Selected Recipes from Niloufer Ichaporia King's My Bombay Kitchen

4. Chicken with Apricots / Jardalu ma Marghi


Jardalu ma Marghi

Jardalu ma marghi is one of those fruit-and-meat dishes that reach far back into ancient Parsi culinary history, long before the migration to India. The starring ingredient in this royal dish is a type of apricot that comes to us from central Asia. Its scientific name is the same as for other apricots, Prunus armeniaca, so the only way we can distinguish a jardalu from the rest is to call it a Hunza apricot, as they do in Britain, or a jardalu in Gujarati. The Hindi/Urdu word, zardalu, means “yellow plum.” Niggling matters of nomenclature aside, this homely, wrinkled little dried fruit is truly regal in its taste.

Since it belongs to the category of sweet-kernel apricots, it contains a surprise. Crack the pit and you get a tiny nut that’s indescribably delicious, well worth the effort to get at it. Carefully remove the pits from the poached jardalus when they are cool enough to handle. Abandon the project if you have a batch that refuses to let go of the pits, but even a few for people to taste—my husband, David’s, “discovery amount”—can be a revelation. Put the pits in a single layer between two dish towels or double layers of paper towel. Bash them gently with a rubber mallet to break the pits. You’ll get the hang of it after the first two or three. Save all the kernels and strew them on the dish before it gets to the table, or if you’re serving individual plates, give each person at least one. This is a good project to give to a child because it’s a really important contribution.

Madeira or cream sherry adds a wonderful finishing touch right at the end. Serve with fried potatoes or Angel-Hair Potatoes or a rice and quinoa pilaf and something green. The variation that follows makes a lovely festive autumn dinner. Serves 6


Jardalu kernels

1/2 to 3/4 pound jardalus (1 1/2 to 2 cups)
1/2 to 3/4 cup granulated sugar
6 to 8 chicken thighs
2 teaspoons Ginger-Garlic Paste
2 to 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
3 dried red chiles
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
2 (2-inch-long) sticks cinnamon or cassia
5 whole cloves
3 cardamom pods
1 large onion, very thinly sliced
Salt to taste
1/4 cup Madeira (Malmsey) or cream sherry

Rinse the jardalus. Combine the sugar with 1 to 1 1/2 cups hot water and stir to dissolve the sugar. Pour this over the jardalus and add enough additional water to come a couple of inches above them. Stir to combine. Let the jardalus soak for a few hours or overnight.

Put the jardalus and their liquid in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and cook the jardalus, uncovered, until they darken and plump up. Some people just soak the jardalus, but I think they need cooking to release their full flavor. Do not pit them.

Sear the chicken in a heavy skillet over high heat until the thighs are browned and have rendered their excess fat. Coat them with the paste and set aside at least 30 minutes.


Jardalu ma Marghi

Heat the oil in the same skillet. Add the chiles, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom and sizzle until the aroma rises and the chiles look toasted. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until it softens. Add the chicken. Combine well with the onion and spices. Add enough water and jardalu poaching liquid to cover. Add salt to taste. Bring to a boil; reduce the heat, cover, and simmer until the chicken is tender, about 30 minutes. Check for salt and sugar. Finish with the Madeira.

Add the jardalus only when you’re ready to serve so they don’t break up before you present the dish. Pit them and remove the kernels, if you like.


Sue's Comments on the Recipe

Can anyone resist the deep, satisfying taste of cooked jardalu? Paired with dark chicken thigh meat, it is a marriage made in heaven. I chose to make this dish as it is one that retains definite links to a Persian past. The apricots I used are not strictly speaking jardalu (Hunza apricots) as I didn’t have any to hand at the time. They are similar tasting dried apricots without preservatives, of the kind available here, and are dark brown rather than the usual bright orange. Being already moist, they didn’t require soaking.

The result was very good indeed, and will appeal to those who appreciate flavour and subtlety, without an overpowering masala taste. Easy to make, as were most of the recipes tried.

Next: Mother’s Wobbly Cauliflower Custard.