Chicken Malai Handi So Good You’ll Cancel Takeout

No joke—I had the mildest case of COVID two weeks ago, and suddenly I’m wheezing and limping around like a Victorian ghost in yoga pants, trying not to laugh because apparently humor is now a full-contact sport.

Now, I didn’t have arm pain, jaw pain, I wasn’t sweating like I just ran up Castle Rock Trail in July. I was pretty sure I was not having a heart attack. But my health insurance’s 24/7 nursing line? Oh, they were not playing around. “Ma’am, you need to go to the ER immediately.”

Immediately?? Okay, give me a second to find pants and remove this twenty-five-pound Norwegian Forest Cat from my lap—because nothing says medical emergency like being pinned down by a furry dictator named Leo.

To be fair, I had been inhaling a concerning amount of Indian food. Ghee? Yes. Butter Chicken? Possibly by the vat. Was I having a heart episode… or just living my best Anglo-Indian food blogger life? To be fair, anyone who inhales ghee-soaked Indian food the way I do should know where the closest ER is located.

And of course, in true 2026 fashion, your brain immediately spirals into a full Google-MD meltdown: “How many otherwise healthy women are suddenly having heart issues these days?”

Because let’s be honest—over the past few years, we’ve all heard something. I’m not trying to sound like RFK JR here, but let’s face it, we all have that one super healthy athletic friend who all of a sudden has a heart condition at 45. A headline here, a TikTok there and suddenly you’re lying in bed at 2 a.m. conducting your own completely unlicensed epidemiological study.

But in that moment, you’re thinking, “This is it. This is how I go. Not in a glamorous way. Not even doing something cool. Just… existing. Possibly after Butter Chicken.”

The good news? After a full ER deep dive, I am—apparently—extremely healthy.

The less fun news? I need a blood transfusion. But that’s a dramatic subplot for another blog post.

Acute anemia aside, my heart is strong enough to return to my true calling: aggressively flavorful Indian cooking at 7,000 feet like some kind of spice-obsessed mountain gremlin.

Chicken Malai Handi… But Make It Big Bear

Traditionally, Chicken Malai Handi or any Chicken Korma recipe is a rich, creamy North Indian or Pakistani dish, slow-cooked in a clay pot until everything is luscious and mildly indulgent in that “yes, this has three kinds of cream and I regret nothing” kind of way.

But here in Big Bear Lake, we improvise. There is no clay pot tandoori oven. There is a Dutch oven and at least one Catahoula Louisiana Fur Monster judging you while you cook.

And because I like to stir the pot (emotionally and culinarily), I give this dish a little Southern Indian twist by using coconut oil instead of traditional fats. It adds depth, a hint of sweetness, and just enough personality to make aunties nervous. Listen, I may live in the mountains, but my spice cabinet is elite.

We’re talking multiple chili varieties, whole spices, backups of backups—basically enough to make any visiting videshi (foreigner) question their life choices.

Now, let’s address the chili situation, because this is where people—especially the firangi crowd—get confused.

An Authentic Chicken Korma recipe Without Booking a Flight to Delhi

When it comes to creating that authentic Chicken Korma recipe, Kashmiri chilies are famous for their vibrant red color and deep flavor—but let’s be clear: They are not here to ruin your life.

They’re grown at higher elevations, where the climate is cooler, so they don’t develop the same aggressive heat you get from chilies grown in the sweltering central valleys of India.

Translation:
Kashmiri chilies = color + flavor

This is why I recommend using a blend of Kashmiri chilies and Chinese dried red chilies in this dish.

Because if you’re going to cook like a boss, you need:

• Kashmiri chilies for that rich, Instagram-worthy red color
• Chinese red chilies for the heat that makes you question your decisions

Balance. Harmony. Mild panic.

Cooking for Videshi, Firangi, and the Occasional Gora

Let’s talk terminology, because if you’ve ever cooked Indian food for a mixed crowd, you know the vibe.

• Videshi = A polite, formal way to say foreigner. Yes, we can see your Lone Pine State tramp stamp, Casey
• Firangi = A casual, slightly sarcastic word for a foreigner, often with a light nod to Western/British vibes
• Pardesi = Means outsider or someone from another place. Indian version of Flatlander.
• Gora = Or gringo, we all know what this means..

Now, when I say this dish works for everyone, I mean:

• Kashmiri chili version → perfect for the “I love flavor but not suffering” videshi
• Chili blend version → for the firangi who said, “I can handle spice” and now regrets everything

  

• Full heat version → for that one uncle who eats raw chilies like snacks and judges you silently

Chicken Korma So Good It Deserves Its Own Visa

Here in Big Bear Lake, California, we are not delicately tending clay pots over open flames like culinary poets.

We are:

• Cooking in a Dutch oven
• Possibly outside on a barbecue side burner
• Wearing a hoodie in April because it’s still somehow 45 degrees in the shade

And on those rare 75-degree April afternoons? Oh, you better believe I’m outside, cooking this creamy, spicy masterpiece while soaking up exactly two hours of sunshine like a lizard with a food blog.

The pets are stretched out, soaking up that Vitamin D. The air smells like coconut oil and toasted spices. And I’m standing there, stirring a Dutch oven full of Chicken Malai Handi, thinking: “This is either healing my soul… or sending me back to the ER. Honestly, it’s a coin toss.”

 (Before the Next Medical Episode)

So if you find yourself clutching your chest in 2026, wondering if it’s COVID, the vaccine, anemia, or just the emotional impact of a properly spiced curry…Maybe just sit down, hydrate, and ask yourself one important question:

Did I use enough Kashmiri chili… or did I accidentally go full firangi confidence with the Chinese reds?

Because one gives you flavor.
The other gives you Curry Bum.