So this recipe has been floating around for a long time, gracing the blogs and the tables of many a foodie. Personally, I was a bit skeptical. I mean, what is the point of making bread if you aren’t going to knead it, fuss over it, watch it rise, punch it around… Making homemade bread is about technique, timing, and experience. Naturally, it comes with some bragging rights. But this bread changes everything. Anyone who can use a wooden spoon can make it. It’s simplicity makes it such that absolutely everyone has the ability to make gorgeous loaves of crusty outered, tender innard-ed bread.

To make the dough, you mix everything in a bowl. That’s it. The initial rise takes two or more hours. But this rise doesn’t need to be babysat, as you let it grow until it collapses in on itself. Then you take the resulting gloriously yeasty, puffy pile of dough, stick it in a tub, pop it in the fridge, and saw off a hunk whenever you have a hankering for fresh, warm bread. Nothing to it.

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Death. This according to a recent study published in the New York Times. Hmm… And all this time I thought we all had the same risk of death. Like, 100%.

The thing that irks me about publications like this, is that it totally freaks people out using dumbed-down, dramatic phrases such as “those who ate the most red meat were most likely to die”. I wonder how many people are giving the poor cow the heave-ho based on research that is obviously lacking for controls? For example, are those whose meat consumption is greatest eating meat at the exclusion of things like grains and vegetables? Are they getting the meat in the form of daily slabs of fast-food hamburger meat, with a ginormous side of fries and a litre of coke? Are the people who eat more meat eating more of everything in general? Are the people who eat less meat more health-conscious in general? Don’t forget the “French paradox” where people eat plenty of red meat, usually with a side of butter, and have much lower rates of cardiovascular disease than in North America.
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This was supposed to be a straight-up chocolate chip cookie. But it seems now matter how sincere my intentions are to make such a concoction in its purest form, I get way to excited in the kitchen – with flour on my cheek and nose, wooden spoon securely fisted, surrounded by dirty bowls – and I completely lose the self-control to follow such a classic recipe.

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This sticky, spicy chicken curry is deliciously sweet and packs just the right amount of heat. It is to be scooped up with warm, chewy naan, then licked off of fingers.

Also, it has a very special place in my heart, for two reasons. First, because it constitutes one of the two dinners my boyfriend Adarsh has ever made for me, and second, because I’m not sure it exists outside of his family kitchen. If you ask him, he will call it Chicken 65. But if you then google “Chicken 65″, you will find plenty of recipes bearing that name, but none that are even remotely close to this particular dish… hmm. Considering it stars ketchup as its secret ingredient, I am forced to question its authenticity as a traditional Indian curry. But it is delicious, regardless of whether or not it is regularly eaten off of banana leaves in the kitchens of the East.
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Happy belated Saint Patrick’s day!

To celebrate the Irish-ness, here’s a pic of my gorgeous Irish Setter.

I think he is my lucky charm. There must have been luck involved in helping these cupcakes turn out as yummy as they did. Not only did I fly by the seat of my pants in with the recipe, but I did so at one o’clock in the morning, after a long day of classes, in a goat curry-induced food coma and after several glasses of wine.

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