Beef Ularthiyathu

Tadka: blooming spices in fat 22 recipes

• The fat is at tempering heat before anything goes in, around 180C (350F): one test seed dropped in surfaces and cracks within two or three seconds. A seed that sinks and sits quiet means the fat is cold and everything will steep rather than bloom; fat already hazing and thinning has gone past 200C (390F), and the first thing in will be black before the last thing is in.
• Ask what went in and in what order, then read it back off the pan: the hardest seeds lead, with ten to twenty seconds before the next addition, and the softest seeds, any leaf and any powdered aromatic go last with only seconds left. Everything tipped in on one drop is a fail even when the pan smells right, because the most delicate thing in it cannot survive the time the hardest one needs.
• The pan gave a hard scatter of popping that rose, peaked and thinned before it left the heat. A pan that stayed silent never reached popping heat and the seeds are still hard and raw against the teeth; seeds still cracking loudly as it is poured finished blooming in the dish instead of in the fat, where nothing was watching them.
• Cumin is exactly one shade darker than it went in and no more, a warm even brown that smells nutty and sweet; anything near coffee colour, or smelling of scorch, has already carried bitterness into the fat. Fenugreek is pale gold, checked under the light with nothing copper or brown among it, and this is the mark to judge first: past gold it turns the whole pot bitter, and no salt, sugar or souring will pull it back.
• The leaf is blistered and gone translucent, still green at the edge and crisp rather than black or limp, and it cracked sharply when it met the fat. It reached the dish still at full heat and answered with a violent hiss, and it reads on the surface afterwards as bright separate fat with whole spices suspended through it, not a dull dark sediment settled on the bottom.

Where it goes wrong The fat was pushed past hazing before anything went in, or every spice was tipped in together, so the hardest and the most delicate cooked on one clock: in the seconds the hardest seeds need to pop, fenugreek goes from gold to brown and the leaf goes black. Nothing can be corrected after that. The tempering pours in dark and smells scorched over the top of the dish, the specks read black rather than brown when the surface is turned to the light, and a flat acrid bitterness arrives at the back of the palate after the swallow and stays there through the next mouthful.

Keeping the cooking liquid 60 recipes

• It was actually kept: the liquid went into a container rather than down the drain, and the volume saved is enough to be worth using.
• It is clean: strained of solids and grit, and not clouded with the debris of whatever broke up in it.
• It tastes of what it cooked and tastes concentrated rather than washed out, and it is not so salty or so bitter that the only honest use is the bin.
• It was cooled quickly and stored cold, not left standing warm on the stove to be dealt with later.
• Used, it does the job the dish gives it (carrying flavour into a sauce, loosening the dish, or setting when chilled) rather than merely adding water back.

Where it goes wrong The pot was left to cool slowly on the stove and only strained the next day, so it soured overnight: what should have been the best ingredient in the dish goes in the bin, and the recipe gets water instead.