Chicken Korma

A royal braise that became a family meal

Korma, or qorma, comes from a word for braising, and the style belongs to the Mughlai kitchens of North India, particularly Delhi and Lucknow. The meat cooks gently in yoghurt and its own juices, with fried onions and nuts giving body, and with fragrance coming from whole spices in place of heavy chilli heat. Mutton is the older and more traditional meat; chicken is the version most homes cook today, usually for guests or a Sunday meal.

This is the browned-onion North Indian korma. It is a different dish from a South Indian kurma, which usually relies on coconut, as in this Chettinad vegetable kurma, and from the mild, sweet, cream-laden sauce that often goes by the name in restaurants abroad. For a vegetarian relation in the same family, try navratan korma.

Browning the onions properly

Birista, the fried onions used across Mughlai cooking, is what separates a good korma from an ordinary gravy. Slice the onions evenly, because thin slivers burn while thick ones are still pale. Medium heat is the correct setting for most of the time. Early on they steam and go soft, and you can step away for a minute; once they start to turn straw coloured, stay by the pan and keep them moving, because the last two minutes go quickly.

Stop at an even golden brown, the colour of a well-baked biscuit, and take them out with a little colour still to gain, since they keep cooking from their own heat on the plate. If any have gone truly black, throw out the batch. A burnt onion paste cannot be hidden by anything, and starting again costs you three onions and saves a whole pot of chicken.

Keeping the yoghurt from splitting

Curd splits when it hits a very hot pan, leaving small white flecks in a thin sauce. Three simple habits prevent it. Bring the curd to room temperature, whisk it smooth, and add it in spoonfuls off the heat. Keep the pot at a gentle bubble and never a hard boil from then on. Full-fat curd is much more stable than low-fat, and the almond paste helps to hold the sauce together.

If it does split, the taste is fine and only the look suffers. Take the chicken out, blend the sauce with a stick blender or in a mixer jar with one more spoonful of almond paste, and return it all to low heat. No guest will notice.

Other things that can go wrong

A thin gravy just needs more time with the lid off. A gravy that tastes sour usually means curd that was already old; a little more onion paste or a pinch of sugar rounds it out. If the sauce catches on the base of the pan, pour the contents into a clean pot without scraping, and keep the heat lower. Kewra is strong, so measure it, and leave it out altogether rather than guess.

Substitutions and a lighter version

Cashews can replace almonds, giving a slightly sweeter and paler sauce, and in a nut allergy a spoon of roasted, ground melon seeds (magaz) gives similar body if those are safe for you. Boneless thigh works if bone-in is not to hand; reduce the covered cooking to 15 minutes. Mutton is excellent but needs far longer, about 90 minutes on low heat or 20 minutes in a pressure cooker before you finish the gravy uncovered.

For a lighter pot, use three tablespoons of fat, drain the onions well on a rack, and keep the almonds at ten. Use whole-milk curd in any case, because low-fat curd is the one saving that tends to ruin the sauce. More about how much protein the bird itself supplies is on this guide to chicken, and sourced serving figures are on the chicken korma dish page.

Serving, storing and reheating

Korma is at its best with naan or tandoori roti to scoop the gravy, or a plain jeera rice that leaves the spice alone. Sliced raw onion with lemon and a cucumber salad cut the richness. A sharp vegetable side does more for this meal than another heavy curry.

The flavour improves overnight. Cool the korma and refrigerate it within two hours, and eat it within three days, or freeze it for up to a month. Reheat gently on low heat with a splash of water, stirring until steaming hot all the way through, since a hard boil at this stage is what splits the yoghurt.