Chicken tikka/ tandoori

Recipe for: Chicken TIKKA/ TANDOORI

Ingredients:

·         Chicken breasts, cut into large cubes (or small pieces of chicken on the bone)

·         1 tsp salt

·         1 juicy lemon, squeezed & pips eliminated

·         5-15 fl oz plain yoghurt (see below)

·         1 clove garlic, peeled

·         ¾ in cube fresh ginger, peeled

·         1 hot red chillie, preferably fresh, or 1-2 dried (or more to taste)

·         1 tsp ground turmeric

·         1 tsp ground cumin

·         1 tsp ground coriander

·         1 tsp yellow or red food colouring

·         Wedges of lime or lemon (to serve)

·         Slices red onion (to serve)

·         Few sprigs fresh coriander (to serve)

Method:

1.       Put the chicken pieces in a large bowl, then sprinkle with salt & lemon juice, mix well & leave to soak whilst doing the next steps.  If the chicken is in joints, slash the flesh to let the juice get right in to the middle;

2.       Put the garlic, ginger & chillie into a blender with a tiny amount of water.  Blitz to a paste.

3.       In another bowl mix the ground turmeric, cumin and coriander.  Add a few tblsp of yoghurt to make a thick paste – it depends how much chicken you have to cover. 

4.       Add the blitzed garlic/ ginger paste;

5.       Add the food colouring & mix everything together well;

6.       By now the chicken will have been soaking in the lemon juice for about 20 minutes & should start to look slightly paler as the acid in the lemon “cooks” it;

7.       Add the mixed marinade to the chicken & mix well to coat;

8.       Cover the bowl & leave in the fridge for 6 hours, or preferably overnight.  If you get chance, give it a mix a couple of times during this period;

9.       When ready to eat, heat the grill to its highest setting for 5-10 minutes.  Set the grill rack to be as close to the heat as possible without touching;

10.    Thread the chicken pieces onto skewers, but don’t bunch the pieces too tightly together – leave space around so that the pieces will cook evenly.  Joints are OK on their own.  If there is a lot of marinade, let some of it fall off – you don’t want too much, just enough to coat the meat;

11.    Grill the pieces for 5-10 minutes, turning occasionally, until they are just cooked through.  The edges/ corners should be just beginning to “catch”, so the odd burnt bit is fine (and adds to the flavour of the dish).  However, don’t over-cook it or the meat will be too dry;

12.    When cooked, serve on a bed of salad garnished with the sliced red onion, lime/lemon wedges and fresh coriander;

What else you need to know:

1.       Do not re-use any surplus marinade.  It should be discarded, as it has raw chicken juices in it;

2.       Do not brush more marinade onto the grilling meat – it should be moist enough on its own.  The end result should have a dry-ish outside, and not be wet or sticky;

3.       You can play around with the dried spices or the garlic/ chillie, adding more or less to taste.

4.       You can put the grilled meat & salad into a warmed naan, pitta or wrap then eat with your fingers to make a delicious fresh “kebab”.

Rebounding

Rebounding

I simply cannot lie quite still

And take the heavy weight

Bearing down upon me

Allowing myself to be crushed

The breath choked out of me

Until blackness overcomes

Nor will I be defeated

Or lose my self-belief

Nor have my spirit broken

For I will fight back every time

Against defeat and disappointment

Despair and deep depression

And I will get back up

And lift up my eyes

To stare back into the faces

Of those who dare to put me down

I will re-new, re-start, re-boot

Re-fresh and re-assess

Taking in my stride

Whatever weighs upon me

Re-framing things

In their right proportion

And regain correct perspective

For I am better than this

So I will dust off the dirt of disappointment

And reassert my determination

Showing my resilience

By picking up the fallen pieces

And replacing the rose-tinted glasses

Upon my smiling face

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Endless Day

Endless Day

Waking early, escaping hours of restless sleep

Shuffling down stairs in threadbare slippers

And faded dressing gown

To face another tedious day

She makes tea in the old brown pot

And sits at the empty kitchen table

Staring out through the cobwebbed window

Lambent rays of dawn

Flirt with the dark horizon

Struggling to get another daytime under way

Only slowly lighting the cloudy sky

Heavy with coming rain

The silence sits oppressive

And darkness gathers round

She ignores the gently dripping tap

As she drinks a second cup

And smokes a cigarette

Reflecting on the empty day ahead

The hours yet to be traversed

The quiet to be endured

Restlessly wandering from room to room

Sometimes standing, shiftless

Rearranging tasteless ornaments

Long since collected

Now unloved, undusted, unwanted

But something to do with her hands

To keep them from trembling

Sometimes sitting down again

Leafing through year-old magazines

Loathe to listen, minute after lingering minute

To the quiet ticking of the clock

Among the clutter on the mantel

Its hands seeming not to move

As the endless hours stretch away

For another long day with little purpose

The deserted hall, no-one to call

No letters in the mailbox

And a phone that never rings

Staring into empty space

Alone, with time to kill

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Coffee Shop

Coffee Shop

They come in waves

An ebb and flow of clientele

In and out, like a restless sea

Seeking favourite seats and corners

In the back, or near the big window

The regular morning ritual

The daily caffeine fix of choice

With standard order and loyalty card

The comforting, constant soundtrack

Of the steaming machine

The harsh grinding of Fairtrade beans

And gurgling of scalding water

Brewing long shots of espresso

Americano, Mocha and Latte

The counter filled with cakes and chocolates

And the clanking of spoons in cups and mugs

Clattering in saucers carefully carried away

Singles sit quietly, stirring froth

Peering into phones or computers

Living out their different lifestyles

Absorbed in the not-here, not-now

Thoughtful, contemplating

Playing with the sugar sachets

Or flipping idly through the papers

Ladies in twos and threes

Hustling and bustling

Amid bulging shopping and handbags

Between crowded tables

Dropping voices to a whisper

Through confidential sections

Of their general gossiping

Chatting and chattering

Lingering till lunchtime

Before suddenly rushing away

To meet a pressing engagement

Then the unexpected pause

A reduced coming and going

The noise dropping down to a whisper

Leaving chairs at awkward angles

A rare respite in operations

The barrista sighs and wipes his brow

And a waitress clears the tables

Wiping surfaces as she goes

Behind the receding tide

Of floating humanity

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

News From Bromham - Dateline Sunday 3rd July 2016

Bulletin From Bromham: Dateline – Sunday 3^rd July 2016

                                             

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Bromham:

                                                        

1.       Supporters of Bromham Casuals, who were knocked out of the 2016 West Wiltshire Germolene Cup by minnows Heddington, were forced to watch on in amazement as rival local side Melksham Morons, a scratch part-time side who had not played together before, continued to play like heroes and to dump out two other proper teams to reach the semi-final of the competition.  Their shock was compounded when Casuals’ manager Roy ‘Oi’ Bodge-some announced his resignation from the role.  So far there have been no applicants to replace him.

2.       And in Bromham’s own version of Game Of Thrones, the contest for the leadership of the Field Land-Owners’ Party (FLOP) entered new realms of fantasy this week.  Following the decision of Bromham voters to withdraw from Wiltshire (Wexit), FLOP leader Dave Campervan resigned, sparking a vicious internecine war between rival candidates to succeed him.  Several unknowns have declared their hand, but these were upstaged when Boris ‘Bonkers’ Piglet withdrew his name at the eleventh hour, following a severe shafting from his erstwhile campaign manager Michael ‘Specs’Byjove.  As rival candidates stabbed one another in the back, the likely favourite Teresa ‘Low-key’ Green carefully stepped over their twitching, mangled, bloody bodies to claim the reins of power.

3.       For details of these and all other Bromham stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station Carrot FM.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

What Will Our Children Say?

What Will Our Children Say?

What will our children say

When they look back at us,

From the vantage-point of their tomorrows,

Towards their empty yesterdays?

Will they understand our lack of action,

The time we wasted with indecision,

And let things drift from year to year,

Missing all those warning signs?

What will our children say

When they see that we could not agree,

And how we fought amongst ourselves,

Bickering, procrastinating,

Caught in many minds,

Snared in short-term self-interest,

And how we dithered and deliberated,

As things got worse and worse,

Just calmly carrying on,

Always hoping for the best?

What will our children say

When they look at what we did,

How we didn’t even try to change things,

But carried on regardless,

With pure blind faith in new technology,

Looking blithely to the future,

To provide the answers

That we could not find today?

What will our children say

About our undirected course,

With no hand upon the tiller,

Drifting towards oblivion,

Worrying only about the cost?

How will they ever comprehend

How we let things get this bad,

Used up all Earth’s bounty,

Exhausting our lonely planet,

Leaving a dirty, dried-up cinder

To circle round the Sun?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016

Dead Time

Dead time

Intervals of many hours, of waiting time

With a desperate need for resolution

Endless queues to reach suspicious clerks

And hard-faced irritable jobsworths

Notes and forms to be filled and filed

The ticking of endless empty boxes

By broken-nibbed pens, licked and grubby pencils

Rough smudges, stains and crossings-out

Gentle queries evoking impatient responses

Questions with no answers, statements taken

Mouths rinsed by endless cups of tasteless tea

Brown and thin, stewed in squeaky Styrofoam

Then dried again by cigarettes that taste of straw

And the dusty smoke of tar and nicotine

To coat the lungs, to calm the fraying nerves

A day of yawns and staring at the floor

Amid the stale atmosphere of inactivity, thick and clinging

To the labyrinthine structure of slow-motion procedure

The lost papers and missed appointments

The elephantine caveats, interminable details

With no escape from the dark and gloomy horror

Just the dour and dreary nightmare

A boredom borrowed from hell

A never-ending ennui, a depth of tiredness

The unremitting tedium of waiting, waiting

Hanging about and hanging on

In cobwebbed and dusty corridors

Of peeling paint and shuttered doors

Which hide nameless administrative men

Yet hanging on to the slowly-evaporating hope of a mite of progress

The becalmed, motionless, meaningless measurement of time

Watching clocks that do not move

Their hands surrendered to a standstill

Where seconds, minutes and hours mean nothing

With nowhere else to go

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016