Vegetable korma; is that sort of like when you eat all your spinach and good things will surely happen to you?

I wanted something new to take to a summer potluck and after leafing through my by now dog-eared copy of Hollyhock Cooks, I came across Vegetable Korma: curried vegetables; perfect!

When I told someone who I consider quite a foodie herself that it was a korma, I was met with a puzzled expression. Didn’t everyone know what a korma was?  After a bit of research, I found that maybe even I didn’t know what a true korma was.

The Food Lovers’ Companion by Barron, generally considered a trusted reference by most cooks, gives the following definition for korma: “[KOR-mah] Popular in India and Pakistan, korma is a spicy dish of mutton, lamb, or chicken, usually with the addition of onions and sometimes other vegetables.”

The latest edition of Larousse Gastronomique offers the following enlightenment: “A mildly spiced Indian dish thickened with poppy seeds and/or nuts such as cashew or almonds. Yoghurt and/or cream enrich the sauce. Cubes of lean meat or chicken may be the main ingredient for a korma.”

Wikipedia weighs in with: “Mild curry often made with yoghurt, cream or nuts, or coconut milk. Usually with chicken.” Wikipedia —a site I do not base my entire decision making on, by the way—further adds that a korma generally is spiced with coriander, cumin, cardamom, and cloves in a ratio of 8:2:1:1.
And then there are extensive blog conversations where people discuss and disagree about what a korma should be, and the difference between a korma and a rogan josh. I would have been further ahead to just have said it was curried vegetables and tofu on rice!

Eventually, after reading through about as much of the contradictions as I can handle, I have come to a definition that I can live with: my own!

Korma (or khorma or kurma or qorma):  a mild—but not bland—Indian dish in which a variety of meats—although most often either lamb or chicken—and vegetables or tofu, or all, are slowly braised in a creamy sauce  made with either yoghurt, cream, nut pastes, coconut milk, or all, seasoned with a mixture (masala) of normally the milder Indian spices—the ones I call “the Cs”—coriander, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, and sometimes cumin, then often, but not always, served over rice.

The term korma is an Indian word for “braise.” Therefore, any dish where meats are slow cooked in liquid, particularly after marinating in yoghurt, can be called a korma. The caramelized onions thicken and sweeten the final sauce, giving it a light golden colour. Kormas usually do not contain either turmeric (that brilliant orange stuff) or tomatoes, but there are many exceptions to this rule as well.

The variation in spices and ingredients depends largely upon from whether the dish originated in the north or south of India; South India generally tends toward hotter foods, especially with the addition of chillies, using mainly coconut milk as the creamy base while the North prefers richer and sweeter ingredients such as dairy cream, nuts and nut pastes. The recipe I was using from Hollyhock Cooks falls somewhere in the middle.

What makes a korma special, I think, is the attention to ingredients and the slow preparation from scratch. You can buy powdered masala (mixtures of Indian spices used for curries) or even pre-made korma sauces, but if you happen to have the time, making a curry from scratch is very satisfying.

The Hollyhock recipe calls for 3 cups of onion, along with jalapenos, ¼ cup of freshly ground ginger, and 2 tbsp of fresh garlic, slowly sautéed until the onions are caramelized. I know this sounds like it will make a very hot dish, but honestly, once it all comes together, it doesn’t blast your head off.

You next add the spices and continue to sauté.  The exotic perfume of “The Cs” soon permeates the house. This recipe calls for yoghurt and coconut milk to make the sauce, then the addition of cauliflower, carrots, red and green peppers, and green beans. I also added cubes of tofu that I had browned in a frying pan.

I imagine that you could expand upon this and add all sorts of vegetables including potatoes, summer and winter squash, even eggplant.

At this point, I cooled the korma down, as the recipe suggested, and put it into the fridge until the next day to allow the flavours to meld and vegetables to absorb the seasoning.

The next day, while I re-heated the korma, I made jasmine-scented brown basmati rice, and poured it over. It looked very pretty with coriander leaves as garnish. You can also garnish with any variety of nuts or seeds. I would have to say that for me, I found using “5-8 cloves” (I used 8) was too much clove for me. It was a bit bitter, and I would use the “5” next time. Some recipes seem very hot. One lamb korma recipe I found had 8 whole red chilies, mustard seeds, 5 cloves, and red chili powder, as well as loads of fresh garlic and ginger. That would be zippy to say the least. So much for korma being “a mild curry”!

If you do go looking in Indian cookbooks for korma or any other curry recipes, you may not recognize half of the ingredients, so I will give you a few hints: if you see “khas-khas,” they mean poppy seeds, “dhania” are coriander seed, and “jeera” are cumin seeds. You will also find “nigella,” “kalonji,” and “black onion seed” used interchangeably. Try www.indianfoodsco.com for a good Indian food glossary.

The most unusual and unexpected website I came across in this research is written by Ian Anderson—yes, that Ian Anderson!—who gives a guide to ordering Indian food in restaurants. He suggests that first time goers order any sort of korma as their main dish because in general it is the mildest of all curries. (He figures that John Denver was probably a korma kind of guy.) If you are of my generation, know what karma is, and know who Jethro Tull are, check out: www.j-tull.com/musicians.  I wonder where my copy of “Thick as a Brick” is; that would make great background music to cook by.