The Driver Must Die

I’m having yet another ‘here, hold my cupcake’ moment (what? I don’t wear earrings) in front of the office while my cabbie (henceforth referred to as The Boss) gives me yet another Pulitzer prize-winning story about why he can’t be here on time. I’m tempted to remind him I pay HIM, but I don’t because I’M CHICKEN, full-on fried in Kentucky with mash for a brain. So I re-stuff my ears with my blue earphones (yes of course. In the grand scheme of things the colour of my bloody earphones is important) and let Damien Rice clink his champagne glass with mine . I also run through all the people in my life who have held me hostage and whom I’d like to … tandoor.

So I let myself sink into the aural tragedy of lost love mixed tenderly with a smoky tandoor and stomp around like a miniature Godzilla. I scowl at the passersby, failing to notice a vaguely familiar face giving me what looked at the time like a psychotic smile (I was feeling very vulnerable). I decide to ignore said madman only to realise catastrophically later that it had been none other than our company’s COO. So inside my head I try to imagine our next meeting  (which would  be never hopefully) and come up with a list of excuses that could make The Boss’s stories seem as realistic as those of Balzac. By the time MY car of seven years arrives with MY driver whom I pay, you would think my rage had simmered to the limpness of a bunch of zucchinis cooked for an hour, but no. No Sir! In a Grecian peripeteia of tragic proportions, I decide to be the passenger who finally kills the taxi driver (take that, bone collector)

But … I don’t because I’m still CHICKEN. So I just give him my carefully constructed, oft-practised death glare. The frowning actually begins to hurt after about a minute without a response from the frownee. So I let my eyebrows separate amicably.

This is when I decide to tandoor some veggies and a few sausages for dinner.

Hack the vegetables into biggish chunks – whatever you fancy is ok.
Marinate the vegetables and sausages in:
2 tbsp of yoghurt (hung curd is good)
Add 2tsp cumin (toasted and ground)
2tsp coriander powder
Crushed ginger and garlic (do it in a mortar and pestle)
Green chillies
Salt
Red paprika
Black pepper ground
Garam masala
Olive oil

Mix all of these together and leave aside for a about an hour, although I just didn’t have the time.

Preheat the oven to a 180 degree C, put the veggies/sausages in a greased baking dish, cover with aluminium foil and cook for 30mins, remove cover, check nothing’s sticking to the bottom and cook for another 15mins till everything looks crispy/slightly charred but not burnt. Say a prayer to Loretta Lockhorn and plate up. Add a slice of lemon and a green chilli to prettify.

Enjoy with flatbread/roti/paratha.