The Thames Delta Blues

Less is more in chickpea world

I've just eaten a really tasty chickpea curry. Two things were critical to the success, I think. It was left standing overnight before I ate it, which probably helped no end, letting the flavours develop. I didn't get tempted into over complicating things. There was just half an onion (the other half went into BLISS' ariabata – more on that later), I didn't skimp on the fresh chilli or garlic, or ginger, but then used just one small measure each of turmeric, garam masala, and mixed cumin and coriander powders. Moistened with a little bit of vegetable stock. Not too moist. Quite a stiff consistency. Quite dry.

It came out really well, the best I've managed at home.

I ate it with a turkey chipotle and lime job, that was searingly hot. “A little jar of ASDA own brand chilli and lime paste”, I thought, “how hot is that going to be?” [Answer, with hindsight – pretty damn hot]. So I put in an additional nine green chillies. To give it a bit more pep, to up the oomph, to deepen the heat, a tad.

It almost burnt my brains out.

My eyes were watering, my nose was running, and when I went outside, the neighbour's rooftop photovoltaic array had the national grid meters spinning and everything lit up like a very bright thing.

So I ate the leftover nuclear chipotle and turkey supernova with the chickpeas (including just the three green chillies) on he side to cool it down.

Hence BLISS' over hot ariabata. I put in just a dash of cayenne and a smidge of paprika, and I did taste it, just the sauce, without the pasta or any grated cheese, and thought it had a pleasant, low-level heat to it.

I guess asking me to test whether her dinner is too hot is like asking a heroin addict whether that cup of espresso it doing much for him. It's impossible to tell. There's something addictive about chillies, and when there's a nice big bag of those hot green ones in the fridge, I can't imagine cooking anything without using some of them. Why would you?

They must constitute part of one of the seven a day we're supposed to eat now. In conjunction with fresh ginger, garlic and coriander leaves, that little lot, working together, must amount to one of the seven, surly?

Oil City Confidential

A documentary of stars: Wilko Johnson (a beautifully insane man, a genius), Lee Brilleaux, and his widow, The Big Figure, John B Sparkes. Canvey Island, Essex's Dungeness, with oil instead of nuclear power. The Feelgoods playing live. I was desperate to see them in the 70's, but it never worked out, somehow. Jake Riviera, who's Stiff Records marketed that “Kill Time / Murder Success” wall-clock. There's the Shepherds Bush Empire, the other small London music pubs where they regularly played. Brilleaux's beautiful mum, her shaky old lady voice, saying they went to see the Feelgoods play a big gig, and “although we didn't really understand it, we couldn't sleep all night afterwards, we were so excited”. They must've been in their forties or fifties.

Julian Temple produced the film. It moves along almost too quickly. It flies past, it's over too soon.

Wilko Johnson talking about playing 45's at 33 rpm, working out how to play simultaneous rhythm and lead on the same guitar...shivers down the spine.

Things unravel at the end, personalities that work too close, too hard, for long enough, will be at risk of falling out.

Among the closing footage is the remaining Feelgoods playing the Lee Brilleaux memorial gig, and loving it.