Which versions of this much-loved and widely adapted rich vegetarian curry will be distilled into the perfect take?
This luxuriantly rich, vegetarian curry - a cousin of butter chicken, which is thought to have been created in the postwar kitchens of Delhi's Moti Mahal, though by whom is the subject of hot dispute - is, according to chef Vivek Singh, "the most famous and widely interpreted dish in India". His fellow chef Sanjeev Kapoor describes it as "one of the bestselling dishes in restaurants" there, but here in the UK, though it's no doubt widely enjoyed, it seems to fly somewhat under the radar on menus, where even the chicken original plays second fiddle to our beloved chicken tikka masala.
If you haven't yet fallen for the crowdpleasing charms of fresh cheese in a mild tomato sauce, consider this a strong suggestion to give it a whirl. Paneer makhni (makhni being the Hindi word for butter, hence also dal makhni), tastes incredibly fancy, but it's relatively simple and quick to make. Just add bread and a vegetable side to turn it into a full feast.
For me, this unsalted, cottage-style cheese occupies much the same culinary niche as pressed tofu, being a texturally satisfying source of protein with a blandly creamy flavour that flatters, rather than competes with whatever sauce or seasoning it's paired with. You can make your own at home with milk and lemon juice (Maunika Gowardhan has a good guide), but it's also usually available to buy at south Asian specialists and in larger supermarkets.
Mowgli's Nisha Katona's recipe is the only one I try that marinates the cheese before use. Her tandoori masala (spice blend) gives it an appetising red colour, but the firm commercial paneer I'm working with is too dense to absorb much in the way of flavour, so perhaps Katona's approach would work better with a crumblier, homemade version.
Two recipes pre-cook the cheese before adding it to the gravy. Meera Sodha coats it in garlic, ginger, chilli powder, lemon juice, salt, turmeric and yoghurt, in much the same way as one might if making this with chicken, then bakes it for 25 minutes, while chef and restaurateur Kaushy Patel in her book Prashad, deep-fries the cheese before use.
Singh and Kapoor both add the cheese at the end of the cooking, which is the approach I've also adopted, not because it's less work (though, of course, it has that incidental benefit), but because it maintains the contrast between the squidgy, blank canvas of the cheese and the richness of the sauce. (That said, if you're cooking for those, particularly meat-eaters, who might struggle with the idea of a protein without much by way of flavour, I'd recommend Sodha's approach, which gives the cubes a crunchy coating of baked-on spice.)
Katona, Patel and Singh (who credits the recipe in his book Curry to the contract banquet cooks from Orissa who cooked at his sister's wedding) all start their sauces with onion as well as ginger and garlic, while Sodha sticks to ginger and garlic, and Kapoor to garlic alone. The dairy in paneer makhni gives it a sweetness that I've chosen to emphasise with well-softened onion (Patel goes as far as to caramelise it) and root ginger. For much the same reason, the heat in mine comes from red chilli powder instead of Patel's fresher, more herbaceous fresh green peppers.
None of the recipes I try contains a long list of spices; turmeric, chilli, cardamom (Singh uses black and green) and garam masala are all common, with Katona, Singh and Patel adding extra cumin. Patel and Katona also pop in coriander, while Kapoor includes mace and Singh a bay leaf. The zestiness of green cardamom is a good pairing with the richness of dairy, while the sweet spices in garam masala make sense with the flavour profile of the dish as a whole.
Dried fenugreek leaves, or methi, which are often stirred in later, also feel like a must; though I can't quite describe their bitter, slightly woody, oddly fruity flavour, I clearly remember it being the thing that made the difference when I was exploring chicken tikka masala over a decade ago, and it's come up trumps again here. (NB: this has reminded me of the fascinating fact that fenugreek seeds are used to flavour artificial maple syrup substitutes.)
Tomato-wise, a smooth, velvety sauce feels the most luxuriant. If you're using chopped tomatoes, be they fresh or tinned, you might wish to deploy a hand blender to help with this, as Katona does, or push them through a sieve, as Kapoor does with his fresh ones,but finely chopped tomatoes or even passata will save you that job.
Unless you live somewhere with great, full-flavoured fresh tomatoes, I wouldn't recommend using them here though,because substandard fruit will give your sauce a thin,almost salsa-like tanginess.Indeed,I also like to add a spoonful of tomato puree,a tip picked up from Katona to supercharge the depth of flavour.This may mean you don't want to add any sweetness,but if you do,you'll be in good company;Sodha and Kapoor suggest honey,and Singh and Katona sugar.
Or, at least,the richness:while almost every recipe I try adds butter(the clue's in the name),the version in Katona's book Meat-Free Mowgli also includes Greek yoghurt.Kapoor uses double cream;Singh single cream,milk powder and boiled cashew paste(which also puts in an appearance in Chetna Makan's recipe),while Zainab Shah advises stirring in cashew butter in the New York Times).Sodha,mind you,leaves out butter entirely in favour of double cream.
I see her logic:chucking in butter in the quantity that Kapoor recommends in How to Cook Indian—a jaw-dropping four tablespoons per person—makes for a sickly result.(Even I,a person who loves the stuff so much I made an entire radio programme about it,finding that a little excessive).Double cream gives some of the same mouthfeel,but with just over half the fat.There’s no satisfactory substitute for the flavour of butter,however,so I’ve suggested including a couple of judicious spoonfuls as well.
I’ve left Singh and Makan’s pleasingly sweet cashews out of my recipe for simplicity’s sake,but their popularity with my testers does make the case that this admittedly unlikely candidate for veganisation might not be as difficult as it sounds.Substitute firm tofu for the paneer;boiled cashew paste loosened with water for the cream;plant-based butter or your favourite oil for that lingering fullness of flavour.If you try it out,do let me know how you get on.
Though perhaps not canonical,we're all big fans of the pops of sweetness provided by Katona's addition of peas,but you may instead prefer to finish the dish with a sprinkle of chopped coriander,as Singh and Shah recommend.I also must commend Sodha’s recipe from her book Dinner to you simply because it’s made entirely in one baking dish,rather than on the hob,and is consequently extremely hands-off and also ridiculously delicious.If you want to make an easy recipe even easier,this is the one for you.
Note: you could make this to the point when you blitz the sauce up to a day or so in advance,and reheat gently.I like this with flatbreads - naan or roti for preference - and saag or a khachumber salad.
Put the oil in a frying pan on a medium heat, then add the onion, cardamom pods and a pinch of salt, and fry, stirring regularly, until the onion is very soft and beginning to turn golden brown.
Stir in the garlic and ginger, then fry for another couple of minutes, until the garlic begins to smell cooked. Stir in the chilli powder, garam masala and a splash of water, and fry for another minute or so.
Stir in the tomato puree, then tip in the tomatoes and bring to a simmer. Leave to bubble away for eight to 10 minutes, until slightly reduced, then take off the heat and lift out and discard the cardamom pods.
For a really silky end result, blitz the sauce smooth.
Still off the heat, stir in the cream and butter, plus the fenugreek leaves and sugar,if using,then taste and season.
Fold in the paneer and peas,if using,and heat through gently. Finish with a spritz of lemon juice and serve with naan or roti.