I’vebeen luck y enough to visit, live and work in some of the regions of Britain where food from the Indian diaspora is at the heart of the culinary community. I come from Manchester, live in London, have worked in Birmingham, spent time in Glasgow, Cardiff, Leicester, Bradford, Sw indon and Kent, and I’ve eaten amazing curries in each place. All of them feature in this fascinating exploration and celebration of the food that migrants from the Indian sub-continent have brought to the UK: Bangladeshi in Manchester; Parsi, Sri Lankan and African-Indian in London; Punjabi in the Black Countr y; Gujarati in Leicester – the list goes on. Ever y dish is connected by the past. As Sarah says, “Migration, the movement of people and food cultures, has created some of the best and most recognisable dishes in the world.”
Desi Kitchen (Desi is a word used to describe the people, cultures, and products of the Indian sub-continent) is a culinary roadmap of the Indian culture in Britain today – “for the lovers of masala ba ked beans, tandoori roast dinners, bacon naan rolls and the like.” Each chapter shines a spotlight on a region and gives voice to first-, second- and third-generation diaspora. Sarah says, “We are united by a lang uage of food, it brea ks down the barriers: we are here, and this is what we contribute.”
Sara h’s grandparents came to the Black Country in the West Midlands in the early sixties from Jalandhar in the state of Punjab, India, when her dad was 12 years old. He later married Sara h’s mum and they had five children, who were raised by their grandparents as their mum and dad both worked. Sarah, the fourth child, learned to cook by watching her grandpa rents: yogurt being cultured near the fireplace, traditions like chips & grav y ever y Friday, ‘desi’ fruit cr umbles and bread & butter pudding.
“Granddad even built a tandoor in the garden,” she says. Space doesn’t allow me to list the dozens of wonderful recipes, each with its own stor y of origin and adaptation, but for this month’s cha llenge, I’ve chosen one that means something to me and I’d almost forgotten exists: chippy sca llops. If you’re from the north, you’ll know that these aren’t sea food, but battered and deep-fried, thick ly-sliced potatoes. We had them ever y Friday night when I was a kid. Crispy, but bla nd. W hen I moved to Birmingham, I discovered these beauties with a Punjabi makeover, spiked with chillies, methi and garam masala. Sw itch the potato for cauliflower or leftover meat, if you like. As Sarah says, they ’re tota lly addictive.