If like me, you are partial to a curry, you probably tried at least once to follow a more adventurous recipe using all the proper spices, grinding them up etc rather than using a jar or packet. Of which there are plenty these days. When I have the occasional afternoon free and the mood strikes me I like to sift through my Indian cook books and have a crack at a nice sounding spicy dish. And so this weekend found myself trying a new chicken curry that should have taken around 2 hours to prepare.
Readers of this blog will recall Harri's recent egg tossing. If not, here read this. http://sharon-theawfultruth.blogspot.com/2011/10/eggs.html So it's fair to say I had some prior warning that Harri likes to throw food about.
So anyway, I prepared my separate dishes with the ground cinnamon, cloves and curry leaves. The cashew and milk paste. The onion, cumin, ground coriander and tomato paste. Setting them up in a neat row on the chopping board to access easily once the marinated chicken pieces were cooked. All was going well until Harri enters the picture (cue Omen sound track). Just as I raise a well earned glass of vino to my parched lips I hear the sound of smashing ceramic. Which would be fine, if that ceramic was not once a bowl containing my pre prepared spices, which are now littering the kitchen floor.
Now Harri's therapists have made it clear that the worst thing we can do when he 'misbehaves' is react. So the word 'SHIT!' inside my head stays there. My husband looks at me waiting for the fallout. But I don't know how to react without the externalising of my frustration being unleashed. So I start again with the spices. Wondering the whole time, why is this child so motivated to destroy? And will he ever grow out of it? Insert big sigh here.
So anyway, I prepared my separate dishes with the ground cinnamon, cloves and curry leaves. The cashew and milk paste. The onion, cumin, ground coriander and tomato paste. Setting them up in a neat row on the chopping board to access easily once the marinated chicken pieces were cooked. All was going well until Harri enters the picture (cue Omen sound track). Just as I raise a well earned glass of vino to my parched lips I hear the sound of smashing ceramic. Which would be fine, if that ceramic was not once a bowl containing my pre prepared spices, which are now littering the kitchen floor.
Now Harri's therapists have made it clear that the worst thing we can do when he 'misbehaves' is react. So the word 'SHIT!' inside my head stays there. My husband looks at me waiting for the fallout. But I don't know how to react without the externalising of my frustration being unleashed. So I start again with the spices. Wondering the whole time, why is this child so motivated to destroy? And will he ever grow out of it? Insert big sigh here.
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