From Malaysian chicken to Caribbean crab: four global curry recipes

. UK edition

A pan of chicken and squash curry beside rice and a glass of beer
Mandy Yin’s chicken and squash curry. Photograph: Photography: Laura Edwards/The Guardian. Food styling: Joss Herd. Prop styling: Tabitha Hawkins.

A Japanese fusion-fuelled garlic mushroom doria, an aromatic Malay chicken and squash curry, a rich Rajasthani papad ki sabji, and a Caribbean curry crab with roasted corn and dumplings

Mandy Yin’s chicken and squash curry (pictured top)

Curry runs through Malaysia’s veins; it’s in every kitchen and at every food stall, whether run by Malays, Chinese or Indians. We tend to cook curries using either a wet spice paste (rempah) straight from the morning market, or a good curry powder – every household keeps a pack of Adabi or Baba’s in the cupboard as a fallback; we have no shame in this at all. Only when you’ve got time on your hands, or you’re cooking to impress, do you build a rempah from scratch.

My favourite curries come from the Mamak Tamil Muslim cooks behind Malaysia’s all-night kopitiams, who make the best roti canai going. Go for the roti and the meat curries alongside, washed down with teh tarik – strong black tea sweetened with condensed milk, pulled until it froths.

In my cookbook Simply Malaysian, I included my take on Dad’s Mamak lamb and potato curry. He starts with a whole leg, which he bones and trims himself, a heavy hand of curry powder, then the aromatics Malaysians call empat sekawan (the four friends): star anise, cassia, cloves, cardamom. Here, I’ve swapped the lamb for chicken thighs on the bone – they’re cheaper, quicker and what most of us reach for on a weeknight – and the potatoes for butternut squash. Pumpkins and gourds are a staple of Malay cooking, and are most at home in a coconut gravy, though they rarely share a pot with meat. So, squash takes the potatoes’ place and earns its keep, holding its shape and drinking up the sauce.

A word on the meat. In Malaysia we cook it in the curry it’s going to be served in – not seared or simmered separately and folded in at the end – so the two season each other the whole way. And we cook it on the bone, always: bone-in gives a richer, glossier sauce than any fillet will. Like all curries, this eats even better the next day, once the flavours have settled. If you’re not eating it straight away, reduce the cooking time in the penultimate step to 10 minutes (to allow the squash to finish cooking when reheating it). Any leftover sauce eaten with rice and a fried egg or two is one of life’s simple pleasures.

Prep 15 min
Cook 45 min
Serves 4-6

1 medium onion, peeled and roughly chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled
1 inch (2½cm) piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
5 tbsp vegetable or peanut oil
¾ tbsp table salt
4 tbsp Adabi meat curry powder – alternatively, combine 1 tbsp chilli powder, 1 tbsp ground coriander, 1 tbsp ground turmeric, 1 tsp finely ground black pepper and 2 tsp ground cumin
½ tsp chilli powder
1 star anise
4 cloves
1 stick cassia bark, or ½ cinnamon stick
2 green cardamom pods, lightly bashed with a pestle to crack the skin
1kg skinless, bone-in chicken thighs
200g tinned chopped tomatoes, or fresh tomatoes, roughly chopped
1 butternut squash, or part of a pumpkin, peeled, deseeded and cut into 3cm x 2cm chunks (approximately 800-850g)
200ml coconut milk
30g bunch coriander, finely chopped stalks and all (optional)

Finely chop the onion, garlic and ginger in a food processor. Heat the oil in a large, non-stick wok/saucepan or a deep casserole dish over a medium heat, then add the onion-garlic mix and salt, and stir-fry for five minutes, until softened.

Turn the heat down to medium-low, then add the curry powder, chilli powder, star anise, cloves, cassia and cardamom, and stir-fry for two minutes. Add a splash of water if the spices start to catch on the bottom of the pan.

Add the chicken thighs and turn them through the paste, until every piece is coated. Pour in 200ml water and the tomatoes, stir, then bring up to a boil. Lower the heat to medium-low, cover and simmer for 15 minutes, turning the thighs and stirring every five minutes.

Add the squash/pumpkin and coconut milk, then cover and bring back to a boil over a medium heat. Check in every few minutes to see whether it has come up to a boil, and give it a stir. Take your time, as the chicken and squash slowly release their juices into the sauce, so you end up with enough liquid to keep almost everything submerged.

Once boiling, lower the heat to medium-low and cook, uncovered, for 15 minutes, stirring every few minutes and nudging the squash carefully back under the sauce. Turn the heat off, stir through the coriander and serve with plenty of rice.

Keshia Sakarah’s curry crab, roasted corn and cassava dumplings

When most people think of curry, they probably don’t think of the Caribbean, yet many of our dishes incorporate spices in a variety of ways. While they aren’t native or indigenous ingredients, they are now very much part of daily life.

They were introduced to the region by the indentured labourers from the Indian subcontinent. Their use of spices in this new part of the world transformed the cuisine in many ways, using ground spices to flavour slow-cooked meat and fish, or toasting whole ones in oil to finish vegetables, and brought about a brand-new cooking style.

I’ve eaten curry throughout my life, and thinking of my love for it unearths many fond memories: when I’m at Notting Hill carnival, I have to support my favourite food stands off Kensal Road. And then there are my many visits to the Caribbean. Experiencing curry on different islands, in a variety of ways, always piques my curiosity; it speaks to the cultural layers of the region and how the Caribbean really is a microcosm of the many communities that make up the world. In Guadeloupe, I tried colombo – a classic French Caribbean curry (usually chicken or fish), which incorporates toasted, ground rice into the spices and lots of lime juice into the sauce. Unlike the curries of the anglophone islands (Jamaica, Antigua, Grenada, for example), it is more acidic and paler in complexion, yet still served with rice and beans. In Trinidad, home to one of the largest Indo-Caribbean communities, curry is a staple, originally found mostly in homes, but now also in roti shops across the island. Some of the best are in central Trinidad, where generations of Indian communities have settled for generations.

Prep 10 min
Rest 30 min
Cook 55 min
Serves 4

For the cassava dumplings
125g cassava flour
125g plain flour
1⅛ tsp fine sea salt, plus extra for cooking the dumplings
½ tsp baking powder
1 tbsp olive pomace or rapeseed oil, plus extra for cooking the dumplings
180ml cold water

For the green seasoning
2 spring onions
6 garlic cloves, peeled
5cm piece ginger
15g flat-leaf parsley, leaves and stalks
30g coriander, leaves and stalks
75ml cold water
1 lime, juiced
2 tbsp rapeseed oil

For the curry base
2 fresh corn cobs
3 tbsp ghee or rapeseed oil
2 tbsp curry powder
2 tsp ground turmeric
4 tsp garam masala or amchar masala
1 scotch bonnet, pierced
600ml good-quality coconut milk
290g white crab meat

Combine all the ingredients for the cassava dumplings in a bowl, then knead to form a soft dough; set aside to rest for 30 minutes.

Blend all the green seasoning ingredients apart from the oil in a blender until almost smooth, then transfer to a jar and stir in the oil.

Roast the corn cobs over an open flame or under a hot grill, turning occasionally, until charred all over; set aside to cool. Once cool enough to handle, slice off the kernels and set aside, discarding the husks.

For the curry base, heat the ghee/oil in a pan set over a medium heat. Add the spices and toast lightly for 30 seconds to a minute. Add 200ml cold water and gently boil for three to four minutes, then add two tablespoons of the green seasoning, the scotch bonnet and half the grilled corn, and mix well.

Tip in the coconut milk, increase the heat until lightly boiling, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 10-12 minutes, until the sauce looks smooth and emulsified.

Meanwhile, divide the dumpling dough into 32 equal pieces, then roll into balls. Place them spaced out on a tray, dusting with a little extra flour if they’re sticky. Cover with a tea towel and set aside.

Bring a pan of water to the boil, then add a teaspoon of salt and a teaspoon of oil. Once boiling, cook the dumplings in batches for eight to 10 minutes, or until they float. Remove from the pan with a slotted spoon to a bowl of cold water (they will cook further in the curry later).

To finish the curry, give the pan another stir – it should have reduced and thickened slightly. Remove the scotch bonnet and discard, then pour the curry into a blender and blitz smooth. Pass through a sieve, then return the liquid to the pan.

Put over a medium-high heat, add the cooked dumplings, then reduce to a low simmer and cook foreight to 10 minutes, until the dumplings are soft and have absorbed some of the colour from the curry. Remove from the heat and gently fold in the crab meat, ensuring it doesn’t break up. Finish with the remaining grilled corn and a few more drops of the green seasoning, then serve.

Tim Anderson’s garlic mushroom curry doria (Japanese rice gratin)

Japan’s curry doria – also known as yaki-curry, or baked curry – is one of my all-time favourite blank-slate meal formats. It is essentially a rice gratin, containing plump grains of Japanese short-grain rice smothered in smooth Japanese curry sauce, all tucked under a luxurious duvet of molten cheese. In other words, a masterclass in comfort cookery.

Because its core elements are so amenably mellow in terms of flavour, the curry doria format works with just about any veg or protein you like, or whatever’s in season. But I like to lean into its heartiness with rich, meaty ingredients, such as the mushrooms and greens I’ve used here, along with a liberal dose of garlic and butter, inspired by old-school baked mushroom starters.

Prep 10 min
Cook 45 min
Serves 4

Butter, as needed
4 portions cooked Japanese rice (300g uncooked)
400g mushrooms – I love oyster mushrooms, but use any you like
4 garlic cloves
Salt and black pepper
100g mustard greens or chard, coarsely chopped
1 pack (around 90g) Japanese curry roux
50g grated mozzarella
50g grated medium or mild cheddar
50g grated Emmental
1 small handful flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
Some kind of crunchy onion product, such as cheese and onion crisps, onion rings, or fried shallots (I highly recommend the brand Wild Rice), to garnish

Rub a medium baking dish (around 23cm square,) with butter. Pack the cooked rice into the bottom of the dish in an even layer, using a bit of force so it’s relatively dense – if it has too many air gaps, the curry sauce will flow into it, and the gratin will become more stodgy than saucy.

Then, prepare the mushrooms. Oyster mushrooms, shimeji, or ordinary white or chestnut mushrooms can simply be broken into bite-size pieces; smaller mushrooms like buttons and chanterelles can be left whole; shiitake should be de-stemmed; and if you are using any long, tough mushrooms like king oysters or enoki, they should be chopped into roughly 1-inch chunks. Remember to clean any wild mushrooms so they’re free of dirt or grit before cooking.

Peel and chop the garlic, sprinkle it with salt, then continue to mince it finely, and drag the side of your knife through it, to smash it into a coarse paste; the salt will help soften the garlic and draw out its pungent oils.

In a wide saute pan, melt a generous knob of butter over a medium-high heat, then add the garlic, mushrooms, greens, and a few grinds of pepper. Toss them through the butter, then cook without stirring for four to five minutes, so the mushrooms brown on one side. Remove from the heat, then scrape everything out of the pan and on to the rice in the baking dish. Heat the oven to 220C (200C fan)/425F/gas 7.

In the same pan you used to saute the mushrooms, prepare the curry sauce according to packet instructions – but don’t add any additional meat or veg, if it calls for them. Once the sauce is cooked out and smooth, pour this over the mushrooms and rice.

Top with the cheeses and bake for about 20 minutes, until browned on top. Serve piping hot, garnished with a little chopped parsley and a scattering of the crunchy onion product of your choosing.

Maunika Gowardhan’s rajasthani papad ki sabji

Although I grew up in Mumbai, I hail from a family with roots in the Konkani and western coastal region sprawled across the Deccan Plateau in India. Dishes from this region are robust, hearty and we celebrate curries with warmth, aroma, and complex flavours.

Travelling across India, the food changes within regions and reflects the ingredients available, the seasons and changes in climate. But this is one of my favourite curries from the state of Rajasthan. Papad ki sabji is a staple in homes across the north-west of India and primarily made with turmeric, coriander and fenugreek in a rich gravy simmered with cooked papad (poppadum). This dish is often served in a Rajasthani thali, which is vibrant and delicious, but it is also served as a weekday curry with plain rice.

Yoghurt added to the curry is cooling and lends richness to the gravy. Traditionally, the papad is deep-fried but my recipe uses roast papads, which can be done in the microwave in just a few seconds (follow the packet instructions for cooking the papad). The charred edges on the papad lend a lot of flavour to the curry.

Prep 10 min
Cook 30 min
Serves 4

4 garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped
1 inch (2½cm) piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
1 small bird’s eye green chilli, deseeded if you prefer less heat
100g tomatoes, roughly chopped
1 tbsp tomato puree
3 tbsp vegetable oil or ghee
½ tsp cumin seeds
A pinch of asafoetida
1 tbsp coriander powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp Kashmiri chilli powder
250g Greek yoghurt, whisked well (make sure there are no lumps; this way it won’t split as it cooks)
Salt
2 tbsp dried fenugreek leaves (kasoori methi)
4 roasted papads/poppadum
Fresh coriander, to garnish

Put the garlic, ginger, green chilli and a splash of water in a blender and blend to a smooth, fine paste; set aside.

In the same blender, blend the tomato and tomato puree to a paste.

Heat the oil in a heavy-based nonstick saucepan over a low heat. Add the cumin seeds and asafoetida, and fry for two seconds. Add the garlic/ginger paste and fry for 20 seconds, then add the blended tomatoes and cook for six minutes, stirring well.

As the oil leaves the sides of the pan, add the powdered spices and fry for a minute. Tip in the yoghurt a little at a time, stirring well, then cook and stir on a low heat for three to four minutes.

Add 300ml water, season to taste and simmer for six to eight minutes. Add the fenugreek leaves, along with the roasted papad and cook, covered, for two minutes. Garnish with coriander and serve with rice.