Introduction:
Amidst the hustle, bustle and clinking I sit and stare, and stare some more. It pulls me closer and closer but yet I get no nearer; one day I will, I swear. It is just an image now; an image that hypnotises me every time I visit. But soon it will be real.
Where I am is in a Nepalese restaurant in the Royal borough of Kingston-upon-Thames; where I want to be…Sagarmatha, or Everest.
From the first time I entered that restaurant as a poor student I vowed that one day I would take my own photograph of what welcomed me each time I passed the threshold into that hotbed of stinging and soothing curries. Looking at the landscape photograph of this Himalayan wonder nestled amongst other mountainous peaks used to instil in me a sense of freedom and a respect for what the earth was capable of. Of course, this worked in synergy with the consumption of wonderfully spiced curries.
Monty’s was a curry institution in this part of the world, and one that was frequented by me and my university mates, during our studies and long after graduation. It was a Nepalese restaurant but its fare was not limited to the Nepalese region; it catered for everyone. On one hand they produced a phall (incredibly hot British-Indian curry) for the lager induced daredevils; I tried it once and feel myself still fortunate to have an intact palate. At the opposite end of the scale was the diminutive but nonetheless tasty mild chicken korma; an immaculate and delicate blend of spices with juicy and tender chicken breast, finished with delicious almondy creaminess. One of my go-to curries, however, was the lamb rogan josh. There was just something about tender lamb in a curry that took me to another plane. I think it’s the strength of flavour of lamb which competes with, but with parity, the spices. I also loved the acidity and tartness of the yoghurt that was used in this particular rogan josh, and as such this dish has remained a favourite of mine ever since.
Rogan josh is believed to have originated with the Persians. The history can be traced back to the 14th/15th century when India was invaded by Timur Lang, the great conqueror, and as a result Mughals of varying skills, including cooks, began to influence this South Asian land. The Mughals would often retreat to the cooler climate of mountainous Kashmir, and it is here that the dish rogan josh was perfected.
Its name? Well there is no definitive answer. For example, there is the theory that the name of the dish came from the Persian for clarified butter (rogan) and hot (josh), implied by the popular meat stew dish that came from there. Another idea is that the name rogan was a derivative of words such as rouge (red in French) or even the Kashmiri word for red, which is, I am led to believe, rogan.
The dish itself has many variations, a lot of which are family secrets; similar to spice blends. As the Kashmiri Brahmans didn’t eat onion or garlic, their rogan josh was often flavoured with fennel seeds and the lamb seasoned with asafoetida. The Muslim version, however, uses lots of onion and garlic. The redness of the dish can be attributed to Kashmiri chillies; a deep red-coloured chilli with a milder spice to the usual Indian red chillies. The colour is also attributed to the addition of the indigenous Kashmiri plant, mawal (cockscomb flower).
So, now I present you with another version of this classic. The lamb is marinated in yoghurt and asafoetida. The yoghurt helps tenderise the meat whist the asafoetida adds flavour. Harold McGee refers to asafoetida as:
one of the strangest and strongest of all spices
of which I wholly agree. We also have garlic and onions, and bags of wonderful Indian spice, including Kashmiri chilli.
