Mrs Bhan's Most Awesome Butter Chicken, and I Love St Vincent de Paul

So today Totie and I went Op shopping at St Vincent de Paul. I've been looking for a "new" dressing table for about three years now, and have yet to find one that I love. So, today I went looking again, and no, I didn't find one again. I am getting heartily sick of having my clothes in piles around the walls of my room, although it does make putting laundry away very easy. What I did find was a dinner service for $30! Yes $30! I know! I couldn't pass it up either. Its British and post-war, probably 50's - 60's and reminds me of Aunty Olive, for some reason. 

Aunty Olive is my mothers aunt. She was one of the few stable people of my childhood. Her, and my Nana and Poppa. It seemed that every holidays I either went to Nana's or Mum would take my brother, sister and I to Raglan to stay with Aunty Olive. In my memory it was always either beautifully sunny or it was teeming with rain! Raglan during the 1970's was a sleepy seaside town. The shops opened on Saturday mornings (an absolute rarity during my childhood, I personally know of only one other town that could do this during that time, Taupo. I think it had something to do with being holiday places.) In saying that, the shops closed on Wednesday afternoons! I know! Unheard of! 


Aunty Olive and Uncle Les (before he died) lived in a white brick house next door to a defunct Masonic Lodge building. I remember there being a huge barn-like building down at the bottom of the section, it was full of wood, I think Uncle Les was a builder. Aunty Olive ran a shop, which was tucked onto the front of the house. The shop was simply awesome, it was a wine shop/hardware shop. We were always getting to trouble for stirring the putty, which lived in a large bucket with a layer of oily stuff over the top of it. It was such a temptation.


Raglan has a large harbour with lots of safe swimming, you had to cross over a huge foot bridge, which scared my rigid for a long time, I'm still not that great at heights, but if you wanted to go for a swim, you had to cross the bridge. If you click on the link above you can see the foot bridge and the little jetty where I learned to fish. Most people nowadays think of Raglan as a surf destination. We never did that. Surfers were dangerous people, and we were certainly shielded from them, especially as my sister and I got to be teenagers. I think I was probably pretty safe, surfers weren't my type, at all, not that I really knew what my type was then.


When Uncle Les died, Aunty Olive built herself a new house, just down the road from her old house. I always thought she was totally awesome doing that, I never knew a girl could do that kind of thing, but she did! I always admired Aunty Olive, she was a strong independent woman, and if I can grow up to be half the woman she is, I will be doing just fine.


If Aunty Olive had any faults it was her ownership of Boots. Boots was the most horrible cat in the entire world! He was a ginger tom, and he would not let anyone pat him. If you did, he would rip your arm off at the shoulder. Aunty Olive loved Boots, but I couldn't see any redeeming qualities in the animal at all! But for all that, I loved Aunty Olive, very much.


While I was writing this, I thought I would Google Aunty Olive, and I found an article about her:


"Olive Smith (nee Smith)

Olive Smith was born in Hawera, Tarankai but spent most of her youth in Otorohanga. As a young woman Olive’s ambition was to become a mechanic because “the boys were going to war and there was nobody else.” When she was 18 Olive joined the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps (WAAC) and became a driver. Responsible for delivering trucks between Trentham and Waiouru the army was a whole new world for Olive.
“We just had as much fun as we could out of it because driving from Waioru to Trentham was a long dog day if you didn’t do something in between to break the monotony,” she recalls.
Olive and her mother had a small farm in Otorohanga. “The land was our living. We always had chooks. They were a godsend because you could always cook something with the eggs. When the hens got old and finished with laying mum would boil them first and then put them in the oven. We never starved. No, well nobody in New Zealand should’ve starved. If you were near the water you’d get fish and things. The sugar was rationed but we actually had plenty to eat here in New Zealand.”
After the war Olive and her husband Les settled in Raglan and the couple constructed the concrete block premises next to the West Coast Medical Centre on Wallis Street." (http://www.raglan.net.nz/raglan-news/raglan-women-remember-the-war/)

So, tonight for dinner, Amy and I tried this:

Butter Chicken

2-3 boneless chicken breasts

300ml cream

4 tbsp tomato paste

1 tbsp crushed ginger

1 tbsp crushed garlic

1 med onion chopped

1/2 tsp red chili powder

1 tsp turmeric

1 tsp salt

2 tsp cinnamon/1tsp cinnamon

2 tbsp butter

coriander leaves

Cut chicken into cubes. Mix all the dry spices in a large bowl, add the chicken and ginger and mix through. Melt the butter in a pan, fry onion until golden. Add the garlic, mix through. Add the chicken mixture to the pan, mix through and heat over a medium heat until the chicken is cooked. Add tomato paste, mix thoroughly, and cook for about 2 minutes. Add the cream, and continue to heat gently, covered for a few minutes.

Serve over rice, garnish with cinnamon and coriander leaves.

This was the best Butter Chicken I have ever eaten. It was rich and buttery, the sauce was thick and luxurious. We will definitely be having this again. Try it you won't be disappointed.