
by Aashim Tyagi
The first time I ever ate vindaloo was when I was sixteen and visiting some relatives in Goa. We went to a small cafe, whose name I forget, in one of the back roads of Panjim and there we shared a delicious meal of stuffed fried mackerel and chicken vindaloo. As soon as I took my first bite, I knew this was going to be a beautiful life-long affair. The sharp tang offset by the sweetness of the sauce along with the latent heat of the chillies sucker-punched me into submission. What I didn't know then was that it would take me a full decade to be able to cook it at home.
I walked away from the café that afternoon unaware that even though chicken vindaloo is an absolute acceptable substitution, the best vindaloo is made with pork. The way the marinade seeps into the meat, making every last bit juicy and tasty is something else. The other thing I was blissfully unaware of that afternoon was just how difficult it would be to get hold of a decent plate of vindaloo outside of Goa.
It was after a couple of these disastrous vindaloo, far away from Goa, that I decided to take matters in my own hands and pored over every recipe and food history resource I could get my hands on to figure out a way to make vindaloo. In the process I came to know that the origins of the Goan vindaloo lay in the Portuguese dish of Vinha d' Alhos, which is a dish of pork cooked in vinegar and garlic. The Portuguese brought the pork pickling away in barrels of wine and garlic with them when they landed on the Western coast of India and the mingling of Indian spices with the original Vinha d' Alhos gave birth to the Goan vindaloo. Contrary to its reputation of being a fiery hot dish, vindaloo has a more of a sharp tart approach, with the heat forming an underlying layer. Traditionally rind of the kokum fruit or tamarind was used as a souring agent along with the vinegar.
And of course, the most important ingredient is the vinegar. Since it plays such an integral part in their cuisine, Goans revere their vinegar. Vinegar in Goa is made out of palm or coconut toddy and brewed in earthen pots. Everyone swears his or her allegiance to only that particular type of locally made vinegar! Does it really make a difference if one were to use palm, coconut or synthetic vinegar?
Yes it does.
In case you aren't able to acquire the Goan vinegars, a good quality apple cider or malt vinegar to be a worthy substitute.
So it was at the age of 26, with the luck of having a Goan as a neighbor in Mumbai that I was able to really figure out the vindaloo. From potato-laden mush in restaurants to my own failed experiments in the kitchen, every part of the process was enlightening. Oh, I almost forgot to mention additional two ingredients that are essential for a perfect vindaloo, a lazy Sunday afternoon and a chilled beer.
Ingredients:
1 Kg Pork cut into 1-1.5” chunks
2 Medium Red Onions - Finely Chopped
2 table spoon of Vegetable Oil
Salt - To taste
2 Cups of Water
Marinade:
15 Dried Kashmiri Chillies
8 Garlic pods
A thumb of Ginger
A thumb of fresh turmeric or 1 teaspoon of tumeric powder
1 tablespoon of cumin
1 tablespoon of mustard seeds
1 piece of cinnamon
1/2 tablespoon of black pepper
4 cloves
Half a cup of coconut or palm toddy vinegar, malt vinegar or apple cider.
Preparation:
Grind the dry spices (dried red chillies, cumin, cinnamon, black pepper, mustard and cloves) into a powder.
Grind the garlic, ginger and fresh turmeric (if using dry turmeric powder, add it later)
Mix the powdered spice and ginger, garlic and turmeric mix with the pork and the vinegar. Marinade it covered, preferably overnight or at least for four hours in the fridge.
Heat the oil in a big pot. Add the finely chopped onions and fry them till they change color to a golden brown.
Add the marinated pork into the pot and fry for five minutes on medium heat along with the onions.
After pork and onions are combined add the water and the salt and mix well. Bring it to a boil and turn the heat on low and let it simmer covered till the meat is tender. Serve with plain white boiled rice and a chilled beer.
Aashim Tyagi quit his day job at the age of 28, squashing all his chances of an arranged marriage and gifting his parents a permanent frown. He spends his days reading, taking photographs, cooking, traveling and doing odd jobs.
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