Mastering Beef

গরুর চাঁপ 

Tenderised Beef

Apologies for the crappy picture, and all the oil!

I've let myself down a little over the last few years in terms of home cooking beef and red meat. This is unforgivable really, given how beef is meant to be my favourite meat. I've tried to compensate with steak, but no matter how much peppercorn sauce I slather onto a slab of meat it does nothing to recreate the Bangladeshi experience. Until recently any red meat I cooked at home came out smelling just a little off-kilter. I experimented with various modifications to mom's recipes and took on board friends' suggestions - doing everything from adding extra spices to boiling, frying or searing the meat before cooking. In the end, it seems I've found a solution with this beef "chaap" (or tenderised beef) recipe, which I cooked slowly for a significantly longer time than my mom had recommended. 

Fakruddin, at midday before the Ramadan evening iftaar rush

Beef chaap is not an average, everyday dish. It has rich, complex flavours achieved by infusing the meat with an unusual number spices over the length of the cooking process. Chaap is thus reserved for special meals in our family during Ramadan in Dhaka, traditionally bought from Fakruddin’s. The late Fakruddin was originally a chef who ran the canteen at my cousin's old school Viqarunnisa, before branching out to serve food to the public. His sons operate a much bigger business now, built on the back of their father's culinary reputation. Fakruddin is famous for his biryani, but good biryani is easy to come by in Dhaka and it’s his more unique beef chaap that I remember most vividly. Bangladeshi food markets are always heaving during Ramadan, especially near iftaar time. Fakruddin’s is definitely no exception and so it’s always safest to get in early like in the photograph above. By 3 PM the place is packed, and getting to the food counter seems nigh on impossible amidst the crush of people.

Chaap is usually store-bought for special occasions and I've never really heard of anyone cooking it at home. Mom had to resort this as we had no access to Fakruddin while abroad - much like how and why I run this blog now. I don’t know where her original comes from, but I don't consider my version of it complete as some of the spice amounts below aren’t yet very well defined. I will therefore be coming back to this with edits and updates so please check back and for now, proceed with caution!

An Evolving Relationship

বেগুন ভাজি 

Fried Aubergine

Fried aubergines done in a mostly traditional manner.
Also - I wasn't responsible for the coriander.

A large chunk of my childhood food memories actually revolve around a past hatred for certain vegetables. If they were ever forced on me, I would try to gulp them down without chewing. On the odd occasion I ended up with their horrible taste in my mouth, I’d rush onto the meat course to purify my palate.  Of course, I say past hatred because my tastes have evolved - just as my parents always told me they would! I now dislike fewer vegetables, with my disgust limited to Brussel sprouts, fennel and certain preparations of cauliflower. 

Having said this, there are vegetables out there that I have always liked – spinach, broccoli and mushrooms stand out as long-time favourites. I feel that, as with all foods, the method of preparation makes a big difference. I’ve always had a soft spot for the East-Southeast Asian take on vegetables, whereas Bangladeshi vegetarian cuisine has always engendered mixed feelings. Everyday recipes like the mixed vegetable dish I've written about before I actually grew up detesting, though my opinion has changed now. For some reason (read: I was/am a difficult child) I’ve always liked dishes containing the more difficult to procure Bangladeshi vegetables like pui shag, lota, kochu or raw jackfruit. 

The above vegetables are even more difficult to get your hands on in Europe, and so they haven’t made their way to the blog yet. Aubergines on the other hand grow locally, meaning I've cooked this dish now and again while living in the UK. It's a very simple everyday dish, often served with khichuri. I've never seen any majors variations of it beyond a change in heat levels or the introduction of sour notes - the latter of which I've done below using yoghurt.