Indian Masterchef

Part 2 of the back-to-back challenges in Goa!

As you can imagine, Jonny and I attracted attention to ourselves whilst we were wandering around wearing a sleeping mask and mouth-bandanna, respectively. Fortunately, because we were also wearing our ‘Year of the Challenge’ T-shirts, this attention was much more positive than we could have hoped to imagine; so much so, that Planet Hollywood’s General Manager approached us at breakfast with a challenge of his own! After some squeezing on my part and realisation from blind Jonny, he did all the talking whilst I chipped in with the occasional nod or thumbs up.

At first, the manager challenged us to an idli eating competition. Now, If you’ve read our previous blog entry, you’ll remember that idli are one of Jonny’s and my least favourite foods. One might wonder how something so bland could be so despised but - you see - that’s just it! At least something awful could be considered ‘an acquired taste’, or a challenge write-up could describe in detail its depth of horrid flavours. A write-up about idli would be as disappointing a read as it is a flavour: rather, it ‘required taste’. So we are doubly pleased that this is not the story we are about to tell. Instead, we were challenged to cook an Indian dish using traditional ingredients. The catch is, we were not going to be told what these ingredients were; we would have to work it out! At first, we thought the manager wished us to complete this challenge whilst we remind blind and mute, but I’m pretty sure that counts as a safety hazard, so he allowed us to complete it the following day instead.

We arrived at the kitchens promptly at 2pm, expecting to be taking into a chrome-plated environment, promising for its utility rather than its beauty. Instead, we were ushered outside, past the pool and onto the resort’s grounds, overlooking palm trees and, in the distance, sand and sea. There, set up like a television shoot, was a ‘Planet Hollywood’ backdrop and mini-kitchen, complete with gas-stove, utensils and bowls full of ingredients.

Some of these, we recognised instantly. There were chopped tomatoes, onions and ginger…but what were those brown powders, and how were we supposed to use the grey sludge?

Whilst we were busy cooing at our set and thanking the manager and chef, a camera crew appeared to shoot our challenge. By this point, Jonny and I had exchanged glances: clearly, these people thought ‘Year of the Challenge’ was something more renowned than it was (notice past tense: we are confident that, by the time you read this, we will have made it big time). We felt like minor celebs, and slightly embarrassed when crew members asked to add our group on Facebook; perhaps they were expecting us to have 148,000 followers rather than the current 148. Nonetheless, we decided that the only way to reach such a large following would be to ride the wave of celebrity, so we put on our best TV-presenter voices and introduced ourselves, our blog and our challenge. Perhaps this was the big break we needed!

We didn’t need many takes for the crew to get the material they required (clearly, we were naturals), and after that it was up to us to begin the challenge. Ever the enthusiast, I had already begun cooking the garlic, but by this point it had already turned an unpromising shade of charcoal, and Chef Uganda looked less than impressed. At that point, Jonny and I agreed that number of ingredients set before us was too vast to use in one dish and, as we had been supplied with two bowls of chicken, we decided to split the ingredients to make separate dishes, which the chef would then judge to decide the winner. Who knows, maybe we were secretly being auditioned for Indian Masterchef!

We decided to split the dishes using the same system as choosing a sport’s team back in primary school: I would pick an ingredient, then Jonny would have a go, etcetera (I speak as if I know what it is like to choose my team, as opposed to being the last one picked). We decided that a few key ingredients (e.g. onions and cooking oil) could be shared. From the start, I felt I was choosing “safer” ingredients than my boy. Garlic was a must, and I was pretty sure that chilli powder and ginger would go well in most Indian dishes. Jonny, on the other hand, opted for some mystery-dust he liked the smell of, as well as some cinnamon sticks and what-he-thought-to-be yoghurt. Feeling confident I had some base ingredients for a winning dish, I also began choosing some mystery items. What is this acrid-smelling powder? Surely it would be the last to be picked. I felt a deep empathy for the useless matter and moved it over to my side. What were these leaves and could you eat them? No matter, they were set to be bung in with everything else.

In fact “bung it in” seemed to be the theme of my cooking, for which I was later admonished. After the garlic and onions had browned, I upturned my bowl of basted chicken into the pan (“basted” may be an incorrect term: I had covered it in turmeric, chilli powder and some salt, but I’ll never get on Masterchef without using some of the lingo), and gave it a stir. It was starting to look a promising shade of orange already! Meanwhile, Jonny had added “yoghurt”, cinnamon and sugar to his concoction, which he had already named “Chicken Shanti”. ‘Shanti’ is an Indian term connoting relaxation and peace, and Jonny believed that his dish’s mild flavours would offer a peaceful oasis of flavour amidst the country’s iconic hot spices; I worried that it was more likely to make people vomit. I named mine ‘Chicken a la Challenge’. I’m aware the French filler adds little to the meaning, but I thought it broke up the alliterative title well. By this point, we had gathered quite an audience, but it was unclear whether they were there to admire our television personalities, or to scoff at our poor cooking skills.

Half way through, Jonny decided to let his concoction simmer whilst he took a break by the pool, hairnet et all. Meanwhile, I was still slaving away, making sure that my ingredients were cooked to perfection. At least one of us retained an air of professionalism, I thought, as I added in the acrid powder (I was later to be told that this was a lesser used ‘masala powder’ and that I’d added it at completely the wrong time). When he returned to check on his chicken, we were both set to serve up, but the chef warned Jonny his needed more time. Remembering that we’d started cooking simultaneously, I heeded this advice too. Little did I know that his chicken was from the leg, thus needing more time than my chicken breast. Perhaps the fact that we hadn’t even noticed this basic detail will give you a hint as to our cooking prowess.

Nonetheless, after a short while longer, we served up. Jonny’s tasted surprisingly good, I thought. Then again, I adore anything that tastes Christmassy and Jonny’s might as well have been a rogue, meaty entry in the Christmas Bake Off Cookbook. Mine was definitely Indian in theme, but lacked the smoothness of a good curry; in fact, it was decidedly gritty. We asked Chef Uganda to give us marks out of ten. He was kind enough to sample our poor efforts and even kinder to declare Jonny’s a 7-8/10 and mine a 8-9/10! Amusingly high scores for dishes that would have made any Indian contestant cry with shame. Ultimately, we learned, I won the competition because Jonny had cooked a dish ‘for western tastes’ and it was supposed to be an Indian cooking challenge… not because mine was particularly delicious. Fair.

Chef Uganda then proceeded to tell us how we could have improved our dishes. I had added masala near the end when, in fact, it needed to go in way before the chicken. On the other hand, Jonny had cooked with fresh cream, not yoghurt, and the result was - to Uganda’s educated palate - sour. Jonny should have used ghee instead. “Ah, but we weren’t given ghee”, we exclaimed righteously. Bemused, Uganda pointed to the bowl of “mayonnaise” which we had both avoided, thinking it neither a good ingredient, nor particularly Indian.

As if setting this challenge and providing fresh ingredients had not been generous enough, Chef Uganda then proceeded to make a real home-style Indian curry for us. Because he was out of chicken, he used mine (clearly testament to my being the rightful winner). Firstly, however, he cooked up his own paste - remembering to add the masala powder first - and let it simmer, in the manner you can see here:

When the dish was complete, it looked and smelled amazing. Alas, he finished it off with a generous handful of coriander (something Jonny may hate even more than idli) and a dollop of ghee (I try to avoid dairy). Nonetheless, we departed with our tasty food to guzzle it by the poolside. We offered to help tidy up but management were insistent we should relax. As we were certain that minor celebs would not push the matter, we conceded, and thoroughly enjoyed our meal.

Thank you, Planet Hollywood, for this wonderful opportunity, and to Chef Uganda for teaching us Indian cooking skills! Also, we think this may count as completing Zoë’s challenge to ‘Mansplain to a local how to cook a dish from their country’, as we narrated our steps to bewildered onlookers. Please let us know if you disagree!