Bombay Chicken — When You Catch the Curry Bug and Can’t Stop

The Thai curry happened. Lily and I spent Saturday afternoon learning to make green curry paste from scratch. Not from a jar — from scratch. The real thing. This required a trip to the Asian market for ingredients I don't usually buy: green chilies, galangal, kaffir lime leaves, coriander root, lemongrass (this one I had), shrimp paste, cumin seeds. The paste is made in a mortar and pestle — you pound everything together until it becomes a fragrant, vibrant green paste that smells like a Thai kitchen exploded. Lily did the pounding. She's small but fierce. She pounded that paste for twenty minutes with the focus of someone defusing a bomb. The mortar and pestle work is the critical step — a food processor gets you 70% there, but the mortar gets the oils out of the herbs in a way that blending can't replicate. The curry itself: chicken thighs, coconut milk, bamboo shoots, Thai eggplant (which we substituted with regular eggplant because the market didn't have Thai), basil, palm sugar, fish sauce. The paste goes into hot coconut cream first — you fry it until the oil separates and the kitchen smells like heaven's waiting room. Then the protein, then the rest of the coconut milk, then the vegetables, then the seasoning. The result was legitimately good. Not restaurant-level — the paste needed more chili and the coconut milk was a touch too sweet — but for a first attempt, by a forty-four-year-old BBQ guy and his twelve-year-old daughter, it was a win. Lily tasted it and said, "It needs more lime." She's been hanging around Ma too long. The lime instinct is inherited through osmosis. Tyler ate his bowl and said, "When did you guys start making Thai food?" I said, "Today." He said, "Not bad for today." High praise from a seventeen-year-old. Emma tasted it, nodded, and said, "The paste could be finer." She's right. Next time we'll pound longer. Saturday pho at Ma's was the palate cleanser. I told Ma we made Thai curry. She said, "Thai food is fine. Vietnamese food is better." She's wrong about this, but she's my mother and she's seventy-two and she's earned the right to be wrong about one thing.

Making that green curry paste from scratch — every pound of the mortar, every whiff of galangal and kaffir lime — made it clear that the spiced-chicken universe is enormous, and we’ve barely touched the edge of it. Bombay Chicken felt like the natural next move: same spirit of bold aromatics and layered flavor, but a different tradition to learn from. If Lily’s ready to pound paste for twenty minutes, she’s ready for this one too.

Bombay Chicken

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 1 large yellow onion, finely diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
• 1/2 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
• 1/2 cup chicken broth
• 1 1/2 teaspoons garam masala
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon ground coriander
• 1 teaspoon turmeric
• 1/2 teaspoon chili powder (or more to taste)
• 1/2 teaspoon paprika
• 1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
• Fresh cilantro, chopped, for serving
• Lime wedges, for serving
• Cooked basmati rice, for serving

Instructions

1. Season the chicken. Pat chicken thighs dry with paper towels. In a small bowl, combine garam masala, cumin, coriander, turmeric, chili powder, paprika, and 1 teaspoon salt. Rub half the spice mixture all over the chicken pieces and let sit at room temperature for 10 minutes.
2. Sear the chicken. Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sear chicken thighs skin-side down for 5–6 minutes until deep golden brown. Flip and sear the other side for 3 minutes. Transfer chicken to a plate — it does not need to be cooked through yet.
3. Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. In the same pan, add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 6–8 minutes until softened and beginning to caramelize. Add the garlic and ginger and cook for 1 minute until fragrant. Stir in the remaining spice mixture and cook for 30 seconds, stirring constantly, until the spices bloom and become very fragrant.
4. Add the tomatoes. Pour in the diced tomatoes with their juices and stir to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Simmer for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes break down and the sauce thickens slightly.
5. Finish the sauce. Reduce heat to low. Stir in the yogurt one spoonful at a time to prevent curdling, then add the chicken broth. Stir until the sauce is smooth and uniform.
6. Braise the chicken. Return the seared chicken thighs to the pan, nestling them into the sauce. Spoon sauce over the top. Cover and simmer over low heat for 20–22 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and reads 165°F internally. Taste the sauce and adjust salt and chili powder as needed.
7. Serve. Plate chicken over basmati rice. Spoon sauce generously over the top. Finish with fresh cilantro and a squeeze of lime — don’t skip the lime.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 36g | Fat: 24g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 680mg