My twist on this traditional Indian dish has juicy marinated BBQ chicken pieces and red lentils coated in a tomato-based sauce. This mild spiced curry is absolutely jam packed with flavour and is so easy to make you will be astounded.

I know it may sound crazy, but I’ve removed a lot of the butter and cream from this dish. I know, I know – sacrilege, right? But trust me on this one as it has 3 major benefits: 1. It reduces the calories, which means you can eat it more often and your waistline and heart will thank you.
2. It's less rich so you feel light after eating and 3. It lasts longer in the fridge so you can have an amazingly delicious meal later on in the week ready in mere minutes. Seriously, every time I’ve made this it gets absolutely demolished. It really is an absolute foolproof people pleaser. Perfect for a potluck dinner or weeknight wonder.
Did you know? In India there is no such thing as butter chicken: it’s called ‘Murgh Makhani’.
Legend has it one fateful evening back in 1947 in the aromatic depths of Delhi's Moti Mahal kitchen, a culinary masterpiece simmered to life. Chef Kundan Lal Jaggi, a maestro of spices, faced a dilemma: customers complained his tandoori chicken lacked succulence. Hurt by this he became determined and embarked on a flavour crusade. Inspired by the hues of the setting sun at dusk, he melded ripe tomatoes, velvety cream, and golden butter with a secret masala blend and created a mesmerising sauce. Thus, Murgh Makhani was born, a dish woven with the ingenuity of a passionate chef. The first bite tantalised the taste buds, silenced the critics and a legend was etched in India's gastronomic saga. Each velvety mouthful whispered the story of Chef Jaggi's brilliance, transforming a kitchen conundrum into an explosion of flavours now cherished around the world.
Chef Dylan’s tips: The secret to this dish is marinating the chicken thigh for at least a couple of hours, or even better, overnight before grilling on the BBQ. It gives the dish the most amazing flavour and is a perfect excuse to get the blokes to fire up the grill. Making the sauce takes no time at all and then all you have to do is let it simmer away on low allowing all the spices to meld into a harmonious symphony
of flavour.
Kathmandu, Nepal – 2011
The worn leather strap presses deeply into my palm, a lifeline in this rattling tin can as we hurtle over potholes. Each bump sends shockwaves through my body, making my sandpaper-dry throat ache even more. I attempt a gulp, but my mouth is devoid of moisture, the arid desert within me demanding sustenance. Slowly, I breathe in through my nose, only to be met with a noxious odour. A blend of human sweat, unwashed hair, and the pungency of feet, reminiscent of ripe blue cheese. A wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm me, and I turn to my love, desperation etched on my face. "Any water left?" I plead. Her eyes, dark and sympathetic, mirror my desperation as she shakes her head, the cruel truth evident in her gaze.
Peering through the grimy window, distant lights flicker in a polluted night sky like twinkling stars. The bus shudders to a stop and we spill out onto the street. The feeble glow of headlights from passing cars is our only source of light, electricity out due to load shedding. My fingers fumble inside my bag, retrieving a mud map of a hotel’s address hastily drawn in last night's internet cafe. The idea of pulling out my phone feels risky, a beacon in the darkness that might attract unwanted attention. A voice, soft yet insistent, pierces the ambient noise. "You need a hotel, sir?" Spoken from a young man no older than twenty, sporting a kind smile and earnest eyes. "My uncle runs a hotel only 5 minutes’ walk," he adds, his finger tracing a route on my map. "No, we're fine," I say, but his persistence wears down my defences. "Alright, let's see,"
I say, glancing at my weary companion. She rolls her eyes, exhaustion written all over her face.
We manoeuvre through the sluggish, stop-start traffic, following the guide like lost souls seeking refuge. The crumbling facade of a five-story building emerges from the darkness. The moment we step into what passes for a 'foyer,' the acrid stench of urine slaps me in the face, a rude awakening in the pitch-black surroundings. "Candle?" the boy offers, "No," I snap, refusing to endure this nightmare any longer. “We can't stay here," I declare firmly, "Yes, yes, upstairs, room upstairs," he stammers, but my resolve is unyielding. "No," I retort, adamant in my decision. He deflates, his eyes pleading, but I remain resolute. "We're leaving," I assert, and we swiftly retreat back into the uncertain night.
Fortunately, I quickly flag down a passing taxi. "Can you take us here?" I point at the map, my finger hovering over our intended destination. The elderly driver, his face etched with the wisdom of years, nods understandingly. "How much?" I inquire, prepared for the customary haggling. "500 rupees," he replies, I calculate about 5 bucks, a fair price for our deliverance. I nod, relief flooding my senses as we pile our bags into the worn interior. In the safety of the taxi, I exhale deeply, meeting my love's gaze. "We totally dodged a bullet," I say, promising that such blind trust won't happen again. Her anger softens as she nods slightly. "Let me make it up to you. Makhani's on me tonight”. A faint smile flickers across her face. Grateful, sensing her understanding, I whisper cheekily, "Lucky you love me”.
As the ordeal swiftly fades into memory, I’m happy with the promise of a safe bed and the comfort of a warm meal that awaits us at the end of this arduous day’s journey.
Prep Time 15 mins Cook Time 80 mins Serves 4/6
Ingredients
Marinade
·      1kg chicken thigh, cut into 3cm chunks
·      2x tbs butter chicken curry paste (I use Maharajah’s Choice)
·      3x tbs oil
·      1x tbs salt
·      1x tbs pepper
Sauce
·      1x small brown onion, diced
·      4x cloves garlic, diced
·      1x tbs butter
·      2 x tbs oil
·      1x tbs butter chicken curry paste
·      1x tbs tomato paste
·      1x tinned tomato crushed
·      1x ltr chicken stock
·      1/2 cup red lentils
·      1x tbs sour cream 
Method
1.    In a large bowl mix all the marinade ingredients together to form a paste, add the diced chicken pieces and coat well. Leave to marinate on the bench for a couple of hours or overnight in the fridge.
2.    Heat a large frypan or saucepan on medium heat and add oil and butter, as the butter froths add in the onion and sizzle. Add garlic and cook until fragrant.
3.    Turn down to low and add curry paste then cook for ~1min, be sure to stir to stop any paste catching on the bottom. Cook until it smells amazing then add tomato paste and cook for ~2 mins stirring.
4.    Turn heat up to medium and add the stock and stir to combine. Bring to a simmer.
5.    Turn heat to low and simmer for about
an hour.
6.    Add red lentils and stir in. Cook stirring every now and then for ~10mins until the lentils start to soften then add sour cream and stir to mix through.
7.    Heat BBQ to medium heat and grill chicken on both sides until cooked through.
8.    Add cooked chicken to sauce and simmer for ~10 mins. Taste and season if necessary (it should taste a little salty as the rice will dilute the flavour)
9.    Garnish with a little coriander and some fresh chilli for those who like a bit of kick.
10. Cook rice and serve hot.