Beyond Burgers and Bratwurst

I attribute my interest for the culinary arts to my family’s, especially my parent’s, enthusiasm for cooking. When we were growing up, my sisters and I were fortunate and had warm meals at night, freshly cooked from scratch and very nutritious. We of course had our favorites (such as anything with Spätzle) and our personal dislikes (I always stressed on alfredo nights, which I don’t stress about anymore). But we always found something that we liked, and we often spent a long time at the table talking together after we had finished eating.

When we went out to dinner, which wasn’t very often, it was almost always a special occasion. Just as our family tended to get in a rut cooking (such as the sautéed rosemary potato and chicken rut), we also got into restaurant ruts. For a while our favorite was Chiense: Tong King Gardens. The owners knew us well, and I remember when my Opa and Oma were visiting from Germany and we went out for a tasty meal. At the end we got the check, and we all grabbed the fortune cookies. We cracked them open and read our fortunes to each other. Then someone said “And Gerold? What’s your fortune?” Opa looked up, slowly stopping his chewing a large mouthful of cookie. “Mein was?” (“My what?”) We never found out what it had been.

It wasn’t until my sisters and I had all left the house that I was astonished when I called home and realized my parents had developed a routine foreign to me. (Almost) every Tuesday night my mother would call the Thai restaurant from work before she went home and order a red curry chicken and my dad would pick it up on his way home. I didn’t understand why they would eat out so regularly until I was introduced to this red curry chicken myself. I had previously been a chicken curry virgin, at least the chicken curry from this restaurant. So, one day when I was visiting home, my mom and I were out later than usual and we decided to get an order. We took it and the steaming rice home – and gobbled up the entire dish. It was delicious.

Of course, I can’t be satisfied to let restaurants have all the fun. So one afternoon I took it upon myself and searched my parent’s cookbook shelf – this is always dangerous, as the books are precariously perched on a shelf that’s an inch too thin and they inevitably all tumble down when you try to take only one. I found a curry cookbook (despite the shelf’s instability it is incredibly well-stocked) and set out with David to create our own red curry chicken. We decided not to risk an already-made curry paste, so we made our own Thai-style red curry paste. The ingredients were a bit hard to get, involving shopping at four stores including the natural food store, but it was worth it. The taste was fantastic. And the paste recipe made enough to enjoy many more experimentations with red curry.
Here in my apartment in Radeberg it is harder to recreate the masterpiece David and I came up with. Not only is it difficult to find the ingredients, but I also have to work from memory, as I don’t have my parent’s cookbooks at hand. Instead, to make the dish, I turn on my (non-existent) photographic memory, and settle on a curry powder I bought at the grocery store. Its taste is nothing compared to a home-made paste, but nevertheless, it still tastes alright. The dish is worth it, as it doesn’t take very long to make and has been a hit with multiple guests. The ingredients can vary, based off of your own personal preferences, and what is available around you.

“Thai” Red Curry Chicken

¼ cup chopped yellow onions
ca 1 Tbsp red curry powder (this depends on strength and type of curry and requires experimentation)
2 chopped green onions
1 8-oz can coconut milk
1 can bamboo shoots
1 sliced red bell pepper
salt and pepper (to taste)
basil leaves (to taste)

Sauté the yellow onions with the curry powder on med-high heat to release flavors, until the onions are clear. Lower heat to med-low and add the green onions and sauté another two minutes, then add the coconut milk and bamboo shoots. Bring sauce up to a simmer, then add bell pepper, salt, and pepper. Sauté another 2-5 minutes, until desired cooked-yet-still-crunchy texture of peppers is reached. Serve sauce on top of basmati rice, topped with ripped basil leaves*.
*Somewhere along the lines I learned that ripping basil leaves keeps the flavor in the leaves, whereas in chopping them you leave most of it on the cutting board. I can’t back this up, but I was told by David’s dad recently that you shouldn’t cook it, as it then loses all its flavor. Lesson learned: make sure it’s fresh, and don’t handle it too much!