Tag: Shamiana Restaurant

Okay, so I know my last posts promised some musings on the nature of democracy and human rights. I might come back to that at some point… but I need to accept that my ADHD brain will only write about what it wants, when it wants. And this is my blog, so I will treat it as only a 90s kid could treat a blog and write about whatever takes my fancy.

So here’s what’s on my mind right now.

In the latter years of the 1990s, I was an undergrad at Seattle University, where I met my very first serious boyfriend, Mike. Mike was very geeky – which is just how I like my men – and he loved introducing me to new geeky TV shows and movies.

One of these was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I’d seen the underwhelming movie and I scoffed at the name … but damn, that was a good show. New episodes of Buffy aired on Tuesdays, which became our non-negotiable weekly date night so we could watch it together.

Mike also liked introducing me to new foods.

I wasn’t completely unfamiliar with Indian food before Mike. My first best friend when I was very young was my grandma’s best friend’s son, and his family was from India. We’d go round to their house and his mum would make amazing food for us – which was, unfortunately, way too spicy for me at 8 years old. I rejected the beautiful spicy dahl and mostly ate chapati with butter and sugar on it.

I didn’t come to really appreciate Indian food until Mike reintroduced me to it.

There was a restaurant near his house called Shamiana, founded by a brother and sister who were American but had grown up in what was then East Pakistan. So calling it an Indian restaurant probably isn’t quite right; the food drew on influences from across the subcontinent and beyond. And in any case, I’ve since moved to the UK, where “Indian food” is an entirely different beast.

I’ve since learned that Shamiana was basically one of a kind. It had the flavours of the subcontinent, but the menu featured dishes the owners had essentially come up with themselves.

One of the most famous was Major Grey Chicken Curry, a glorious concoction of mango chutney, curry powder and cream. The owners generously shared the recipe in the cooking classes they hosted, and I still have it. I’ve had friends I’ve otherwise lost touch with get back in touch only to ask me for the Major Grey recipe (and then never be heard from again).

It’s that good.

But my favourite dish was Shamiana Chicken. Every week on Buffy night, Mike and I would go to that restaurant first and that’s the dish I’d order every time.

It was tangy and fresh, a bright yellow colour, and made with coconut milk. I guess it was sort of like a korma, but it had way more flavour than your typical takeaway korma. I’ve been missing Shamiana Chicken lately, so I decided to go on an internet hunt for the recipe.

Sadly, my searches came up blank. Shamiana closed in 2019, and if they ever featured Shamiana Chicken in one of their cooking classes, it wasn’t one I attended.

And here’s where I get to brag, because I refused to give up.

I brought up ChatGPT and explained the story of Shamiana Chicken to it. I uploaded pictures of the printed recipes I still have from the cooking class Mike and I took in 1999.

ChatGPT went digging and found an old Shamiana menu preserved in a random corner of the internet, which described the sauce as a “zippy masala, lemon and coconut sauce with green onions and fresh coriander.”

That was our first proper clue.

More internet archaeology eventually turned up an old magazine article about Shamiana, complete with a photograph of a suspiciously familiar-looking yellow coconut curry and a reference to a recipe the owners had contributed to Bon Appétit. That recipe still survives online: prawns in a spiced masala and coconut milk sauce.

So we had my memories of the dish, Shamiana’s own description of it, my original cooking class recipes, and another recipe published by the restaurant’s owners. ChatGPT pulled all of that together and gave me its best guess at the missing Shamiana Chicken.

Tonight I made Shamiana-ish Chicken.

And that was it.

That was the dish.

Or, at least, close enough that I knew immediately what I was tasting. My 14-year-old son asked for seconds, which is a very rare occurrence and perhaps the strongest possible endorsement.

So I wanted to put my version of Shamiana Chicken on the internet, because as far as I can tell there isn’t an obvious surviving recipe for it anywhere else. I don’t want to pretend this is the original Shamiana recipe. It almost certainly isn’t. It’s a reconstruction from the bits and pieces that survived.

But the smell alone was enough to bring back memories of witty Buffy quips, the smell of Mike’s cologne, and a time in my life without which I wouldn’t be who I am today.

Mike died in 2020, far too young. Not long before he died, he was the one who told me Shamiana had closed.

Although we’d gone our separate ways in 2001, we’d kept in touch over the years. After he died, his family entrusted me with the manuscript of a novel he’d spent years writing, and I promised them I would edit it and try to find a way to get it published.

It’s taking me much longer than I ever imagined.

Partly that’s because every time I open those files, I find myself transported back to being 20 years old: to the remembrance of first love, and to the sadness of knowing that Mike’s life was cut short far too soon. Working on his book means spending time with his words again, and sometimes that’s wonderful and sometimes it’s hard.

So perhaps that explains why, 27 years later, I suddenly wanted so badly to taste Shamiana Chicken again.

And yes, I realise I’ve now done exactly the thing everyone makes fun of recipe bloggers for doing: making you read an extremely long personal story before you’re allowed to find out how much curry powder to put in the pan.

But there’s nothing quite like food for remembering the chapters of our lives.

So here it is.

Mike’s Shamiana(ish) Chicken

This is not the original Shamiana recipe. It’s my reconstruction based on my memories of the dish, Shamiana’s archived menu description, recipes from a cooking class I took there in 1999, and another coconut masala recipe published by Shamiana’s owners. The first attempt tasted remarkably close – although I learned the hard way that “zippy” does not mean “squeeze a whole lemon into it.”

Serves 3–4

Ingredients

• 600g boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into bite-sized pieces
• 2 tbsp vegetable oil, plus a little extra for cooking the chicken
• 2 medium onions, finely diced
• 4 garlic cloves, finely chopped or crushed
• 1 tbsp grated fresh ginger
• 1 green finger chilli, finely chopped
• 2 heaped tsp mild curry powder
• 1.5 tsp ground coriander
• 1 tsp turmeric
• 1 tsp garam masala
• 0.5 tsp cayenne pepper
• 150ml full-fat Greek yoghurt
• 400ml full-fat coconut milk
• 1 tsp salt, plus more to taste
• 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice, plus more if needed
• 4 spring onions, green parts only, thinly sliced
• A large handful of fresh coriander, roughly chopped

Method

1. Heat 2 tbsp vegetable oil in a large pan over a medium-low heat. Add the onions and cook gently for 10–15 minutes, until very soft and lightly golden but not deeply browned.
2. Add the garlic, ginger and green chilli and cook for another 2 minutes.
3. Add the curry powder, ground coriander, turmeric, garam masala and cayenne. Stir continuously for 1–2 minutes, until fragrant.
4. Turn the heat down low. Add the yoghurt a spoonful at a time, stirring each addition thoroughly into the masala before adding the next.
5. Pour in the coconut milk and add 1 tsp salt. Bring to a very gentle simmer and cook uncovered for 10 minutes.
6. Meanwhile, heat a little vegetable oil in a separate frying pan. Add the chicken thighs and sauté for 4–5 minutes. You only want to give them a little colour and partially cook them at this stage.
7. Add the chicken to the sauce and simmer gently, uncovered, for 12–15 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through.
8. Remove the pan from the heat. Stir in 1 tbsp lemon juice, most of the spring onions and most of the fresh coriander.
9. Taste before doing anything else. Add more salt if needed. If it needs more tang, add additional lemon juice one teaspoon at a time, tasting between additions. You want it fresh and slightly tangy, not sour. If it’s too hot or too sour, add more coconut milk or a few spoons of double cream.
10. Scatter over the remaining spring onions and coriander and serve with basmati rice.

If you like it hotter

This version is deliberately family-friendly. The Shamiana Chicken I remember had a proper kick to it.

For something closer to that, use 2–3 green finger chillies and increase the cayenne to 1 tsp.

Did you know Shamiana? If you ate at the Kirkland or Ravenna restaurants, attended one of their cooking classes, or still have any of their old recipes tucked away somewhere, please leave a comment or get in touch. I’d especially love to know if anyone has the original recipe for Shamiana Chicken.