Chicken champ

LONG years ago Sheikh Abdullah, Lion of Kashmir, penned his autobiography and titled it Atish e Chinar or Fire in the Poplars or Poplars Aflame. What a beautiful title we thought.

Then we encountered shola e dil — not a book but a pan-grilled quail. It was love at first bite. But the name seemed to jar a bit. Where was the ‘spark’ that had stolen our heart?

Neither the colour of the dish nor the taste was anywhere near fiery. It seemed that the Awadhi bawarchi was more than a little poetically inclined and was not inhibited about taking poetic licence. He was the one who called his kulfi lub e mashooq! This was many moons ago.

Recently we sampled chicken breasts that set our heart aflutter. The gentle glow spread from the palate downwards and the eyes we are told by fellow diners remained sparkling for long. Well when the hostess wanted us to give her creation a name atish-e-dil sprang to our lips, lub if you please, all by itself. The delicacy has an attractive hue reminiscent of dying embers in the fireplace in a cottage in the hills and the taste lingers on long like the afterglow of a love lost long ago warming so very pleasantly a winter afternoon when shadows begin to lengthen. The name seemed most apt.

It has been said often what is in a name? True, the proof is in the eating but in this case we feel name is an allure that will endure. What is most delightful is that the recipe is hassle free, healthy and can be easily improvised to mould itself to your desire. If this isn’t setting the heart afire, what else is?

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