Ambassador of ‘The Punjab’ — Chicken Tikka Masala.
Blog: chef@large
By Vikrant Bhasin
WASHINGTON, DC: As popular wisdom states that the national bird of “The Punjab” is tandoori chicken, it would be appropriate and without much doubt that the ambassador of this land of five rivers is Chicken Tikka Masala.
In all my 24 years of munching my life away in India, I had not heard of Chicken Tikka Masala. It took an F-1 Visa to a culinary school and a ticket on a 747 jumbo jet, my brother’s intuition, and one greasy Indian restaurant (amongst other side events) to make me aware of this bird’s existence.
The curry section of the Palak-Paneer-stained, dog-eared menu stated “Chicken Tikka Masala: Tandoori-oven grilled chicken in tomato cream sauce.” As I had not heard of, let alone tasted this dish, I was all excited to try it out. “It’s like butter chicken,” said my brother and that’s all I needed to hear. I love butter chicken. I had to give it a shot. New to the land of the brave and home of the free, how was I to know any better?
The waiter gave me a choice of Mild, Medium or Hot. I suppose I told him, “Make it the way it’s made,” as that’s exactly what I tell desi restaurant waiters today when they ask me this ridiculous question.
While we were in the midst of attacking Samosa-Chaat, the waiter arrived with the entrée. At first sight, I figured that this orangey-cremish concoction with chunks of red chicken floating in was no butter chicken or its kin. The first bite confirmed my suspicion. It was devoid of flavor in the Indian scene of the word. It kind of tasted like Indian but every instinct screamed that it was not and it was sweet. A sweetish chicken dish, lord have mercy. Later, upon research did I realize that indeed, this fowl was first sighted in the UK and now is certainly being massacred in the US. Contained in the sauce were hints of the required requisites; kasoori methi or dried fenugreek leaves, a whiff of ginger and garlic, however it was the tomato that ruined it. The cooks were using tomato paste instead of fresh tomatoes, a must in Butter Chicken.
Many years later when I was working at the Embarcadero farmers market in San Francisco did I learn the beauty of seasonal tomatoes in America. New England is a far cry from Sunny California especially when it comes to seasonal farm-fresh vegetables. Adding tomato paste by itself had a subduing effect. A slow-simmered, tomato puree with ginger and garlic, aromatic spices such as cardamom, cinnamon and cloves, a zing of red cayenne, finished with a bouquet-garni of fresh coriander, mint and bay leaves, not to forget the essential kasoori methi leaves in addition to tomato paste would have fortified the flavors and brought a complexity to the final product.
Apart from the curry or the sauce (or what is known as gravy in India), the chicken itself was not the melt-in-the-mouth, fall-off-the-bone variety that I was so accustomed to in all of my years of hogging in Bombay. It was like plastic, rubber, chewy, bad. In those days, organic or antibiotic-free chicken was unheard of and unfortunately still is in most restaurants, Indian or otherwise. Yet in this case, organic or free-range or air chilled would not have made a dent the tenderness of the chicken. Simply put, it was poorly cooked. It wasn’t prepared lovingly.
As its name suggests, Chicken Tikka Masala is made from Chicken Tikkas that are skewered and roasted in a tandoor. More often than not, these tikkas are prepared, hours if not a couple of days in advance. Storing food safely is another matter altogether. The internal temperature in a tandoor can range from 700F to 900F tandoor, and in the hands of an inexperienced chef it is very easy to overcook these chicken tips and end up with cardboard.
Nevertheless, I recall chowing down my food was gusto. It was my first week in America, I was with my brother, it was snowing, the restaurant was warm, the food was hot, the beer was cold, I was hungry, and I was happy, young and stupid. This Chicken Tikka Masala reminded me of home.
Hands-down, chicken tikka masala is one of the most popular and therefore the most cooked and consumed dish at Indian restaurants in America. Not surprising as there is a very important reason for this phenomenon. This preparation has all the key essential flavors to make it irresistible to humans, its spicy, salty and sweet with a hint of sourness from tomatoes finished with a measure of cream. When cooked by loving hands, this dish is a marvel.
As my friend and fellow cook, Raj once told me, “Sab chalta hai bhai. Amrika mai yeh murgi dorti hai.” Everything works-out bro. In America, this yardbird is a runner.
(Vikrant Bhasin is a hands-on chef, part-time culinary instructor and food consultant. Raised in India on a steady Punjabi diet of aloo parauntha and dahi, mutton biryani and raita, gajjar-ka halwa and jalebi, he realized early on that the very “womb of happiness” was located in a full-belly. Since then he has been a lifelong student of the craft of cooking and the art of eating. Coming to America broadened both, culinary skill in international cuisines well as his waistline. )