KILLER RECIPE

AS PROMISED 

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 ~THE REST OF THE STORY~

MOGLAI CHICKEN

8 pieces boneless, skinless chicken

1 cup flour

1 tsp. salt

1tsp. pepper
Vegetable oil
2 Tbsp. butter
2 Medium onions, chopped fine
2 Tbsp. ginger-garlic paste (see note)
16 oz. can stewed tomatoes, undrained
¾ cup chicken broth
1 Cup sour cream
1/3 cup  brown sugar
1 tsp. saffron threads
1 tsp. cumin powder
1 tsp. cumin seed
 ½  tsp. turmeric
½ tsp. cayenne or crushed red pepper
½ tsp. ground cardamom
½ tsp. ground nutmeg
½ tsp. ground cloves
2 Tsp. ketchup
Cilantro, chopped for garnish

Mix flour, salt, and pepper in a large Ziploc baggie.  Rinse and dry chicken pieces.  Shake chicken in the flour mixture to coat.  Lightly coat the bottom of a large skillet or Dutch oven with oil. Brown chicken pieces on both sides over medium-high heat until golden brown.  Place chicken pieces in a 9” X 13”  baking dish and set aside.

Melt 2 Tbsp. butter and 1 Tbsp. oil in the same pan used to brown the chicken.  Sauté the onions until light brown.  Add the ginger-garlic paste and all the remaining ingredients except the cilantro.  Heat sauce until hot and well combined.  Pour sauce over chicken in the baking dish.

Bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes.

Garnish with cilantro.  Serve with Basmati or white rice.

NOTE:  You can buy a jar of ginger-garlic paste or make your own by grinding a 2” piece of ginger and 6-8 cloves to a paste in a blender.

Since I’ve never had a sense of smell, I can’t even begin to tell you how extraordinary this meal was from the tip of my nose to the tip of my tongue.  Fabulicious. Yummilicious. Oh-so-delicious!

While I love everything Italian, I especially love shell fish and eat it 3-4 times a week…with pasta of course.  Anyway, the following week, I decided to make Moglai shrimp.  If Moglai chicken was amazing, how bad could the shrimp be?

I was only cooking for two, so I needed to guesstimate the quantity of spices, placing each one in a bowl and taking a whiff…or two…or three… Heaven on earth.

After stuffing myself with this exotic entrée, I then took a whiff of each spice jar again, enjoying the pleasure of those wonderful Indian  ingredients when my palms began to itch.  Strange, but I ignored the annoyance.  But then, my ears were crazy itchy, and I couldn’t stop scratching.  The swelling was immediate as was the redness that followed.  My face and scalp were next.  Then, my torso.  I took a Benadryl and watched my entire upper body turn into one red welt.

Nurses on Call:

Me:  I’m really sorry to bother you, but I just finished dinner and I notice a rash all over.

Nurse:  Is your tongue swollen?

Me: What?  Well, er, no, I don’t think so.  >Rapid heart beat<

Nurse: Does your throat feel like it’s closing?

Me: My throat closing?  Oh, my G-d! Nooooooooooooo…>Pulse escalating<

Nurse: Did you eat something before this happened?

Me: Shrimp with Indian spices and then I took two Benadryl when the itching began.

Nurse:  Listen carefully.  Hang up and call 911.

Me:  Are you serious?  I can’t bother them.  It’s just a little allergy to something. 

Nurse: You may go into anaphylactic shock.  The Benadryl will cover you for a short time, but once it is out of your system you could die.  Hang up and call 911. I'll call back in 10 minutes to make sure that the paramedics arrived. 

I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve always been a girlie-girl and even with this emergency, I couldn’t help think how dreadful I looked and I was about to have “company.”  Racing to the bathroom, I combed my hair, brushed my teeth and debated whether or not to put on mascara.  How ridiculous is that?  But, help was on its way, and I didn’t want to look bad. 

With one more glance in the mirror, it didn’t take a rocket-scientist to realize that mascara wasn’t going to improve my swollen red face, blotched body and dumbo ears.  And yet, I knew the paramedics would be gorgeous.  They always are and if they were Italian…I’d be doomed, looking sick and disgusting.

The doorbell rang within minutes.  Three firemen, dressed to put out my fire, raced into the den.  One sat on the couch and opened a laptop and started with the questions.  Another took my finger and pricked it until he drew blood.  “Hey!  Not niceeeeeeeee!”

“Sorry, Ma’am, but I have to check your blood sugar.”

“I’m not anemic or diabetic.  Just embarrassed.”

The third took my blood pressure and pulse.  Both were incredibly high for me whose BP usually falls so low you’d have to place a mirror under my nose to make sure I’m breathing.  He said that was a good sign.  Having high blood pressure is a good sign?  Go figure. 

“What did you eat tonight?”

I filled him in on the details, plus a muscle relaxant that I had taken earlier after doing yard work, which was no job for this girlie-girl. 

“So, what would you like to do?”

I’d like to put on a cute outfit, make-up and go out, I thought, instead of looking like a big blob of cotton candy. “What do you mean?”

“You can either wait and see if the Benadryl will help or go to the hospital.”

“Since I took it, I’ve actually gotten worse.”

Then, he gave me the look.  Oh, how I hate that look. My heart raced.  I panicked.

“Go to the hospital before the Benadryl wears off, just to be safe.  Would you like us to take you?”

“By ambulance?  Are you insane?  No, I’ll drive myself…Is it okay if I drive myself?” second guessing my decision.

“If you leave now, yes. Hurry, you only have about 15-20 minutes or so.”

My heroes left and I changed out of my pajamas and drove quickly to the hospital where I waited and waited and waited, watching the red welts go from my torso, down my legs-all the way to the top of my toes.  Panic set it.  I ran to the check-in window.  “My tongue is starting to swell!”

So, Nurse Ratchet looked at me like I was a hypochondriac and moved me to the inside hallway where I sat with other pathetic souls waiting for a bed to open.

Eventually I was seen by a nurse and ER doctor.  They kept me from 9 pm until 4:30 am, pumped me up with epinephrine and a sedative to slow my heart rate.  With a prescription for prednisone in hand, they sent me home, advising me to get allergy tested.  Really?  Ya, think?!