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Curry Leaves
By Eric Vellend
When it comes to cooking anything other than Mediterranean food, I have
serious commitment issues. There have been a couple of one-night stands with
China and a spicy fling with Thailand, but the relentless chopping, slicing and
dicing of these labour intensive cuisines have always sent me running back into
the arms of my olive-skinned mistress.
Lately, I’ve been able to settle down with the vegetarian cooking of the Indian
subcontinent. It’s healthy, exploding with flavour and a nice antidote the
occupational gluttony of a food writer. My spice cabinet is now bursting with
exotica and my crisper is crammed with ginger, cilantro, and the new herb on the
block, curry leaves.
Curry leaves come from a tree that is native to the sub-tropical forests of
Asia. And, no, they don’t taste like curry, but impart zesty citrus element with
a hint of bitterness. Looking like small, thin bay leaves, they are sold fresh
in sprays and can be found in the produce section of South Asian supermarkets.
They also come dried, but the consensus among Asian cookbook authors is that
they lose most of their aroma in the drying process and are not worth the
bother. Besides, kept in a plastic bag, fresh curry leaves last for weeks in the
fridge.
Curry leaves are popular in the cooking of South India and Sri Lanka. They are
added whole to hot oil or ghee as a last minute seasoning for dal, and are
wonderful in curries, especially those made with coconut milk. I recently added
minced curry leaves to vadai, falafel-like chickpea fritters, and the
accompanying coconut chutney, both with excellent results
Because of the complex layering of flavours in South Asian cookery, curry leaves
don’t have a strong individual presence. But once you get used to cooking with
these fragrant leaves, there’s no going back.
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