There is a narcotic element to coriander, best expressed by its scent. Strip the leaves from their stalks, chop them finely, then sniff your fingers, and that gorgeous scent, so vibrant with volatile oils, will shoot through your olfactory system. Coriander was known in Europe as "dizzycorn", a reference to its effect on the animals who ate it, for it is indeed narcotic if eaten in large quantities. When the plants are flowering the aroma is even more intense - "ravishing" is how Alice Waters describes it - and capturing that powerful scent is what we want to achieve in our cooking. In India, Pakistan and Afghanistan, both the leaves and the seeds are ubiquitous in cooking - indeed, coriander is known as "Afghan parsley" because it is so omnipresent in their cooking. Asian and Mexican cooks also make extensive use of the herb, while Chinese cooks also use it like parsley - it is likewise known as "Chinese parsley". Coriander leaves grow well in Ireland, especially early in the year when our days mimic the short days of the sub-continent. In high summer it tends to go quickly to seed.
You can use it with almost anything, and the subtle, insinuating scent will make even simple dishes more attractive. The other night I cooked some carrots in the fashion you use to glaze them - a mix of water, butter, sugar and salt - and as the carrots braised and the water reduced, I added a pinch of ground cumin. Then, just as the water disappeared and the glaze was complete, I showered the carrots with shredded coriander. But the dish I associate most with coriander is the classic Balti dish, chicken kharai, that sublime stew of spices, chicken, tomatoes and the coriander leaves scattered into the kharai pan just before it is brought to table. The reason is entirely personal, a nostalgic joy of the memory of eating chicken kharai in northern Pakistan in a roadside "hotel" there, many years ago. The "hotel" was little more than a roadside shack into which a tribe of us piled into one evening, and we all ate chicken kharai with gorgeous warm nan bread, and it was one of those unforgettable dishes we come upon in exceptional places. Baltistan, in northern Pakistan, became part of the country in 1947, and its kharai cooking has, of course, travelled throughout the world in recent times, though the technique of kharai - a form of stir-frying - is also used in southern India. But the Balti style of cooking is the one we know best, and here is a classic recipe for chicken kharai, from Mridula Baljekar's Real Balti Cookbook. This is the dish that inspired what we know today as Balti cooking. To make the ginger paste, take 225g (8oz) fresh root ginger and 30ml (two tablespoons) of any cooking oil. Peel the ginger, chop roughly and put into a blender with the oil and three tablespoons of water. Process until you have a smooth paste - it keeps fresh for up to two weeks in the fridge, and freezes well in airtight containers. For the garlic paste take 8-10 whole heads of garlic, separated into cloves and peeled, and process with 30 ml (two tablespoons) of any cooking oil - again, it freezes well, or keeps up to two weeks in the fridge. These two pastes are required for almost every Balti recipe. The colour of both pastes may change slightly if kept in the fridge, but this will not affect the flavour.
Kadhai Murgh (Karahi Chicken)
700g (1 1/2 lb) chicken thighs, skinned, boned and cut into 2.5cm (1 inch) cubes 10ml (2 teaspoons) ginger paste (see above) 10ml (2 teaspoons) garlic paste (see above) 75g (3 oz) natural yogurt 50g (2oz) ghee or unsalted butter 1 large onion, finely chopped 2.5ml (1/2 teaspoon) crushed, dried red chillies 5ml (1 teaspoon) ground turmeric 15ml (1 tablespoon) ground coriander 425g (15oz) canned chopped tomatoes with their juice 150ml (1/4 pint) warm water 5ml (1 teaspoon) salt, or to taste 10ml (2 teaspoons) dried fenugreek leaves (optional) 5ml (1 teaspoon) garam masala 30ml (2 tablespoons) chopped fresh coriander leaves 3-4 whole fresh green chillies
Put the chicken in a large mixing bowl and add half the ginger, half the garlic and all the yogurt. Stir and mix thoroughly, cover the bowl and leave to marinate for one to two hours. It can be left overnight in the refrigerator, but remove it 30 minutes before cooking.
Preheat a karahi, wok or frying pan over a medium heat and melt the ghee or butter; if using butter, take care not to overheat it. Add the onion and stir-fry for 8-10 minutes, until it begins to colour.
Add the crushed chillies and the remaining ginger and garlic, stir-fry for one minute, then add the turmeric and ground coriander and stir-fry for 30 seconds.
Add the tomatoes and cook for 6-8 minutes, or until the tomato juices have evaporated and the fat separates from the spice paste.
Add the chicken and increase the heat to high. Stir-fry for 4-5 minutes and add the warm water and salt. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 10-15 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened and the chicken is tender. Add the fenugreek leaves, garam masala, coriander leaves and fresh chillies. Cook for one to two minutes and serve.
The Real Balti Cookbook by Mridula Baljekar is published by Edbury Press, price £14.99 in the UK