Curry Chicken NoodleSoup

Reluctantly, I throw off the covers yawning. My feet hit the ground the cold under foot curling my toes registering with my brain and alerting me to what awaits. Blearily I pull on clothes and shoes, grab ear pods and head out. As I open the door a cold wind blasts my face, making me pull my head down in to my jacket collar like a turtle retreating into my shell hiding from the cold. Nonetheless I step forward and keep going. Even the morning chorus of birds is subdued still reluctantly unfurling from their slumber with a burgeoning winter song calling the dawn. Light is peaking through the trees emerging from the horizon as I hit my stride, one foot in front of the other my brain and body awakening….

Suddenly I’m startled.. The alarm on my watch is buzzing, trilling it’s pleasant tune, most probably composed after hours of research into notes that both awaken and don’t startle, the fine balance between alerting the wearer to the hour without setting their heart racing like the abrupt clanging of the old fashioned alarm clock. Yes awaken. The cold bracing morning walk of my dreams was exactly that, a dream. I’ve dreamed, both literally and metaphorically of being a morning person most of my adult life. That rumbling you feel right now as you read this is the earth jittering as those who know me personally read this and are currently throwing their heads back in hysterical laughter reminiscing, of moments with morning me, speechless until a morning caffeine hit and time to ease into the day. I’m just not a morning person, dream though I may of early starts beginning with a brisk stride under my belt followed by zen me sipping my morning brew fondly gazing at the scene through my window as birds flutter about joining me in my morning reverie before I launch into the day proper. Days finishing with an almost smug satisfaction as I reflect on the long list of ticks held in my head representing the day’s achievements. Alas I am not she and at nearly 52 I fear I may never be.

On the weekend, as I scrolled through emails, I happily noticed one of my favourites had arrived titled ‘I Need a Carrot.” Intrigued, I opened it expectantly hoping for a carrot recipe, I’m quite partial to a carrot…but I digress. She, similarly, spoke of mornings and went on to speak of her carrots. Little promises she makes to herself during the week to entice herself to complete otherwise challenging tasks. Promises of reward if you will, to keep putting one front in front of the other. Her and I spoke once in DM’s of mornings. She prompted me to focus on the feeling afterwards rather than the steps between where I lay and that feeling. It’s great advice though searching through my addled and foggy morning brain for that nugget Lindsay had offered me to throw back the covers is often a fruitless hunt, clearly. Like her earlier advice I also love the idea of a carrot, an attempt to fool myself into a prize at the end of completions to tempt me forwards to the finish line. But unlike Lindsay I’m yet to find the discipline to take the steps to win myself offered prizes and therefore the achievement of those goals, like rising early and meeting the day with a brisk walk (read: dreaded exercise) and a whimsical gaze out the window sipping coffee like some dreamy tv commercial.

One thing I do imagine and daydream about when I finally take my walk after brekky and coffee is what I’ll eat for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s my carrot, a delicious dinner that awaits me at the end of the day and the time to bring that together. Weirdly to some, that end of day kitchen time is like a meditation to me. Time where I stop and retreat to my happy place to respond to the day by creating something tasty. On days like the cold winter ones we’re experiencing at the moment I get through the days on the wings of the promise I make to myself to create a bowl of something warming to end my day with. Something laced with warming spice served with plumes of steam rising from it’s surface to lick the cold tip of my nose with it’s aromas and warmth.

I’ve spoken before of my deep abide love of soup both here and here. Like then, it endures as does my love of spice. Soup should be an experience of it’s own, hands warmed by the bowl, spoon plunging into its broth, swirling on the hunt for individual favourite ‘pearls’ of ingredients floating through its wake, and in this case, slurpy noodles coated in all its flavours. As I type this, having made Curry Chicken and Noodle Soup to photograph for you, I’m a little distracted. It’s cold, the scene outside my window is bleak, black clouds shrouding the day in a dusk like filter, but there’s soup in a pot on the stove for dinner. I’ll keep typing, no soup for me until the work is done.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

700 gm chicken maryland or similar pieces with skin and bone still attached.

2 large garlic cloves finely chopped

1 litre chicken stock

20 gm finely grated ginger

1 lemongrass stalk bruised, white part only

1 red chilli sliced, seeds in or out. The spice choice is yours.

1 makrut lime leaf crinkled with a squeeze in your hand

1 brown onion peeled and sliced

3 cardamon pods bruised with the back of a knife to crack the pod

1 tsp ground turmeric

3 tsp curry powder, the run of the mill kind

1 large carrot peeled and sliced in thickish slices, say nearly 1cm thick

¾ cup of sliced green beans

2 cups of water

200-300 pkt fresh egg noodles

Fresh herbs to serve such as basil, parsley, mint and dare I say….coriander (just not in my bowl)

Coconut cream to serve.

Method:

Preheat oven to 220c, stay with me here I know this sounds odd. In a medium baking dish drizzle olive then place chicken pieces in the dish, drizzle more olive oil over the top and sprinkle flakes over the chicken. Place in the hot oven and bake 25 minutes or until the skin and edges are just starting to brown and blister but the meat is not completely cooked through.

While the chicken is starting in the oven. Prepare the onion and spices. In a large heavy pot, over medium heat, warm a good glug of olive. Reduce the heat to low and add the onion cooking gently for five minutes. Add the garlic, ginger, chilli and lemongrass and cook briefly until fragrant. Add the curry powder and cardamon pods and again cook for a minute to draw out the fragrance. Remove the chicken from the oven and add to the pot including any oil and drippings and the lime leaf. Stir to combine and coat the chicken in the spiced juices, pour over the stock and bring to the boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer 30-40 minutes or until the chicken comes away from the easily but not falling off.

Remove the chicken from the pot. Tip the vegies into the broth and increase heat slightly, cook ten minutes while preparing meat. With two forks gently pull the meat from the bones. Discard the skin but return the bones to the pot to eke out every last morsel of flavour while you finish the soup. Shred the meat before returning to the soup and if needed chop to bite size pieces of necessary. Return meat to pot and cook a further 5 minutes.

When you’re nearly ready to serve, cook noodles following instructions on the packet. Distribute noodles evenly amongst four bowls. Gently ladle soup over the noodles. Like you would add cream to pumpkin or tomato soup, swirl a spoonful of coconut milk over the soup and top with fresh fragrant herbs.

Lamb and Carrot Tandoori Masala

Today, Wednesday, dawned cloudy, foggy and damp from overnight rain. Humidity hung gently in the air, not too overwhelmingly so but enough to signal sunshine behind the foggy shroud. A weather metaphor for the morning ahead couldn’t have been more apt. Birds chorused outside and a hum buzzed throughout the house. Today was the day, the culmination of years of hard work, planning and anticipation. Today was the day our eldest son, his girlfriend and friends set off, cars loaded to the gills, on their round Australia adventure on a quest chasing sunshine, sea spray and the red dirt of the outback.

They’ve planned this journey since the start of their apprenticeships. Days starting before dawn on cold mornings trudging through mud or when morning humidity warned of a hot work day ahead toiling on building sites. Days when muscles ached from hard physical labour. Days of working through the uncertain months of a pandemic and lockdowns while the rest of world sheltered in fear in their homes when enjoying the rewards of the daily grind were impossible. All the days of one foot in front of the other motivated by a dream, finally culminating in today.

We started the day enjoying breakfast together, a meal my husband called my last ‘fix’ of mothering. Bacon and eggs with oozy yolks, thick crusty slices of toasted sourdough and hot coffee. A last few moments to relax together, chat and hear about all the plans one last time. I peppered him with questions desperately trying to commit their initial itinerary to memory, imagining their toes wiggling in the sand of rugged isolated beaches, glowing young faces warmed by sunshine. In my mind’s eye I could see them watching sunsets over the Indian Ocean their hearts happy and full. I couldn’t stop looking at him soaking him in for these last hours. I was taken back a few months ago to when his brother set off on a similar adventure following the Pacific Ocean and was reminded how fleeting our time is, nurturing them and preparing them for the world.

Things went quickly from there as he rushed inside and out packing last necessities and triple checking everything and grabbing a few last supplies from the fridge including some meals I’d cooked for him, vacuum packed for safe keeping. Ensconced in his home on wheels for the next while he set off from home for the last time for who knows how long, us following along for last goodbyes at the home of his girlfriend. Greeted by birdsong coming from high in the eucalyptus canopy above, our Boy, his girl and her family gathered in the driveway in high anticipation as the minutes ticked down to departure. All chatting amicably, parents avoiding the inevitable, the travellers signalled the time for goodbyes. Many tears many many hugs and many orders to drive safely, travel well, look after each other….all the wishes and all the anxieties bubbling forth while tears were wiped and extra hugs snatched…. and off they roared, up the hill in the yonder to see visit all the dots along the map of their imaginings and follow the sun and their hearts and dreams.

I’m immeasurably proud tonight a little melancholy, but proud. Proud of the strong, resilient, caring and capable men our boys have become. Though they feel far away tonight they’re in my heart. Tonight, we’ll sit down to a dinner of the other half of one of the meals in those vacuum packs. A Lamb and Carrot Tandoor Masala Curry split in two, shared by us and them apart but together and in my heart I’ll feel just a little closer, the goodbye a little easier.

Ingredients:

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil

1 kg lamb cubed in large chunks. I use shoulder or boneless shanks

2 onions chopped into rough chunks or sliced

3 garlic cloves minced

2 Tb minced ginger

2 large carrots peeled and chopped into large chunks

3 Tb Tandoori Masala spice mix **

1 tsp sweet paprika

½ tsp allspice

½ tsp ground Szechuan pepper or ¼ tsp black pepper ground

2 Tb tamarind paste/pulp

3 cardamon pods bruised

1 400g can crushed tomatoes

2 C beef stock

Method:

 Preheat oven to 180c.

In a large ovenproof pot (that has a well-fitting lid) heat the oil over a med-high heat. Season lamb with salt flakes and brown in the warmed pot until just sealed. No need to do this in batches or to brown too much. Remove with a slotted spoon or tongs, leaving the moisture in the pot. You can add a little more oil here if needed. Reduce heat to low and add the onion and carrot cook for 5-10 minutes until onion is translucent. Increase heat to medium and add garlic and ginger and saute briefly until fragrant. Sprinkle in all the spices and cardamon pods and cook off for 1-2 minutes until aromatic. Pour in tomatoes and stock and stir until everything is well combined and bring to the boil. When gently  bubbling return meat to the mixture and add tamarind and stir again. Cover with the lid and pop in the oven for two hours stirring half way through. The meat should be falling apart and the sauce lovely and thick.

Notes:

 **I use Gewerzhaus Tandoori Masala mix however I, more often than not, run out and have  my own version. As follows

 2 Tbs ground coriander

1 ½ Tb ground cumin

1 tsp each:

ground ginger     

ground garlic

ground cloves

ground fenugreek

grated nutmeg

cinnamon

black pepper

cardamon

ground fennel

cayenne pepper

turmeric

½ tsp ground dried chilli powder

Combine all in a jar, shake until well combined and store sealed with a secure lid in a cool dry place.

 This is a zingy and tangy curry. If your palette is a little sensitive to spice or you’re cooking for kids you might like to make it with half the masala spice mix the first time to get a feel for the flavour. You can also serve it with cooling yoghurt as a condiment.