Korma Chameleon
Two Saturdays ago, I had a bad morning. A bad Saturday morning is much more frustrating than a bad Monday morning because it’s so easy to have a good Saturday morning. All you have to do is stay in bed until noon. A bad Saturday morning is usually your own fault.
My bad Saturday morning two Saturdays ago was no exception. I got out of bed at 6:30 am (my first mistake) to run a 10k. I was looking forward to the 10k until it started raining on Friday evening. “Maybe the rain will stop, and then I will feel silly for not going,” I thought as I went to bed early, woke up early, got ready, drove to the 10k, parked my car, and jogged to the starting area in the rain.
The rain did not stop, and I felt silly for going. The 10k did not start on time. The starting line area was flooded, so instead of everyone starting at once, each runner gingerly stepped around a huge puddle in single file to cross the starting line.
I’ve run in the rain before. I’ve raced in the rain before. But I’ve never raced a 10k after standing around in the pouring rain for over an hour (tip: run faster than me and you won’t have to start quite so far in the back). I was so cold and wet that I didn’t even notice the L.A. Rams cheerleaders that were somewhere along the course shouting encouragement.
When I’m having a bad run, I try to distract myself by thinking about what I’m going to eat after I finish running. I knew I was feeling rough because all I could think about was chicken korma.
When I lived in Boston in my twenties, my apartment was around the corner from an Indian restaurant, and whenever I was having a bad day, I would order takeout. A really bad day called for chicken korma. A really, really bad day called for chicken korma, rice, and naan (it’s a scientific fact that double carbs make you at least 10% less sad). You have a lot of double carb days in grad school.
Joni Mitchell famously sang “You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone” (although I heard the Counting Crows version first, to my great shame). Most of that song describes things being taken away from the narrator by an outside entity, but you can also unwittingly take things away from yourself when you move.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but no two chicken kormas are the same. The word “korma” comes from an Urdu word for “braise.” Chicken korma is a dish in which the chicken is braised, usually in yogurt. In other words, “korma” refers to the preparation and not the sauce. The components of the sauce vary substantially across regions in India and can even vary quite a bit between individual chefs. The korma that I ate in Boston was similar to the Northern Indian style, mild and creamy with cashews. In Southern India, korma is often tomato-based and spicier.
Since leaving Boston, I’ve struggled to find chicken korma that tastes similar enough to the chicken korma from my neighborhood spot to trigger comfort food feelings. It’s been frustrating at times, but it doesn’t mean I’ve had a lot of bad chicken korma. Food can be objectively good if it balances salt, fat, acid, and heat; if the meat and vegetables are cooked properly; if it achieves textural contrast; if it looks pretty (more important than ever in the Instagram era). Food is subjectively good if it makes you feel good, or if it at least reminds you of a time when you felt better than you feel right now.
Lots of subjectively good food is objectively bad (for example, I’m not currently hungry, but if a CrunchWrap Supreme appeared in front of me right now, I would eat it happily). Sometimes, food that is objectively good can be subjectively bad, if it aims for your memories and misses. At a very fancy restaurant in Chicago, I was served a slice of cheesecake topped with tomatoes in gelatin that was meant to evoke school lunch pizza. It was objectively good, but a dish is never going to feel like school lunch pizza if the cheese doesn’t all slide off in one greasy, scalding bite.
All this to say, on my very bad Saturday two Saturdays ago, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take a chance on another chicken korma. So far that morning, my optimism had led to me getting rained on for three straight hours. I decided to wait until afternoon to order, just to be safe.
I picked a place called Curry Boys, based entirely on a DoorDash review by Jags M that said “The states have the very worst Indian food it’s not Indian. This spot tho the lamb curry is on point… Thank u for finally giving me a taste of home after 26 months of living in Cali and craving this exact taste. I’ve been to 15-20 Indian spots and they’re all absolutely trash so I thank u!”
I wasn’t even going to order lamb curry, but I think I kind of understood what Jags M was going through.
I also chose Curry Boys because you can order a little tray with two entrees, rice, and naan for one person. This meant I could get chicken korma, double carbs, and daal, which I have less complicated feelings about and always like. I ordered daal makhani, which meant double cream AND double carbs, which is the perfect antidote to getting rained on for three hours and also running.
The chicken korma was missing cashews but otherwise was surprisingly close to what I was looking for! I almost cried. There were even some improvements. The chicken was shredded instead of cubed, meaning it was more tender and the dish had a better sauce-to-chicken ratio. The sauce was a little spicier than the Boston version while still being very creamy. The naan was a bit greasy, which I don’t always want but definitely want when I’m grumpy.
To paraphrase Jags M: Thank u for finally giving me a taste of the Indian restaurant that happened to be around the corner from me when I lived in Boston after 142 months of living in other places and craving this exact taste.
Did you remain dry while eating your chicken korma dish?