Let Me Tell You About Chicken and Chickpea Curry

Alright, so here’s the thing: this Chicken and Chickpea Curry has been my lazy evening favorite ever since my mate Raj (well, mate is a stretch—we mostly bumped into each other in the grocery store buying the same cheap curry powder) introduced me to the idea. I still remember the first time, I made it on a Wednesday when I was half-asleep and nearly dumped cinnamon instead of cumin in. Tiny disasters, big flavours. Anyway, if you’ve ever needed something hearty and unfussy, with enough leftovers to sneak a bowl at midnight, this is it.

And look, I’m not pretending this is some ancient family secret. It’s more like my own invention born from overcooked rice and an accidental can of chickpeas taking up real estate in the pantry. But oh man, it’s delicious.

Why You’ll Love This (Or Why I Keep Making It)

I break this one out when I’ve got hangry kids and a fridge that’s embarrassingly empty. Or, honestly, when I just want to eat curry and watch old reruns of Bake Off. My family goes a bit mad for it, especially when I crank up the spice—though they’d probably riot if there’s no naan. Plus, it’s mostly just chuck-it-in-the-pot stuff (less mess to clean up, you know), and if you forget an ingredient, you can usually fudge it. I used to stress about getting every spice in order. Now? It’s curry—not rocket science.

Gather Your Ingredients (Substitution Zone!)

500g (a pound-ish) chicken thighs, boneless and skinless (sometimes I use breast if on sale, but thighs stay juicier; my neighbour swears by drumsticks, but bones just slow me down)
1 can chickpeas (400g/15oz, rinsed)—I’ve used kidney beans in a pinch and nobody complained
1 large onion, chopped roughly—red or yellow, whatever’s looking less sprouty
3 cloves garlic, minced (my mum insists on garlic paste; powder does work if you’re in a hurry)
1 thumb of ginger, grated—absolutely optional, but it does a little magic
2 tbsp curry powder—I usually go heavy on this, but adjust as you like; I’ve even used garam masala when I ran out
1 tsp ground cumin (this is the one I forgot last time and it was still edible!)
1 tsp paprika or chilli powder—your call, sometimes I use both ‘cos why not?
400g can chopped tomatoes—fresh tomatoes if you’ve got them, but who does in February?
200ml coconut milk—full fat is best, but I’ve used yoghurt, or even a splash of cream, and it does the trick
Salt & pepper, to taste
Handful fresh coriander, to finish (or leave it out if you’re one of those get-soapy-taste folks!)

How To Make It: My Way (With a Few Detours)

Start by getting your biggest, heaviest pan on the go. If you’ve only got a regular saucepan, that’ll do—just keep an eye for splashing.
Bit of oil (maybe a tablespoon, or a good glug—use what you’ve got: olive, veg, whatever) goes in, heat it medium-high, chuck in the onions. I never fuss about perfectly even bits. Fry till they’re floppy and golden (this is when the kitchen starts to smell a bit like a curry house—yum).
Drop in the garlic and ginger, stir, let it get fragrant (don’t wander off here; burned garlic is not your friend).
Straight in with your spices—curry powder, cumin, and paprika or chilli. Let that all fry for about a minute so the spices get a little toast, but if it looks like it’s catching, pour in a splash of water. Don’t panic if the pan looks a bit brown—it’ll sort itself out in the next step!
Add the chicken, chopped into biggish bite-sized chunks. Give it all a proper mix so it’s coated. I usually season with salt and pepper now.
Pour in your tomatoes. Sometimes I squish in a fresh one or two if they’re languishing—extra veg, why not. Stir again, then pop a lid on (or some tin foil if, like me, you forever misplace lids) and let it simmer gently for about 15 mins. Peek in every now and then and give it a nudge.
Now, in go the chickpeas. I drain and rinse, but occasionally forget and it’s…fine. Stir, then add the coconut milk. Yum. Simmer with the lid off for another 10-15 mins until the chicken’s cooked and the sauce has thickened up to your liking. This is when I usually sneak a double taste, you know, just for quality control.
If you’re feeling posh, scatter on coriander at the end (I love it, personally; but my brother says it ruins everything!). Serve hot.

Stuff I’ve Learned the Hard Way

Adding the coconut milk too early thins the curry too much. Seriously, wait till the end.
If your curry looks too watery, turn up the heat; it’ll reduce. But keep an eye so it doesn’t catch—once, I went off to fold laundry and came back to a scorched pan. Oops.
Fresh ginger is brighter, but pre-grated stuff from a tube is perfectly fine (and so much less faff).

Variations I’ve Actually Tried—and One not so Great

Swapped chicken for paneer and, honestly, I loved it even more (don’t tell the others!).
I tried lamb once—too greasy for my taste, but maybe with leaner cuts it’s fine?
Added spinach right at the end a couple of times for a bit of green; that worked surprising well.
Quinoa instead of rice as a base was…uh, let’s just say, I wouldn’t do that again.

Equipment: Use What You’ve Got (Within Reason)

If you’ve got a heavy-bottomed pot, brilliant; if not, just use any big pan. No lid? I just whack on a baking tray or even foil—improvising is half the battle. You don’t need a fancy knife either; I’ve used a paring knife in a pinch and survived (though if you have a food processor, blitzing onions is a joy!).

Storing Leftovers—If You Actually Have Any

This keeps in the fridge for a couple of days, though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day. The flavours get deeper overnight so if you can resist, do that. Freezes fine too—I shove mine in recycled takeaway tubs. More details on safe chilling here at FoodSafety.gov if you like being properly careful.

How We Serve It (And Sometimes Argue About It)

I’m a rice person, so basmati it is (sometimes, I splash out and make homemade naan, but that’s only when I’m feeling ambitious). My cousin always has mango chutney on the side—go figure. And, weirdly, my daughter wants a bit of pickled onion alongside. Family quirks, eh?

Lessons From My Goof-Ups (Because, Trust Me, I’ve Had a Few)

I once tried to speed through the onion frying and ended up with crunchy bits in the finished curry—not nice, just hang on till they’re soft, okay?
Don’t skip the simmer time, even if you’re starving. It makes a world of difference for the flavours. (But sometimes I use the microwave to soften the onion if I’m really in a rush—shhh!)
I underestimated spice once and had everyone coughing. Start mild, taste, and work up if you want to feel the burn.

Got Questions? Here’s What Friends Actually Ask Me

Can I make it vegetarian?: Absolutely, just ditch the chicken and maybe use more chickpeas or paneer. I’ve even seen someone throw in squashed sweet potato before (I liked it, but my family called it curry-mash—that’s siblings for you).
Can I meal-prep this?: Yes! In fact, I think this tastes better the next day. Just reheat gently so the chicken doesn’t dry out. I’ve frozen it loads, so that’s alright too.
Do I need fancy spices like cardamom or whole cloves?: Nah, you can go full supermarket basics here. If you want to add them, though, toss them in with the onions and fish out before serving.
How spicy is “spicy” here?: Totally up to you. I’d say this one’s medium if you use what I’ve written. If you like it hotter, just add more chilli at the end. A squeeze of lemon works, too.
Why does mine look thinner/thicker than yours?: Honestly, who knows! Tomatoes vary, so does coconut milk. Just simmer longer to thicken, or add a splash of water if it gets stodgy.

One last ramble: curry always makes me nostalgic for those university days with one pan between four of us, dodgy toasters, and a lot of improv meals. But also, I think the best part of home cooking is making it your own—mix it up, have a giggle, and don’t sweat the small details. Fancier versions abound (try Serious Eats if you want intricate stuff!), but this is what fits my real life. Enjoy!

Chicken and Chickpea Curry