Chicken Berry Britannia (ππ’ Chicken Berry Britannia & the Great Biryani Brouhaha π₯³πΆοΈ)
It all began on a sleepy Sunday when I sprang out of bed with a single thought: βLetβs do something dangerously delicious today.β My poor husband, who thought I was finally getting serious about yoga, found me instead elbow-deep in soaked basmati rice, muttering things like βThis berry shall be the crown jewel
I whipped out the Dishoom cookbook like it was a family heirloom and declared, βToday, we make Chicken Berry Britannia β and no, I donβt mean the biscuit.β
As the biryani cooked in my prized earthen tagine pot (yes, I like drama with my dum), a smoky perfume filled the house so intensely that even our neighborβs cat tried to climb in through the window for a whiff. Meanwhile, I tossed a side salad using my sea turtle salad servers which, if Iβm being honest, are more aesthetic than practical. One slipped into the dressing bowl like a beachy belly flop, and the lettuce never recovered.
Right then, the in-laws showed up unannounced β as they do β suspiciously sniffing and eyeing the berry bits in the rice.
βWhat is this? Biryani with jam?β my MIL whispered to my FIL like I couldnβt hear them.
But then my husband took a bite, paused dramatically, and muttered, βI think... I love this more than cricket.β Everyone gasped. Even the fan stopped spinning for a second.
The meal was a smoky, spicy, fruity success. The in-laws may still think raisins are illegal in biryani, but Iβve converted them one berry at a time.
Iβm planning a reel soon, where the tagine pot gets a slow-mo smoky lid lift like itβs in a Bollywood action sequence. Iβll add dramatic music. Possibly a wind machine.
Until then, I raise my salad tongs (one slippery sea turtle and all) and say:
Eid Mubarak, may your biryani always be berry bright and beautifully burnt on the bottom! πβ¨
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