Salsa Macha

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.

The overnight rest: letting a dish marry 29 recipes

• Cooled quickly before it went in (spread out, decanted, or stood in cold water) rather than carried to the fridge hot in the pot it was cooked in.
• Protected from the rest of the fridge once cold: covered, or given space where nothing strong is sitting beside it. A rest this long is long enough to take on whatever it shares the shelf with, and some dishes want the open air.
• Given the whole time. This is the one technique whose entire content is waiting, and cutting it short leaves the dish exactly as it was when it went in.
• Brought back deliberately: reheated gently, or brought up to the temperature it is meant to be eaten at, rather than served straight out of the cold because it is late.
• Tasted and corrected AFTER the rest. Seasoning and brightness both flatten in the cold, so the dish is finished at the end of the wait rather than at the start of it.

Where it goes wrong It went into the fridge hot and covered. It held its own heat for hours in the range where food spoils, and the lid sweated and dripped back into it all night: what comes out is duller and wetter than what went in, which is the exact opposite of the point.