When I arrived at Andrew’s for our weekly True Blood supper, he answered the door with sweat on his brow and tears brewing in his eyes. I was a little concerned for his health, but he told me it was just all the spices from dinner getting to him. I didn’t want Andrew injuring himself just for Sunday supper, but the end result was worth the blood, sweat, and tears he put into it. Well, I’m hoping it was just sweat and tears, no blood. I parked myself on the couch to avoid my own teary eyes while Andrew worked on a chicken curry from scratch that rivals anything I’ve eaten in the Indian-heavy neighborhood of Murray Hill.
The chicken was prepared with cumin, coriander, mustard seed, and lots of other spices and served with onions, peaches, and a coconut milk sauce. For a bit of pizazz, Andrew added fresh squash blossoms as he plated. The whole meal was served with sticky rice that subdued the spiciness of the chicken. I have to say, Andrew hit the perfect degree of spiciness. If my nose isn’t running, I don’t think the chef has done his job, but I also can’t stand when the spice overtakes the flavors of the ingredients. This struck the perfect balance. It tasted like a restaurant dish, and I’m thinking Andrew may have been Indian in a previous life. The salad I contributed to the meal was definitely inferior.
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