Hello from a bridge somewhere between Kerala and Karnataka. I’m writing this from a train, where I’ve just had my customary cup of watery coffee served by one of the pantry staff who walk around chanting ‘kwaffee kool drinks lays’ in that solemn, baritone voice that seems to be a requisite for being a pantry staff. I’m sitting here looking out the window as rice fields and thatched roofs and dried-up river beds zip past; I even have a cookie to munch on that I sneaked out of a box I’d baked for my family, and really, life is good. Although it may seem like I’m about to tell you about this wonderful cookie that warrants theft, I’m actually here to tell you about a recipe that’s even better- schnitzel. And not just any schnitzel, a tandoori schnitzel.

I’ll have another cookie while I wait for you pick your jaw off the floor.

This wonderful word that tends to get stuck in your head, (and which to my ear sounds like something between a swear word and a brand of toothpaste) has humble beginnings in our household. Mum and I were home alone one evening, and after a day of making pastry we were beat, and in need of a meal that would be easy and filling. Enter, a couple of chicken breasts, a cup of buttermilk, breadcrumbs, mustard and eggs. What resulted was the most unexpectedly delicious meals I’ve eaten. For the uninitiated, a schnitzel is simply a fillet of meat that gets pounded to within an inch of is life with a mallet, (or a rolling pin if you don’t have a mallet, or a pan if you don’t have a rolling pin), and then crumb fried to the perfect shade of crisp.

The second time we made schnitzel, we wanted to jazz it up a little bit and I said ‘why don’t we use some tandoori masala?’, and because neither of us could think of why we shouldn’t, we did. And I’m so glad we did. Although I have nothing against a traditional schnitzel, I think our version with tandoori masala is a winner. Served with the cool mint chutney, this dish lives upto its name- a little odd and wholly likeable.