Wings of desire

 "What's this terrible music you've got on?" asks Bee as she comes in the door."A seminal '90s album" I tell her, one eyebrow arched."Turn it off."It's about four in the afternoon, and I have returned from collecting the children from school. Noah has asked to put 'Ten' by Pearl Jam on the record player. I am more than happy to oblige, trying to ignore the probable reality that it is only because the vinyl is blue rather than my seven year old son has a keen love for one of Seattle's finest. You take what you can get with the children, I've discovered.We switch to The Beatles at a rather more sedate volume and concentrate ourselves on the task of making buttercream for an afternoon cake. My quest for the children's musical education continues a few days later as I have them folding the laundry while listening to Hendrix. Baby steps, and with hope, a little encouragement to subversiveness in life. As long as they've helped around the house a little...A few days later, on the way to school, I try to instill a little deviation from the routine by walking past the enormous slide in the park. With a little glint in my eye I ask if they want to have a quick go, running the ever so slight risk we may not arrive exactly on the dot of the bell ringing. Maya runs off like a hare out of the trap while Noah's eyes widen in fear. He stands rooted like one of the trees with it's reddening autumn leaves. A rabbit caught in the headlights.I drop them at their classrooms on time and return home with an enormous sense of wellbeing. And then I'm happy for the rest of the day.The chicken wings in this recipe are not the type that the parks and streets of London are paved with, but more of a spicy and exciting snack that sits well with family tacos or as an illicit supper when you're cooking for yourself and fancy some food that is, according to Bee "most definitely not a date night meal." They go really well in the evening with Pearl Jam. Quiet enough to not wake the children obviously. How very rock n' roll.Ingredients8 free-range chicken wingsFor the chicken marinade:A glug of sesame oil2 garlic cloves, grated2cm ginger, gratedA splash of rice vinegarA splash of fish sauce2tsp ground turmericA large pinch of Japanese pepper (or black pepper if you prefer)A splash of soy sauce1tbsp black and white sesame seedsFor the quick kimchi pickle:1 mini cucumberA few radishesA spring onion1 or 2 green chilliesA good splash of rice vinegar1tbsp Gochujang2tsp coconut sugar (or other sugar. It's all the same. I just had some to use up)A pinch of saltMethodMarinate the wings for up to 24 hours (or at least four hours)Grill until cooked through and starting to char, turning occasionally and spooning over the marinade every so often.Thinly slice the pickle vegetables and whisk together the vinegar, gochujang, sugar and salt. Mix the vegetables into this and leave to rest while the chicken cooks.Serve the wings with a sprinkle of sesame seeds, the kimchi pickle and a lot of napkins. This is a terrifically messy and delicious dish.This week:Watched: The final episode of Doctor Foster. Preposterous nonsense. I can't work out if I loved it or hated it. I'm leaning toward the latter. Started Fargo, series threeRead: Finished Christ stopped at Eboli by Carlo Levi; The New Yorker; A feature about Hassidic Jews moving to Canvey Island in the Observer; Started Middlemarch by George Eliot. We shall see how that goes...Listened to: Fleet Foxes latest album. Nice to have on in the background while writing, although I'm sure they would take offence to that... Neil Young, 'Hitchhiker', Soundtrack to '8 1/2'Eat: Pop Brixton, nice tacos, unfriendly bao. Devastated that Kricket has closed there. Lahore Karahi, Tooting. Excellent chicken methi, deep and flavourful dahl, tasty lamb chops and seekh kebabs. And only £25 for two...

Punjab dhal dumpling curry

 I always get excited when I stumble across new ingredients. I'll try anything as long as it's not a joke or a dare. Or fugu. Or a still beating snake heart. Or a Ginster's pasty.The food that really captures my imagination and makes my appetite dance around with anticipation is Indian. The spices, the variety, the flavours, the smells, the occasional cartoon version of me with steam coming out of my ears all get me going.If I go too long without some form of Indian food, my curry levels drop and I need treatment. That just doesn't happen with any other cuisine for me. As much as I love rich, subtle and elegantly robust French food and the beautiful simplicity of Italian food, it's just not the same level of wonder.I made one of my regular, but too infrequent trips to Tooting last week to seek inspiration and hopefully a green chilli pakora or two from Ambala if I timed it right. (They're at their best straight from the fryer, before they've had time to sit around and lose their enthusiasm). I didn't time it right, they didn't open for another hour. Instead, I managed a spicy container of chickpea chaat failing dismally at pretending I was walking through the street-food markets of Mumbai on a cold January London morning.My favourite shop since the much missed Dadu's mysteriously closed down is now V&B, not too far down the traffic-filled road. As I was loading the trolley with things I had no idea about, and vegetables I photographed the names of to Google when I got home, I found a packet of 'Punjabi wadi'. The word wadi looked similar to 'vadi' to me -you'll be impressed at my deduction there- which are one of my favourite snacks, so in they went. (There is a recipe here). These dried lentil dumplings turned out to be a popular Punjabi ingredient, which should come as no surprise to the sharper among you.The packet instructions suggested cooking them in a tomato based sauce and that's exactly what I did. I followed the instructions and even looked up on the internet what they are supposed to look and taste like and what texture they are supposed to be. I got everything right. I'll not be making them again.These are from an extensively vegetarian cuisine, but I'd rather have ande ki sabji, the tomato and egg dish, or chana masala. They are equally quick to make, and you're quite likely to already have the ingredients in the cupboard. If you're vegan though, these may be a winner. The sauce was delicious, the accompaniments and flavours all tasty. I just couldn't get along with the texture. Almost meaty, quite substantial, but a little reminiscent of compacted damp cardboard. Perhaps my mind can be changed if ever I'm in Amristar, but it won't be my life's mission.You can buy these online if you want to try them, but if I've not filled you with excitement and ambition, use the sauce base for an aaloo egg curry. I'd recommend trying the radish pods (mogri) if you can get hold of them, they were simple, tasty and fun. And I bought the sarson ka saag ready-made. It's a dish I love, but can be tricky to get the right leaves.Ingredients for two100g Punjabi wadi1tsp cumin seeds1tsp black mustard seeds1/2 thumb of grated ginger1/2tsp ground turmeric1tsp chilli powder250g chopped tomatoes1tbsp palm sugar/jaggery250ml waterRapeseed oilA few green chilliesSaltFor the mogri masalaA couple of handfuls of mogri1/2tsp mustard seedsSmall pinch asafoetida1 green chilli1tsp ground corianderRapeseed oilSaltFor the sarson ka sagBuy a tinMethodMake the tomato sauce by heating the oil in a heavy saucepan then adding the mustard seeds. When they start to pop, add the remaining spices, cook for thirty seconds on a low heat then add the ginger and wadi then cook for a further minute.Add the tomatoes and water and simmer away for ten minutes. Slice the green chillies and throw in the pan toward the end of cooking.Meanwhile, heat a sauté pan for the mogri and add the oil and mustard seeds. When they start to pop, add the remaining ingredients and toss around the pan for a couple of minutes until they've cooked a little but are still crunchy.Warm the sarson ka saag and serve everything together.