Writing at the Kitchen Table

New Beginnings

2008-10-01T15:32:00.005Z

Still in it's embryonic stages, not entirely perfect but this is what the techno-nerds refer to as Beta: our new blog, revolving entirely around that most perfect of foods: chocolate. For those of you who still drop in occasionally, do call round our new blog for a cup of steaming hot chocolate - you won't regret it! And don't forget to tell us what you think:

THE COCOA LOUNGE

Thanks for all your support for Writing at the Kitchen Table and we hope that you will enjoy the new blog and still get inspiration from the old one, as we continue to be inspired by all food bloggers out there!

A Tale of Two Soups

2007-12-14T12:18:00.001Z

Whilst the shimmering frost looks delightful and the pale blue/grey wintry sky are truly evocative of every other winter that has passed me by, I am already longing for the past (or, preferably future) summer. Despite the sun closing up early and denying us of mood-enhancing daylight, the days seem much longer as I shiver in my car on the way to work. Fortunately, we have Christmas to look forward to, and, although it’s gone before it seems to have barely arrived, the days leading up to Christmas are always thrilling. There’s the Gingerbread House to make, biscuits and cookies to take to work, the tree to decorate and presents to buy and wrap.
So, because of all this extra activity, we need quick and nourishing meals, using up wilting vegetables from the fridge to ensure plenty of room for the seasonal extras. And what quick and nourishing meal do the Ericksons always turn to in days of financial hardship and droopy vegetables? That’s right, soup.
The first soup, Mushroom and Wild Rice, is incredibly simple, some mushrooms sauteed in butter with a little fresh Thyme, some garlic before being pressed gently through a sieve. The garlicky/fungus liquid is then used to form the basis of the soup alongside a basic roux, and the rest is made up with milk. The mushrooms are then added to this rich soup with some wild rice and simmered gently for about 45 minutes.
The second soup is truly a testament to my ingenuity in the kitchen or you could call it “good luck”. A three week old bunch of Broccoli, rapidly turning yellow is simmered in some chicken stock with a diced potato and some sauteed onion. This is then pureed and returned to the pan with a little cooked shredded chicken (entirely optional) and enriched with a swirl of single cream. As someone who generally despises Broccoli, this tasted revelatory. At last! A way to make those little green trees interesting!
Despite both soups being “leftover” users, with the right garnish, they are also elegant enough for a dinner party yet hearty and speedy enough for a quick after work supper.

MUSHROOM AND WILD RICE SOUP – serves 2-4
Ingredients:
250g Mushrooms, cleaned of any loose soil with kitchen paper or a soft brush and roughly chopped. I used Chestnuts Mushrooms but normal white, cultivated ones would be OK. You can, of course, use Shiitake or Oyster or Wild for an even better flavour.
50g Butter
Spring of Fresh Thyme
2 Cloves Garlic, finely chopped
25g Flour
25g Wild Rice
1 Pint Milk
Salt and Pepper and a little Nutmeg
METHOD:
Gently saute the chopped mushrooms, Thyme and Garlic in 25g of the butter. Grind over a little pepper and salt to help release the juices. Cook until softened and easily pierced with a fork.
Strain through a sieve into a bowl, reserving both the liquid and the mushrooms separately.
In the same pan, melt the remaining 25g of butter and whisk in the flour, until a smooth roux is formed. Pour over the onion juice and half the pint of milk. Bring gently to the boil but keep whisking to ensure it does not go lumpy or stick. Add more milk if the soup seems too thick.
Grate over a little nutmeg.
Add the reserved chopped mushrooms and the rice. Leave to simmer gently until the rice is softened. Season as necessary and serve.

BROCCOLI AND CHICKEN SOUP serves 4-6
Ingredients:
Large head of Broccoli, about 300 or 400g, cut into small florets
1 Medium Onion, peeled and roughly chopped
1 Medium Potato, peeled and diced
1 Pint Chicken Stock
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper
Shredded Cooked Chicken (optional)
Some Single Cream (optional)
METHOD:
Heat a little olive oil in a large saucepan and saute the onion until translucent. Add the diced potatoes and florets of broccoli, sauteing briefly before covering with the chicken stock. Bring to the boil, cover and turn down to a gently simmer.
Cook until the potatoes and broccoli are tender.
Pour this mixture into a blender, leaving some whole pieces behind for texture if you want. Process until smooth and return to the saucepan. Taste for seasoning. Stir in the shredded chicken if using and cook gently for another couple of minutes. Stir through some single cream to further enrich the soup and serve.

St Lucia Day

2007-12-13T10:59:00.000Z

O, Saint Lucia,
O, Saint Lucia,
Wearing white,
Lighting up the darkest
Lighting up the darkest
Winter night,
Winter night

Today, the 13th December, marks the Feast Day of St Lucia, a European religious holiday dedicated to the Italian saint, Lucia. Lucia is the patron saint of Sicily (also known as Syracuse), who, supposedly due to nothing more than a spurned lover, suffered a martyrs death in the 400AD.
Throughout Italy, Sweden and Denmark, she is marked by either the eldest daughter of the household wearing a white dress (to symbolise the sainthood and purity of Lucia) with a red band (symbolising her death – she had miraculously survived the traditional martyrs death of burning, the flames refusing to lap near her feet, so her spurned lover stabbed her). A crown of candles completes Lucia’s image, originally enabling her to use both hands to bring ample food to the banished Christians in the dark catacombs of Sicily. These days, the symbolic eldest daughter brings Saffron Buns or Lussekattes (St Lucias Cat) to their parents for breakfast or to school teachers. It is an exciting remembrance as it also represents the beginning of the Advent and, whilst not an official holiday, it is spent celebrating with lots of food and seasonal jollity. It is known as the Festival of Lights.
Despite us miserable Brits not celebrating such joyous remembrances, it would be well worth adding the St Lucia Bun to your all-year-round baking repertoire. An incredibly tender (due to the two packages of yeast and a whole cupful of cream), sweet Saffron scented dough that requires no kneading and is so easy and generous to handle that you can form the buns into traditional “cat” shapes, swirls or plaits, complicated knots and twists or simple Brioche-style rolls. They are delicious served hot with lots of melting, unsalted butter and spread thickly with jam or, as my husband discovered, they also suit the tangy filling of feta cheese with cucumber. St Lucia Buns also freeze remarkably well, given their delicate disposition, and this recipe makes quite a few so this could come in handy. Also, with a pinch more salt added to the dough, these would also make a delicious dinner roll.
The recipe is taken from The Great Scandinavian Baking Book by Beatrice Ojakangas.
SAFFRON CHRISTMAS BREAD OR SAFFRON BUNS
Ingredients:
2 Packages of Dried Yeast
½ Cup Warm Water
½ Cup Sugar
½ Cup Melted Butter (4oz), cooled slightly
1 Cup Light or Single Cream
¼ - ½ Teaspoon Saffron, preferably powdered
2 Eggs
4 Cups Plain Flour
Raisins for decoration (optional)
Glaze:
1 Egg
2 Tbsp. Milk
METHOD:
Sprinkle the dried yeast over the warm water, add a tablespoon of the sugar and leave to bubble up, about 5 minutes or so.
Add the melted butter, cream, saffron and eggs and beat until you get a smooth, shiny batter.
Add one cupful at a time of the flour, ensuring that you beat well between additions to ensure that you maintain the shiny, smooth batter. Once all the flour is amalgamated, cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for between 4-24 hours.
Preheat oven to 180c.
The dough will now have easily doubled in size and you will be able to break of small handfuls of the dough. Lightly flour your hands and shape them, either in traditional St Lucia formations (often a cat, ox, boar or Christmas cross) or in simple bread rolls or plaits. You could also make one large wreath by dividing the dough into three, plaiting it and then curling it into a circle, pinching together the ends to form a complete wreath. This way of serving the bread is often studded with candles and used as a stunning, edible centrepiece on the table.
Place your formed buns onto lightly greased baking sheet(s) and leave to rise for another 45 minutes or so. Decorate with Raisins.
Brush with the beaten egg and milk wash and bake for between 20-35 minutes or until lightly golden.
Serve with butter and jam or experiment with sandwich fillings.
ENJOY ST LUCIA DAY!

Tiffin and Flapjack!

2007-12-11T14:31:00.000Z

Whilst Tiffin and Flapjack sound like the latest zany duo on the Cartoon Network, a pair of coyote-foiling, acorn hurling squirrels or something, they are, of course, merely sweet treats that will satisfy a sugary craving.
Both Tiffin and Flapjacks are subject to much universal confusion. In the UK, Flapjacks are an oaty/sugary/buttery concoction, beloved by schoolchildren from a certain generation everywhere (American readers may know Flapjacks, however, as a sort of pancake).
They (that is, the British version) are incredibly simple to make (melt butter with some sugar and golden syrup, stir in oats, press into tin and bake) and have a slightly higher nutritional value on the sliding scale of sugary treats (which ranges from saccharin hell up to sweet, sweet heaven (this higher echelon is currently inhabited by Candied Yams). However, the Flapjacks do contain Oatmeal which, even combined liberally with butter and sugary stuff, is incredibly good for you, having cholesterol busting properties and offering slow-releasing carbohydrates and sugars. This particular version, also contains another health-hero, the banana. It keeps the Flapjacks much moister than those crunchy ones you used to get at school, with a delicious banana flavour that isn’t too overpowering.
Tiffin is known in South India as a between-meals snack or light lunch. Much like the Japanese have Bento Boxes for their immaculately compartmentalised lunches, the Indians have Tiffin-Boxes. Tiffin over here is simply refrigerator cake or chocolate biscuit cake. For many, along with Flapjacks, it will have marked the start of infantile cooking, pour and stir recipes offering children a quick and satisfying treat. Much like the Flapjacks, Tiffin is melted butter and golden syrup, this time mixed with molten chocolate that is then bolstered generously with crushed Rich Tea biscuits, raisins, hazelnuts and coconut or perhaps glace cherries. The options are endless. And, if you use a decent dark chocolate, Tiffin makes a rich, decadent treat for grown ups too.
I am choosing to keep some pieces of Tiffin and squares of Flapjacks in our biscuit tin whilst we are “eating healthily” because I know exactly what has gone in them and I feel that we have greater control over our intake of sugar and fat this way. Besides, both are so rich that you only require a small square to feel that your sweet tooth can take that well-earned break from bugging you.
Both of these recipes come from one of my favourite cookbooks at the moment, Sue Lawrence’s Book of Baking. All of the recipes are simple enough for the non-baker or young person taking tentative steps towards cooking. She writes in a straight-forward, non-flowery manner as you would expect of a Scotswoman and everything looks delicious, comforting and homely. Highly recommended.
To make the Banana Flapjacks, here’s how:
BANANA FLAPJACKS recipe from Sue Lawrence’s Book of Baking
Ingredients:
125g Unsalted Butter
85g Light Muscovado or Brown Sugar
2 Tablespoons Golden Syrup
350g Porridge Oats
½ Teaspoon Baking Powder
2 Medium Ripe Bananas, peeled and mashed
METHOD:
Preheat oven to 180c. Lightly butter a baking sheet, 9” x 13”.
Gently melt the butter, sugar and Golden Syrup in a large saucepan.
Once melted, stir in the porridge oats along with baking soda until completely combined.
Stir in the mashed banana and turn out the mixture into the greased sheet. Press down firmly.
Bake for about 15-20 minutes or until the Flapjacks are starting to brown around the edges and the middle feels firm to the touch. They will firm up as they cool, so leave in the baking sheet before cutting and removing.
Cut into 2-3” squares.
Serve and enjoy! To maintain absolute freshness, keep in an airtight tin, as they can tend to go soggy the next day because of the banana.

And the Tiffin:
TIFFIN or CHOCOLATE BISCUIT CAKE adapted from Book of Baking by Sue Lawrence
Ingredients:
175g Unsalted Butter (I used salted though without any undue flavour confliction)
2 tbsp. Golden Syrup
250g good quality Dark Chocolate (for those of you who live in the UK, Aldi do a very reasonable and delicious cooking chocolate, in both milk and dark)
280g Rich Tea or Digestives or a Combination, crushed roughly in a freezer bag
170g Raisins
85g Roasted and Coarsely Chopped Hazelnuts
METHOD:
Gently melt the butter, chocolate and golden syrup in a large saucepan until melted and glossy.
Stir in the crushed biscuit pieces, the raisins and the hazelnuts.
Turn out into a lightly greased cake tin, 9” square.
Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, preferably overnight, before cutting into squares and gorging.
OPTIONAL: You can halve the raisins and add 85g of coconut as per the original recipe, or replace the raisins with glace cherries. Play around with whatever nuts, dried fruit and biscuits or cookies you have lying around.
ENJOY!

A Little Vegetarian Butchery

2007-12-05T13:45:00.000Z

If you are a dyed in the wool, gnawing meat from the bone carnivore, it can seem a little daunting cooking for a vegetarian. After all, you can’t just serve them what you’re already having, minus the meat part. A plate of vegetables seems a little meagre.
When I was a vegetarian, during my misspent youth, my mum used to spend hours pouring over Linda McCartney cookbooks, trying to find recipes that made my diet not only interesting, but nutritious. And it must have worked – I was never ill ,although I was skinny as a rake (perhaps I should consider taking up vegetarianism again, in light of our current dietary issues). There wasn’t the vast array of vegetarian options that you have today. Perhaps through fear of the unknown, my mother refused to cook TVP (Textured Vegetable Protein) and to this day has a lifelong aversion to Tofu. Therefore, the bulk of my meals came from potatoes, cheese, onions and pasta. Fortunately for me, I adore anything starchy/carbohydrate heavy and it wasn’t until I started eating meat again that I actually put on weight.
But I digress. Whilst flipping idly through a copy of the Classic Cheese Cookery by Peter Graham, I came across a Jane Grigson recipe for an old Welsh classic, Glamorgan Sausages. There is little historical background as to how this dish first came into existence, however, it is fair to assume that it came about through necessity and frugality, rather than to please the local vegetarians.
Glamorgan Sausages are a rich combination of breadcrumbs, local cheese (Caerphilly is traditional) and leek or spring onion, seasoned generously with herbs and bound together with egg yolks. This mixture is then formed into small sausages, dipped in egg white and more breadcrumbs before being fried in a little oil, ‘til golden. We served them with a light tomato salad to cut through the richness of the cheesy sausages and indeed, they would be delicious served cold, dipped in ketchup or mustard too.
Instead of the Caerphilly, we used cheddar although you don’t want a cheese that is too strong or oily, but likewise firm with a good melting texture and robust flavour. We also thought that perhaps some frozen peas or sweetcorn stirred into the mixture would add a cheerful freshness. If you were feeling non-frugal, you could perhaps stir in some pesto instead of mustard, some toasted pine-nuts and roll the sausages in some Parmesan spiked breadcrumbs for an Italian feel.
But for now, here’s the basic recipe, to play with as you wish:
GLAMORGAN SAUSAGES – makes 6-8 depending on how large you roll them
Ingredients:
145g Freshly Grated Caerphilly, Lancashire or Cheddar Cheese
120g Fresh White Breadcrumbs (although I used brown granary which gave the sausages a deliciously nutty taste)
2 Tbsp Chopped Leek or Spring Onion
3 Egg Yolks
½ Teaspoon Fresh Thyme
1 Tbsp Fresh Chopped Parsley
1 Tsp Mustard (I used Dijon)
Salt and Pepper
1 Egg White
Extra Breadcrumbs for Coating (Panko are delicious if you don’t have any fresh leftover)
Vegetable Oil for frying
METHOD:
Heat some vegetable oil in a frying pan, over moderate heat.
In a large bowl, mix together the cheese, breadcrumbs and leek or spring onions.
Stir in the egg yolks, herbs, mustard and salt and pepper. Mix well until a cohesive mixture is formed. Add a little water if the mixture is a bit crumbly, more breadcrumbs if too wet. The mixture should be moist but not sticky.
Form into 6-8 small sausages, dipping each into egg white and then into the reserved breadcrumbs.
Shallow fry them until they are golden on each side, about 5-7 minutes, and the middle is melting.
ENJOY!

A Sweet (and Savoury) Treat

2007-12-04T10:56:00.000Z

I have always had this thing for salty/sweet foods. As a wayward youth, I would dip McDonalds French Fries into their thick chocolate shakes. I have also been known to eat Kit Kat Chunky bars with a packet of Ready Salted Crisps. And of course, I adore anything that combines peanut butter with chocolate.
However, this strange compulsion did not manage to reach the dinner table. That is, until Sunday.
Cooking an ad-hoc and very late Thanksgiving Meal for Paul and a couple of friends, I was asked to prepare Sweet Potatoes with Marshmallows, Green Bean Casserole and Cranberry Sauce. It was the least I could do, considering I refused to cook a large turkey (a turkey for four equates to lots of leftovers that just end up in the dogs bowl – not that they mind) and forgot to make any stuffing for the organic chicken I prepared instead.
Paul has been requesting Sweet Potatoes with Marshmallows (known in the US as Candied Sweet Potatoes or Yams) every Thanksgiving that I’ve known him and for some reason I’ve never actually prepared it. This year though, I relented. I pulled out a recipe from Nigella Lawson’s Feast and got to work.
The sweet potatoes are drizzled with a little olive oil, wrapped in foil and baked at a reasonably high temperature until meltingly soft. The orange flesh is then stripped easily from the skin and whipped up with some butter, cinnamon, salt and lime juice. This mash (tasty enough to serve alone) is then topped with marshmallows and seared in a really hot oven for 10 minutes until melty, crusty and browned. And that first taste? It is like an orgasm of flavour on the tongue. Every mouthful offers complete and utter satisfaction, whether you smear a dab of it on the chicken, or mix it with a little mashed potato or just savour it alone. Quite simply, it is the best side dish I have ever tasted, all other dishes fading into simple mediocrity when pitched against this ambrosial treat.
Furthermore, the dish transported me, via its heady, scented taste to America, where I have never eaten them before. I have, however, smelt this cinnamon sweet smell all over the US at Thanksgiving. A simple, sweet aroma that I truly gave thanks for.
The best thing about Thanksgiving? I never thought I would say this, but the leftovers. Our guests were sitting on the fence about the Sweet Potatoes (but they loved the Green Bean Casserole) and apparently aren’t as fiendishly desiring of vegetables in various states of mashed-ness. The next day, we fried up the mashed potato and mashed parsnip (another fantastic way to serve this underused vegetable: boil until tender, then mash with lots of butter, salt, pepper, nutmeg, dash of maple syrup and a small glug of brandy or rum) with some leftover brussel sprouts: a slightly different version of Bubble and Squeak. This was served alongside the reheated Sweet Potato Marshmallow nectar (still just as good), and some baked beans. Sure, it was a little strange but it was more than just a little great. And not just for Thanksgiving.

If the taste alone isn't enough to get you try it, there are the health benefits from eating Sweet Potatoes (if you minus the marshmallows). They are rich in complex carbohydrates, Vitamin C and Vitamin B6 plus Beta Carotine. In 1992, the Sweet Potato ranked highest, compared to other vegetables, for nutritional content and benefit. They are incredibly good for diabetics (definitely minus the marshmallows!) as they can stabilise the blood sugar levels too.
And if you’ll excuse me, I have to go out and buy some Sweet Potatoes – I have half a bag of marshmallows that desperately need using up.

Now, A Reason to Use Up That Sherry....

2007-11-30T11:32:00.000Z

If you have ever wondered what to do with the bottle of sherry that your friend brought back from Spain, I (or rather Delia Smith) have the perfect recipe.
I am not a big sherry drinker, finding it too heavy and sweet for sipping purposes. However, it is an excellent all-round alcohol for cooking with, whether you want to add a bit of depth to a stir-fry or gravy, bolster a rich, meaty ragu or to bring out the natural sweetness of berries. You might even use it in a trifle.
Sherry, or particularly Marsala, is used to it's greatest success though in that most traditional of all Italian sweets, Zabaglione. A simple mousse-like dessert, comprising of egg yolks, sugar and Marsala (but other sweet wines can be used for different flavour) whisked in a double boiler, until light and fluffy. There is a charming story from 15th Century Italy that describes the initial process of how Zabaglione was discovered. A skillful and fierce Umbrian nobleman called Giovan Baglioni (known locally as Zvan Bajoun) was forced to keep his army of men happy (apparently they would switch sides if they were not given suitable rations – a case of politics being ruled by the stomach) when they were fighting and, discovering that he only had some eggs, honey and sweet wine at his disposal, ordered his cooks to boil everything in a pan and serve up the resulting dish. The solders so enjoyed this sweetened, slightly frothy mixture that they asked for seconds, slept soundly that night and fought with such vigour the next day that the surviving opposition asked them what was their secret. They simply replied Zwanbajoun. Over time, the name has been refined to Zabaglione, the method has been made simpler and the honey replaced with sugar. However, It is still considered as a “pick-me-up”, no doubt due to the high alcohol content, although I am not sure if the Italian army are still served it as part of their daily menu!

Delia Smith, Britain’s first true TV domestic goddess, has generously visited Harry's Bar in Venice on our behalf, sampled the many Venetian treats they have to offer and returned with a truly stunning torte that is both simple and wonderfully delicious, Harry's Bar Torta di Zabaglione.
An all in one, featherlight sponge cake, so light as to be almost of pudding texture, filled generously with a rich, thick Zabaglione-inspired cream.
The cream needs to be chilled for at least two hours, so make this first. The cake can also be made a few hours in advance and wrapped in clingfilm when cooled, ready to cut in half when you are.
It is simple enough to serve for a casual afternoon tea on Sunday but looks glamorously pale enough to be served for a special occasion too. In her book, How to Cook Pt.3, Delia ices the sides but leaves the golden top plain, just dusted with icing sugar. However, you may find, as I did, that this was a little hard to achieve. Despite being chilled, the filling remains just a bit too creamy to give a perfect presentation to the cake. I simply slathered it on all over. And you will have cream left over. Just eat it with a spoon. Cooks treat, of course.

Oh, and it is just as good a couple of days later, providing it has been well fridged. At this point, heavily laden with the boozy cream, it really does become pudding like. And terribly, wonderfully, moreish.
The perfect Pick-Me-Up!

HARRYS BAR TORTA DI ZABAGLIONE from Delia Smiths How to Cook Book 3
Ingredients:
For the Zabaglione filling:
3 large egg yolks
3 oz (75 g) golden caster sugar
1½ oz (40 g) plain flour, sifted
9 fl oz (250 ml) Marsala
12 fl oz (340 ml) double cream
For the cake:
4 oz (110 g) self-raising flour
½ level teaspoon baking powder
2 large eggs, at room temperature
4 oz (110 g) very soft butter
4 oz (110 g) golden caster sugar
¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
a little sifted icing sugar, to dust

You will also need a 1½ in (4 cm) deep sponge tin, 8 in (20 cm) in diameter, lightly greased and the base lined with silicone paper (baking parchment).
First of all make the Zabaglione filling. Using an electric hand whisk, beat the egg yolks for 1 minute in a medium bowl, then add the sugar and beat until the mixture is thick and pale yellow (about 3 minutes). Next, whisk in the flour a tablespoon at a time, mixing in very thoroughly, then gradually whisk in the Marsala.
Now tip the mixture into a medium heavy-based saucepan and place over a medium heat. Then, cook the mixture, stirring constantly, until it has thickened and is just about to boil; this will take about 5 minutes. Don't worry if it looks a bit lumpy, just tip it into a clean bowl, then whisk until smooth again. Let the custard cool, whisking it from time to time to stop a skin forming. When it is cold, cover with clingfilm and pop in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours. Pre-heat the oven to gas mark 3, 325°F (170°C).
Meanwhile, make the cake. To do this, take a large mixing bowl, place the flour and baking powder in a sieve and sift into the bowl, holding the sieve high to give them a good airing as they go down. Now all you do is simply add the other cake ingredients to the bowl and, provided the butter is really soft, just go in with the electric hand whisk and whisk everything together until you have a smooth, well-combined mixture, which will take about 1 minute. What you will now end up with is a mixture that drops off a spoon when you give it a tap on the side of the bowl. If it seems a bit stiff, add a little water and mix again.
Now spoon the mixture into the tin, level it out with the back of a spoon and place the tin on the centre shelf of the oven. The cake will take 30-35 minutes to cook, but don't open the oven door until 30 minutes have elapsed. To test whether it is cooked or not, touch the centre lightly with a finger: if it leaves no impression and the sponge springs back, it is ready. Remove it from the oven, then wait about 5 minutes before turning it out on to a wire cooling rack. Carefully peel off the base paper, which is easier if you make a fold in the paper first, then pull it gently away without trying to lift it off. Now leave the sponge to cool completely.
To assemble the torta, whip the double cream in a large bowl until stiff, then add the Zabaglione custard to the bowl and whisk again until thoroughly mixed. Place the cake flat on a board, then, holding a serrated palette knife horizontally, carefully slice it into 2 thin halves. Next, reserve 2-3 heaped tablespoons of the Zabaglione filling to decorate the sides of the cake and spread the rest of the filling over the bottom half, easing it gently to the edges. Place the other cake half on top and press down very gently. Before you spread the mixture on the sides of the cake, it's a good idea to brush away any loose crumbs, so they don't get mixed up in it. Now, using a small palette knife, spread the reserved filling evenly all around the sides of the cake. Finally, dust the top with the icing sugar before serving. If the cake is made and decorated ahead of time, store it, covered, in the fridge (to keep it firm), but remove it half an hour before serving
(recipe taken from directly from Delia's website, as I cannot possibly improve on it!)

A Sweet Thanksgiving Pt.3

2007-11-28T08:17:00.000Z

The third and final sweet treat of Thanksgiving was a spin on the classic Pumpkin Pie.
I find Pumpkin Pie to be a little anti-climatic, possibly because it is not part of my foodie heritage and to that end, Paul is not a big fan of our Christmas Pudding.
It is an interesting nuance of our foodie cultures that we expect certain foods at specific times of the year, otherwise it would seem as though something were missing. For example, I loath Christmas Cake, can't stand it, but I love the stiring and baking ritual of it, the smell of spices filling the kitchen as it cooks.
Likewise, I find the pumpkin/eggy mixture to be a little cloying. One slice is always more than enough. Curiously, I adore Egg Custard Tarts, with their speckly Nutmeg tops, and Pumpkin Pie is merely an orange extension of that ancient tart.
The Pumpkin Pie is steeped in history, just as our Christmas Pud is: the first European settlers (eventually deciding to live on the Plimoth Plantation in New England in 1621) discovering how the American Indians made great use of this fantastically shaped gourd, the Pumpkin, found it incredibly versatile, and used it in both sweet and savoury dishes.
The American love of pies goes back many hundreds of years so it comes as little surprise then that the settlers used simmered pumpkin flesh in a pie of sorts. In those formative days, they would not have had ovens, so they may have filled the hollowed out shells with the flesh simmered with milk, honey and spices. This would have then been baked in hot ashes and produced the earliest variations of Pumpkin Pie, albeit a pie without a crust.
The first mention of a pie crust (or paste) being filled with pumpkin, was in 1651 and not by a Settlement wife, but by French chef, Francois Pierre la Varenne:

"Tourte of pumpkin - Boile it with good milk, pass it through a straining pan very thick, and mix it with sugar, butter, a little salt and if you will, a few stamped almonds; let all be very thin. Put it in your sheet of paste; bake it. After it is baked, besprinkle it with sugar and serve."

In 1796, some 140 years later or thereabouts, the first American Cookbook was published, American Cooking by an American Orphan (actually Amelia Simmons) and she notes, not one, but two recipes for Pompkin Pudding (sic):

Pompkin Pudding No. 1. One quart stewed and strained, 3 pints cream, 9 beaten eggs, sugar, mace, nutmeg and ginger, laid into paste No. 7 or 3, and with a dough spur, cross and chequer it, and baked in dishes three quarters of an hour.
Pompkin Pudding No. 2. One quart of milk, 1 pint pompkin, 4 eggs, molasses, allspice and ginger in a crust, bake 1 hour.

Her charming recipes are very similar to those we utilise today, securing the Pumpkin Pie’s place in culinary history as a true American Classic. However, being a classic simply isn’t enough for some of us and this age-old recipe has to be tweaked, primped and altered beyond all recognition. Enter Ina Garten.
I love Ina Garten and her carefree style of cooking. Her portion diagnostics occasionally leave a little to be desired for those cooking only for 2 or 4, but a little modifications usually reigns them back in.
In her latest book, Barefoot Contessa at Home, she gives us a winning alternative to Pumpkin Pie in the form of Pumpkin Parfait. Whilst she doesn't exactly sell it to me by referring to it as "...certainly not the worst dessert I'd invented," it is in fact much better than you might imagine.
A whippy, light concoction of tinned pumpkin spiced up with nutmeg and cinnamon of course, a whole cup of two different types of sugar (brown and white), whipped, sweetened cream, a good slug of rum, and for gelatin virgins, a gentle primer in the form of a sachet of, well, gelatin.
This is layered up with more whipped cream and ginger biscuits, to form a deliciously creamy dessert that deserves more than one outing a year.
Ina suggests making the Ginger Cookies (recipe in aforementioned book), but being short on time, I bought some Stem Ginger Cookies which worked really well. At a push, Ginger Nuts (Ginger Snaps) would be great too. The dessert is incredibly rich and certainly needs the bite of something crunchy so don’t be afraid to stack up the ginger biscuits.
One last proviso – if you are serving this dessert for ‘special’ guests, don’t do what I did and forget that you don’t actually have any sundae glasses. As you can see, we had to make do with a beer tankard (yes, of course we have those!), a wine glass and a plastic tumbler. We call it ‘homestyle’.
Here’s the recipe, post-Thanksgiving or not, it’s a great way to use up any old cans of pumpkin you might have lying around, or to utilise them big ol’ gourds that you wondered if you could actually manage to grow this year…

PUMPKIN PARFAIT from Ina Gartens’ Barefoot Contessa at Home
Ingredients:
¼ Cup Rum (I used Brandy, which was just as good)
1 Sachet Gelatin
1 x 15oz Can of pure Pumpkin (not pie filling)
½ Cup Granulated Sugar
½ Cup Light Brown Sugar
2 Large Egg Yolks
½ Tsp Cinnamon
¼ Tsp Ground Nutmeg
Zest of One Orange (I omitted this due to lack of oranges)
½ Tsp Salt
1 ½ Cups Double (Heavy) Cream
1 ½ Tsp Vanilla Extract
2 Cups Whipped Cream plus more for topping
Box Ginger Cookies (or use your own recipe)
Crystallised Ginger for Decoration (optional)
METHOD:
Place the rum/brandy in the top half of a double boiler. Sprinkle with the gelatin and leave to one side for 5-10 minutes. Meanwhile, half fill the bottom half with water and bring to a lively simmer.
In a large bowl, whisk the pumpkin, sugars, egg yolks, orange zest, spices and salt. Set to one side.
Place the pan with the rum/brandy and gelatin over the simmering water and cook until the gelatin has completely dissolved.
Whisk immediately into the pumpkin mixture.
In another bowl, whisk up the double cream with a little icing sugar and the vanilla until it peaks softly. Fold into the ochre pumpkin mix.
To assemble, put a thick layer of the pumpkin mousse into the bottom of your sundae glasses (or beer tankards), then a good gloop of whipped cream, then a couple of ginger biscuits. Continue until all of your mixtures are used up. The parfaits will look gorgeously swirled and peachy.
Cover with cling film and chill for at least four hours, preferably overnight.
To serve, top with more fresh whipped cream and crystallised ginger crumbled.
ENJOY!

A Sweet Thanksgiving Pt.2

2007-11-27T12:07:00.000Z

The second of our Sweet Thanksgiving desserts, Banana Cream Pudding, holds a very special place in my heart for two reasons. Going way back to my childhood, a stripped down version of Banana Cream Pudding, sliced banana smothered in packet custard. A virtually instant and gratifying finish to a homely meal. I feel particularly fond of Banana Custard because it is my grandfather’s favourite pudding; in fact anything with bananas is his favourite. My grandad was the one who first showed me how to slice a banana before peeling it, and afterwards he would have to feign mock surprise as I demonstrated my new trick to him.
The second reason I am so fond of Banana Cream Pudding is that the true ingredients of the dish, Vanilla Pudding and Nila Wafers remind me of my first road trip to the US with my then-to-be husband, Paul. We put on pounds travelling around US, eating Nilla Wafers from the box and scooping out various flavours of Pudding with our our already Cheetoe-orange strained fingers. I later returned to the UK with boxes of powdered pudding in all sorts of lurid flavours and broken Nilla Wafers that hadn’t entirely survived the manhandling of the luggage handlers.
I hadn’t eaten banana custard OR Nilla wafers OR pudding for some time and Paul had requested that his Mom send us a box of the wafers over in a large care box containing several now-well thumbed issues of Gourmet Magazine. Suffice to say, the request for Banana Cream Pudding was soon demanded but I was given one proviso: I cannot use custard, I have to find a recipe for Vanilla Pudding. Just between me and the UK readers, custard is a fairly good representation of Pudding, particularly if you make it really quite thick, or use a cartoned brand (they keep forever – literally – in the pantry).
However, in this instance, I conceded and found a recipe on the Nabisco (home of the Nilla Wafer) website. Pudding is easy to make, flour, sugar, milk, egg yolks whisked up in a double boiler until the lumpy gloop turns smooth and thickens. It is then liberally, generously blanketed over sliced bananas and Nilla Wafers (there is no UK substitute for these – and, even though I am a biscuit connoisseur, I cannot think of a similar alternative. Some of those fancy Breton-style Butter rich shortcake biscuits would be just as yummy though), covered with Meringue and flashed briefly in a hot oven to brown. I thought that a sweet meringue topping would be too much sugar so replaced this with another childhood favourite, Dream Topping.
Dream Topping is our nearest equivalent to America’s Cool Whip, an amazing demonstration of what a evil genius with a craving for whipped cream but no refrigerator and open access to a cupboard full of chemicals, can produce. Both Dream Topping (a powder that you whisk up with milk) and Cool Whip are airy creams, with no hint of dairy flavour and a slightly sweet demeanour. I find both of them completely alluring and perfect for this already calorie laden pudding.
You can, of course, use regular whipped cream or go for the meringue option.
For a real retro treat, here’s how to whip up Banana Cream Pudding:
BANANA CREAM PUDDING
serves at least 6-8
Ingredients:
5 Bananas, peeled and sliced, sprinkled with a little 7-up or lemon juice to stop them browning
1/2 Cup Sugar
1/3 Cup Plain Flour
Pinch Salt
3 Egg Yolks (reserve the whites for meringue topping, if making)
2 Cups Milk
½ Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
Box Nilla Wafers (or similar buttery-style biscuit)
Whipped Cream or a Sachet of Dream Topping or Cool Whip (if not making the meringue)
METHOD:
In the top half of a double boiler, whisk together the flour, sugar and pinch of salt. Then whisk in the milk and egg yolks. Place over the bottom half of the double boiler (which will need to be quarter filled with water and brought to a brisk simmer).
Whisk mixture for 10-12 minutes, or until thickens.
Pour a little of the mixture into a heatproof serving dish, layer with the Nilla Wafers or biscuits, then a layer of sliced bananas.
Repeat this layering twice more, ending with the Pudding.
If you are going for the cream topping, slather all over the top and decorate with some more Nilla Wafers and slices of banana.
If you want to make the meringue topping, whisk the egg whites until stiff, pour in a quarter of a cup of sugar and whisk until stiff and glossy. Spoon over the pudding, taking care to cover over all the edges and bake in a pre-heated oven (175c) until browned, about 15-20 minutes.
Spoon into large bowls and straight into mouth.
Enjoy!

A Sweet Thanksgiving Pt.1

2007-11-25T18:21:00.001Z

Just because Paul and I ‘eat sensibly’ during the week doesn’t mean that we don’t treat ourselves at the weekends. And this weekend was no exception. In fact, I probably went a little OTT with the sweet treat, making not one, not two but three puds!
OK, so one of them had to be made for Paul’s pumpkin Thanksgiving treat. The other two, well, I just felt like making them.
Here then, is the part one of our Sweet Thanksgiving Weekend one off series: Cafe Sperl's Plum Squares.
The recipe, taken from Diana Henry’s wonderful Roast Figs, Sugar Snow, has been tempting me for some time. I haven’t done a lot of baking for a while and this recipe seemed like a gently re-introduction into the fine world of blending cream, sugar and flour to produce something sublime.
This recipe involves a vanilla scented shortcrust base that is easily whipped up in the food processor (although could be mixed up by hand), chilled for half an hour and then pressed into a baking sheet. It is then topped with stoned and halved plums or damsons, sprinkled with a generous amount of sugar and baked until fruit is verging on sweet, sticky collapse. The fruity shortbread is then glazed with hot apricot jam, left to set and cut into squares.
Aside from the dazzling, gem-like finish, this is otherwise a fairly unassuming looking cake/biscuit(?), with a flat base. Once you bite through the sticky tart and sweet fruit into the fragrant crumbly pastry, you are transported (with a bit of imagination) to a baroque-style café in Vienna, sipping hot chocolate and watching children sweep by in velvet coats on ice skates.
There is something timeless about these simple sweetmeats, so easy to make and yet incredibly complex on the taste buds.

I used some frozen plums left over from late Summer, but you could also use slices of pear or apple, fresh blackberries, greengages or gooseberries. The fruit doesn’t need to emit too much liquid as it cooks, lest you should suffer a soggy bottom, although a light dusting of fine cornmeal (polenta) on the base before you layer up the fruit should soak up too much ooze if you really fancy trying it with strawberries or raspberries.
A simple, sweet treat that can be made the day before you want to serve it, looks just as charming served casually with a cup of tea or coffee as with a generous slug single cream for a decadent pudding.

CAFE SPERL'S PLUM SQUARES (from Diana Henry's Roasted Figs, Sugar Snow)
Ingredients:
200g Plain Flour
100g Butter, not fridged
175g Caster Sugar
Salt
1 Egg Yolk
1 Tsp. Vanilla Extract
675g Plums or other soft fruit, de-stoned if necessary
2 tbsp Sugar
200g Redcurrant or Apricot Jam
METHOD:
To make the base, place the flour and butter in a food processor fitted with the plastic blade and process until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the sugar and salt, mix again.
Add the egg yolk and vanilla and process until it forms a rough ball.
Scoop out of the processor bowl, form into a ball, wrap in clingfilm and chill for half an hour.
Preheat oven 180c.
Halve the plums and de-stone.
Into a lined baking sheet 8 x 12" square, press the dough out.
Press the plums into the dough rectangle in rows, making just one layer.
Sprinkle with the 2 tablespoons of sugar and bake for 35-45 minutes until the fruit is soft, sticky and caramelised. The pastry, where exposed, should be a golden brown colour.
Leave to cool.
Melt the jam with a little water and brush generously over the fruit. It should be gleaming and glossy.
Leave to set, then cut into 3" squares, larger or smaller if you'd prefer.
Enjoy!

The Puddings Start Tomorrow!

2007-11-23T11:19:00.000Z

The joy of soup is in its relative simplicity, quickness and the instant gratification you get from the very first spoonful.
But, when I tell my Mother that I’m cooking soup for tea, she’s quick to point out: “how on earth will Paul be full on that?”
I have noticed that certain people from a certain generation feel that meat and two veg is the only meal you can serve your hardworking husband when he gets home from work.. After all, a strapping young man like that needs his nourishment.
What most people don’t know about Paul though, is that he was a vegetarian in his youth and in college survived on a diet of boiled rice and soy sauce. For which I thank him profusely.
Our conjoined lives are made that much easier by our non-committal to a raging, carnivorous desire to eat red meat garnished with the odd overcooked sprout or soggy carrot. We don’t spend our evenings gnawing on ribs and tossing the bones to our drooling, anticipatory hounds, or nibbling chicken wings clean, cartilage, tendons and all.
That’s not to say that we don’t have our moments. On next weeks menu is Oxtail Soup, made with one of the most gelatinous, meaty and flavoursome parts of the bovine beastie. And any leftover meat I plan to throw into a hearty Mulligatawny Soup.
But for last nights meal we tucked into steaming bowls of Green Thai Curry Soup, bolstered generously with Mange Tout, shredded chicken breast, French Beans and Beansprouts.
And that’s the thing about soup. You think it’s never going to be enough, but as you reach the bottom of the bowl, scooping out all the best bits that have sunk to the bottom, concealed like buried treasure beneath the pale green broth, you start thinking: “I couldn’t manage another bite. Well, maybe a couple of peanut M&Ms.”
For those of you who are Thai Green Curry virgins or have only used the stuff in jars, I would suggest that you try to make your own paste. Most ingredients are readily available from your local supermarket now and it keeps for a couple of weeks in the fridge in a seal tight container (I keep mine in the little coffee/spice grinder I make it in), and in fact, improves over time, becoming more mellow and flavourful. At a push, the jarred pastes are generally quite good.
One final note: the vegetables and meat recommended are just that: a recommendation. We use what we have lying around. You could use prawns instead of chicken, or one of those mixed seafood selections (just remember to put them in at the very last moment lest the squid turn into rubber). Thinly sliced beef or pork would also add a good flavour to the soup. And just for the record: the meat is entirely optional. Vegetables could include fresh thinly sliced Shiitake Mushrooms, baby corn, Bok Choi, Aubergine, Courgette or perhaps even some diced squash. I also place some Straight to Wok noodles in the bottom of the bowls and pour the soup over the top. You could boil up some regular dried noodles if you’re not a fan of the Straight to Wok ones.
TIP! A way to make the soup even more nutritious and savoury is to add half a block of creamed coconut to a pint of boiling chicken/fish/vegetable stock and then stir in a tablespoon of crunchy peanut butter. Whisk together well then add to the paste where you would normally add the coconut milk.
THAI GREEN CURRY SOUP
serves 4-6
Ingredients:
Paste (from Nigel Slater's Appetite)
4 lemongrass stalks, tougher outer leaves discarded
2-6 green chillies (the 3” long ones), deseeded or not depending on your heat tolerance
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2" galangal or ginger, peeled
2 shallots or half a small white onion, peeled, cut in half
4 tbsp chopped coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp chopped lime zest
1 tbsp nam pla (Thai fish sauce)
½ tsp ground black peppercorns
Curry:
1 Tin Coconut Milk
400ml Chicken/Fish/Vegetable Fish Stock
500g Vegetables: baby corn, mange tout or sugar snap peas, halved Green Beans, Beansprouts, Diced Aubergine (nb: If you are using Aubergine, I would recommend frying it off with the meat before you add the paste, otherwise it just doesn’t taste that great), sliced Shiitake Mushrooms etc.
500g sliced Chicken (I used breast but thighs have a better flavour)/raw Prawns/thinly sliced Beef or Pork
3 Tablespoons Groundnut Oil
1 Tablespoon Nam Pla
Juice and Zest from 1 Lime
Half a Bunch of Chopped Coriander
Seasoning to Taste
METHOD:
To make the paste, throw all the ingredients into a spice grinder and whizz until fragrant and smooth. You may need to add a little more lime juice to get everything to cohere. Alternatively, you could probably do this in a blender or, the worst possible scenario, in a pestle and mortar.
To make the curry, heat the oil in a wok or shallow frying pan. Fry off the meat (i.e. chicken, beef, pork or aubergine if going for the vegetarian option) until browned on all sides. Remove to a plate.
Turn the heat down to medium and add a little more oil if the pan seems dry. Stir in a couple of tablespoons of your freshly made (or jarred) Thai Green Curry sauce. It will sizzle but then start to simmer. After a couple of minutes it will smell deliciously fresh and fragrant.
Pour over the coconut milk and stock or coconut/peanut butter mixture and bring to a brisk simmer. Leave to mingle for 5-10 minutes then add the Nam Pla, Lime Juice and Zest, browned Meat, Vegetables and half the chopped Coriander. Leave to simmer for another 5 minutes.
Taste for seasoning. I always need to add a little salt and pepper but you may not need to.
If you are using prawns or seafood add them now and simmer for a couple minutes more.
To serve, ladle into deep bowls and sprinkle with the remaining chopped Coriander.
You can also make this into a more substantial meal by adding a little cornflour dissolved in cold water to thicken it and serving with Jasmine Rice.
Enjoy!

Pot Stickers

2007-11-21T12:24:00.000Z

Dim Sum are not particularly popular over here in the UK yet. I mean, it took us more than 40 years to catch onto sushi and I still can’t imagine anyone over the age of 70 relishing a delicious Salmon Skin Roll. My own grandfathers’ face, contorted into a mask of disgust at the thought of cold rice AND raw fish, will be forever etched into my mind when I first introduced him to the joys of supermarket sushi (and, as our dear old Coney would say, leave ‘em be).
Dim Sum is another matter altogether though. There is no searingly hot chilli to contend with, no raw fish to dice with and the chopsticks are entirely optional. Add all these winning factors to the irrefutable fact that they taste mighty fine and you’re onto a winner.
Or so you would think.
A local Dim Sum restaurant has opened up near us. Keen to visit, we checked out their website, only to be greeted with incredibly expensive delicacies that will surely mean that the death knell of this local restaurant is looming with great rapidity.
Why so expensive though? Sure, Dim Sum are fiddly, they are delicate and dainty. But the ingredients are dirt cheap. Pork Mince? Prawns, and seasonings. We are not talking about lobster and caviar folks, just honest, decent ingredients served in whimsical (to a Brit) steamers. Alas, in this instance, the name Dim Sum (roughly translated: Order to your Hearts’ Content) is – as usual - betrayed by British commercialism and greed.
But, there is hope for those of us who are not fortunate to live near a Dim Sum restaurant that offers great value as well as great food: make your own!
Don’t be shocked, it’s easy to wrap things in, er, wrappers. You’ve made egg rolls, right? Used Filo pastry? Wrapped a Band-Aid around your bleeding finger, using your non-dominant hand? Dim Sum are, therefore, a piece of metaphorical cake.
And, if you’re scared of wrappers, then take heart. Not all Dim Sum is fiddly. Chicken Feet, Spare Ribs, Congee Rice all take the form of Dim Sum. And for the sweet-toothed among you, there are the delicious dumplings, tarts and puddings, made with Red Bean Paste, Mango, Tapioca and, curiously, very little chocolate at all.
If you’re feeling particularly adventurous, you can organise a Dim Sum feast for friends and get most of the prep work completed the day before.
As for us, sitting here all smug proselytising about the joys of Dim Sum, we can confirm that yes, we have made some and yes, they were entirely successful, if not aesthetically pleasing (although for a first attempt, still quite cute really): Savoury Dumplins’, known in China as Jiaozi and in Japan as Gyoza.
The dumplings, little savoury morsels of ground pork, prawn, water chestnuts, cabbage, ginger etc, encased in Wonton Wrappers can be poached, steamed or shallow fried (Pot Stickers), served with a dipping sauce or dropped into broth. I favour the Pot Sticker method. It gives a delicious triple texture: the tender upper half of the dumpling which is steamed, the bronzed derriere and the innards, both soft and crisp, depending on the filling. Pot Stickers are traditionally served at special occasions and when turned out, they certainly look stunning when turned out onto a serving platter.

And, despite them looking complex, they are simple to prepare (Paul even made his own Wonton Wrapper dough, which was incredibly quick, simple and easy to work with) and it would be fun to get your guests in the kitchen, forming the little dumplings and arranging them in the frying pan, then digging in with chopsticks around the cooker.
We served our Pot Stickers with some takeaway noodles and rice, but they make a filling treat by themselves.
To make your own Dim Sum Delight, here's how:

SHRIMP AND PORK POT STICKERS (from Gourmet Magazine Feb 2006)

Ingredients:

Dough:

(or you can use ready made Wonton Wrappers which are available on your local Asian supermarket or deli in the chiller)

1.5 Cups Plain Flour

1/2 Cup Lukewarm Water

Filling:

3 or 4 Water Chestnuts (I used canned), chopped into small dice

1/2Lb Prawns, chopped

1/4Lb Ground Pork

3/4 Cup Chopped Spring Onion (about 4-5)

1.5 Tablespoons Soy Sauce

2 Teaspoons Minced Ginger

1 Teaspoon Sesame Oil

METHOD:
To make the dough, stir together the flour and water in a bowl until roughly combined. Turn out onto a lightly floured board and kneed until a smooth dough is formed. Add a little more flour if the dough is too sticky.

Wrap in clingfilm and refrigerate for at least 10 minutes to an hour.

Whilst waiting for the dough to chill, you can mix the filling together by throwing all the ingredients into a large bowl and mixing well. The filling will be sticky. Refrigerate until ready to use.

To make the wrappers, roll out the dough until very thin, the thickness of a sheet of kitchen roll, cut into 3.5" rounds using a smooth biscuit cutter, lightly dusting them to avoid them sticking together. You should get 24 rounds out, reusing scraps.

To form the dumplings, hold a round wrapper in the palm of your slightly cupped hand and, using a measuring tablespoon (rather than a serving tablespoon), scoop some mixture onto the middle of the wrapper. Wet one half of the edge with some water and bring the edges up to the middle and crimp with your finger tips until completely sealed. We did this part wrong and folded them in half, like little Empanadas. If you find this easier, you will still get an impressive looking turnout in the end.

Once you have made the 24 dumplings, heat 1 tablespoon of peanut oil in a 10" frying pan over medium high heat.

To arrange the dumplings, place 7 in the middle of the pan in a simple Chrysanthemum shape, then arrange the remaining dumplings around the outside. You may have to jiggle them around a little to fit, but they will go.

Cook over relatively high heat for 3-5 minutes (depending on how hot your hotplate gets) until the bottoms are browned. We actually needed longer than this because our oven is very temperamental.

Once evenly and deliciously browned, pour over 1/2 cup warm water. It will sizzle a little. Tilt the pan to ensure that the water is evenly distributed, cover and steam for about 10 minutes.

To turn out, carefully get a large plate with no tilting edges, hold over the frying pan and flip over quickly but carefully.

Serve with some dipping sauce, Sweet Chilli is always popular but I mix up my own with a little Soy, a little Nam Pla (Fish Sauce), some Lime Juice, a sliced red chilli, minced garlic and ginger and some sugar to taste. Leave for at least an hour for the flavours to mingle. This sauce keeps really well in the fridge too.

Enjoy!

A Life-Altering Soup

2007-11-20T11:33:00.000Z

I know, I’m already talking about soup again. I have written more posts extolling the joys of soup than any other dish. I never tire of them: delicate Miso-style broths, bolshy spicy meals-in-a-bowl, more stew than soup, or for ladies who lunch – purees of vegetables, extracting the sheer essence of asparagus, Jerusalem artichokes, or broccoli, to be sipped daintily.
Because Paul and I are on a strict (read: no chocolate, biscuits, cake, crisps or butter) but sensible diet, soups often appear on our evening dinner table (or rather, tray on lap, in front of telly): we have ‘cleansed’ our bodies with Miso Soups, made more substantial with sprinklings of spring onion, glass noodles, little prawn dumplings, beansprouts, tofu and Wakami (dried seaweed, packed with nutrients). I have also added highly nontraditional green beans, chopped in bite size pieces, frozen broad beans and shredded greens and red chillis. Herbs always make an aromatic brew, and coriander and mint are particularly alluring. Miso Soup can be surprisingly filling and feels incredibly nourishing. For flavour, I recommend the Miso Paste which comes in a jar in your local Health Store, but the instant sachets are OK if you’re pressed for time. Hidden at the bottom of your mug, within the murky depths, are tiny shavings of Bonito (dried tuna) and vivid green flecks of Wakami. I am constantly amazed at how the minuscule pieces of shrivelled seaweed swell and flourish when you pour hot water on them.
For a slightly more substantial but no less nourishing soup, I made my own variation of a Green Chilli recipe, taken from Gourmet Magazine (February 2007).
I am thrilled to discover that there are now several online suppliers of Mexican food in the UK. One company, Lupe Pintos, sell a vast array of the La Preferida range (which I often bring back with me in my suitcase after a trip to see the in-laws). Unfortunately this stuff doesn’t come cheap, but it’s worth experimenting with if you’re feeling particularly flush. The canned Chipotles in Adobe Sauce give real pep to a chilli that’s just missing something. Paul is a huge fan of the Refried Chipotle Beans and the Mexican Breadcrumbs make awesome fish fingers (cut a small loin of cod into 3” x 1” pieces, dip into seasoned flour, beaten egg then the breadcrumbs, fry for 2-3 minutes until golden brown and deliciously most. Serve in white bread with lettuce and mayo).
But, aside from the hottest potato chips I have ever tasted (Death Rain Habenero Chips – seductively hot), the product I was most interested in, and finally got around to using last night, was the White Hominy.
On first impressions, Hominy looks as though someone dropped their popcorn into 7-Up, literally soggy popcorn. Not surprising as it is actually dried corn kernels, soaked in an alkaline mixture (originally wood ash) until the husks are removed. The resulting nude kernel is then ready for use. This process goes by the catchy name of Nixtamalization, but despite the retro-trendy moniker, Hominy has been prepared in this manner since 1200BC. Curiously, this basic chemical process renders the kernel far more nutritious (and easier to digest) than nature originally intended.
It has a distinctive smell that reminded me of the Mexican food aisle in American supermarkets, but when used in a spicy soup or stew, it lightens a dish with its not-unpleasantly bland flavour and boiled potato texture.
It was, then, with great pleasure that I could finally bust open this enormous tin of White Hominy for use in the aforementioned Green Chilli Soup.
The original recipe uses ground pork but I didn’t have any ground pork and I felt that pork loin wouldn’t have the necessary flavour (much too lean) for the soup. This, in addition to the long cooking time it would take to tenderise the meat to raggedy standards I usually employ, meant that I decided to use a chicken breast instead. It’s the healthy option.
What’s so special about this recipe, you’re wondering. How about, a soup so fragrant with chilli and coriander and cumin that you can feel it behind your eyes. Every spoonful makes you smile and feel peaceful whilst simultaneously exciting your taste buds. Don’t panic: I’m not slipping over to the hippy darkside, I just found the soup wondrous.
So, enough wittering, you’re all thinking. We just want the recipe. OK. But, one last piece of advice that I would urge you to take: the garnishes of the toasted pumpkin seeds and sprinkled feta cheese are not optional. The lactic bite of the cheese (you could use goats cheese too) and the crunch of the seeds are as intrinsic to the dish as the fresh coriander (cilantro), chillis or cumin.
Oh, if you can’t find Hominy, I’m not sure what else to suggest. Canned Sweetcorn would be too sweet and overpowering, chick peas which look similar but are too firm and nutty. Just order a can of Hominy from either of these two online emporiums (if you’re in the UK, that is), Lupe Pintos or MexGrocer.co.uk.

GREEN CHILLI WITH CHICKEN AND HOMINY (adapted from a recipe from Gourmet Feb 07)
Ingredients:

1 Onion, peeled and cut into quarters
1-4 Jalapeno Chillis (I used the 3” chillis you can get in the supermarket in the UK, but I wussed out and de-seeded it. My heat tolerances are on go-slow at the moment), topped and cut into large chunks
2 Cloves Garlic, peeled and squashed with the back of a knife
1 ¾ Cups Chicken Stock (fresh is best, but I used a stock cube)
1 Teaspoon Cumin (I had run out of cumin powder so I toasted some seeds and ground my own in a pestle and mortar – the smell was heady and intoxicating, everyone should try it)
½ Teaspoon Salt (or to taste)
400g Hominy, drained and rinsed
1-2 Chicken Breasts, skin on or off
Half a bunch of Coriander (cilantro) or a couple of tablespoons, chopped
3 Tablespoons Vegetable Oil
Feta Cheese for Crumbling
Toasted Pumpkin Seeds for Sprinkling
METHOD:
Throw the quartered onion, chopped chilli, squashed garlic and quarter cup of the chicken stock into a food processor or blender and puree until smooth.
In a frying pan, heat one tablespoon of oil and fry off the chicken breasts until brown on both sides, this should take about 3-4 minutes. Remove to a plate.
Add the remaining oil, heat over medium high heat and stir in the onion/chilli/garlic puree mush. It will sizzle frantically for a few seconds.
Cook over a relatively high heat until the liquid has evaporated, stirring frequently, about 5-10 minutes.
Add the rest of the stock, the chicken, the cumin, salt and hominy, stir well and leave to simmer gently for about 5 more minutes or until the chicken is cooked.
Remove the chicken from the soup and shred, using two forks. Return to the soup, stir once more and serve in large deep bowls, sprinkled generously with the feta cheese and toasted pumpkin seeds.
Enjoy!

p.s. Thanks to everyone for their kind messages (and special thanks for Ulrike for her lovely postcards from Europe!) - I've missed everyone and I feel buoyed and refreshed to be back and I can't wait to catch up on everyone's blogs!

Another Daring Weekend

2007-07-30T06:40:00.000Z

This month's Daring Bakers challenge comes courtesy of baker extraordinaire, Peabody and of course, it wasn't an easy one.

After last month's gentle Bagel challenge, the Strawberry Mirror Cake sounds pretty fancy, right? A swiss roll sponge adding gentle support to a Barbie pink Strawberry Bavarian Cream, topped with the mirror element: a ruby clear jelly, flavoured with strawberry juice and a liberal dash of Kirsch.

I would never have dreamt of making this cake, imagining it to be horribly complex but, aside from being time-consuming and a bit fiddly, it was actually very simple.

Having a fear of gelatine after several nightmarish experiences with leaf gelatine, I have since found that the powdered stuff is the way to go. It might seem a little more old-fashioned than those charming little panes of gelatine glass but trust me, the powder will set anything to the thickness of a rubber tyre if you add enough of it.

This isn't a cake you would make for everyday occasions. It is quite expensive to make, utilising several punnets of fresh strawberries (and for some reason, fresh fruit is always cost-prohibitive over here) but I think it would be wonderful for a pink-loving girl's summer birthday party. It is visually stunning enough to receive plenty of oohs and ahhs. Flavourwise though, it was unsophisticated, reminding me slightly of Strawberry Angel Delight topped with Strawberry Jelly, the sponge reminscent of Frozen Swiss Roll cakes.

However, if you were to sharpen the mousse up with raspberry and blackberries, I think this cake could be suitable for a grown-up dinner party instead.

In spite of my disappointment with the final flavour though, the cake was a glowing success. Paul has taken it to work for the final taste test so only time will tell if it's merely my fussy tastebuds or if the cake really was bland. I feel particularly proud of myself for producing a cake with such a stunning mirror finish, and I would like to thank Peabody for choosing the Mirror Cake and for making me bake outside of the box (so to speak).

For those of you non-Daring Bakers who are tempted by this lovely looking cake and want a challenge, here's the recipe:
STRAWBERRY MIRROR CAKE - serves easily 8

Ingredients:

Cake and Soaking Syrup
3 eggs
3 egg yolks
¾ cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 egg whites
1/8 tsp cream of tartar
2 TBSP sugar
2/3 cup sifted cake flour
½ cup water
1/3 cups sugar
2 TBSP kirsch or strawberry liqueur
Strawberry Bavarian Cream

2 ½ TBSP unflavored gelatin
1 ½ cups strained strawberry puree(1 ½ baskets)
5 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
1 ½ cups milk
1 TBSP lemon juice
several drops of red food coloring
1 ¾ cups whipping cream
Strawberry Mirror
1 tsp lemon juice
1 TBSP kirsch
1 TBSP water
1 TBSP unflavored gelatin
Few drops of red food coloring
Strawberry Juice
1 ½ pints of strawberries(18 oz)
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup water

METHOD:
1.Preheat oven to 450F. Butter and flour the sides of an 11-by-17 inch jelly roll pan(rimmed baking sheet). Line bottom of pan with a sheet of parchment paper cut to fit bottom pan exactly.
2.Beat eggs, egg yolks and ¾ cup sugar together in a medium bowl until thick and light. Beat in the vanilla.
3.In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until foamy, ad cream of tartar and beat until whites begin to form peaks. Add the 2 TBSP sugar and beat until the whites hold stiff, glossy peaks(do not over beat).
4.Sift flour over the egg yolk mixture and fold in . Stir in one fourth of the whites. Then carefully fold in the remaining whites.
5.Spread batter evenly in pan. Bake until light brown and springy to touch(7 to 10 minutes). Cool in pan 5 minutes. Run a knife along edge to loosen. Invert cake tin to cut out 8 ¼ inch circles of cake. Wrap the cake layers, separated with waxed paper, and set aside. Cake may be frozen at this point.
6.To make soaking syrup: Combine water and the 1/3 cup sugar in saucepan; bring to a boil to dissolve sugar. Cool to room temperature; flavor with liqueur. Set aside or refrigerate in glass jar until ready to use.
7.To assemble cake: Brush sides of 10-inch springform pan lightly with flavorless salad oil or almond oil. Cut out a cardboard circle that is exactly the same size as the bottom inside of the pan; cover cardboard with aluminum foil and fit into bottom of pan. Center one layer of the cake bottom of pan. Brush the cake with some of the soaking syrup to just moisten(not drench) the cake; set aside.
8.Prepare Strawberry Bavarian Cream. Immediately pour about half of the Bavarian Cream over the first layer of cake in the pan. Set the next layer of cake on top of the cream. Pour remaining Bavarian Cream over cake and smooth top of the cream with spatula. Refrigerate until the cream sets(1 to 2 hours).
9.Prepare the Strawberry Mirror.
10.To serve: Wrap a hot towel around the outside of springform pan for a few minutes. Run a small sharp knife tip around the edge of the Strawberry Mirror to separate it form the sides of pan. Mirror will tear when sides are unlatched if it is stuck at ANY point. Slowly unlatch the pan and slide it off the cake. Slice cake in wedges and serve in upright slices.
Prep Work:
Strawberry Bavarian Cream

1.Sprinkle the gelatin over the strawberry puree in a small bowl and set aside until spongy.
2.Combine egg yolks and sugar in a bowl' beat until light. Bring milk to a boil in sauce pan. Pour hot milk into yolk mixture ans stir with a wooden spoon(it doesn't say so but I would temper the egg mixture first to be safe). Return this mixture to the saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until your finger leaves a clear trail in sauce when drawn across the back of the spoon.(Do not boil or mixture will curdle.) Immediately remove from heat and stir in softened gelatin mixture. Pour into a stainless steel bowl places over a bowl of ice water. Stir in lemon juice and a few drops of red food coloring. Cool over ice water, stirring occasionally, until mixture thickens to the consistency of softly whipped cream.
3.White gelatin mixture is cooling, whip the whipping cream until it holds soft peaks. When the gelatin mixture resembles softly whipped cream, fold the whipped cream into the gelatin mixture.
Strawberry Mirror:
1.Prepare strawberry juice.
2.Place lemon juice, kirsch, and water in a small bowl. Sprinkle gelatin over this mixture; set aside until spongy and soft.
3.Measure 1 ½ cups Strawberry juice into a small saucepan and bring to a simmer; pour over gelatin mixture and stir to dissolve gelatin. Tint to desired color with red food coloring. Place bowl over bowl of ice water and stir occasionally until the mixture is syrupy and just beings to thicken(do not let jell); remove from ice water.
4.When mixture is syrupy, pour a 1/16-inch layer over the top of cake. Refrigerate until set.
Strawberry Juice
Wash and hull strawberries; coarsely chop. Place strawberries in saucepan; crush to start juices flowing. Place over low heat; add sugar and water; simmer slowly 10 minutes. Pour juice and pulp through damp jelly bag or cheesecloth-lined colander and drain into a bowl for 15 minutes(Do not press down on fruit).
Adapted from Cakes and Pastries At The Academy by the California Culinary Academy 1993

Things in Batter

2007-07-16T12:16:00.001Z

For anyone who has tried to fry things encased in batter and failed, it can be quite daunting. For one thing, there’s all that hot, bubbling fat. Up until a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t even stand within a 10 metre radius of boiling fat, lest it should irrationally spew itself all over my delicate skin.
Of course, whilst fat does spit a little, notably when you drop things in it, if you’re careful and sensible, there should be no house fires, no third degree burns and certainly no horrible fried food.
And, unlike buying from the local chippy, you can control what goes in your batter, how long you cook it for and the cleanliness of the oil.
We all know that fried food is almost as bad for you as dating an unrehabilitated serial killer but damn! it does taste good. There is nothing in the world so good as biting through crisp batter (drained thoroughly and not soggy) into white, flaky, creamy fish. And the best batter of all? Beer Batter.
Beer Batter is like the Rolls Royce of the batter kingdom. Not light enough to coat delicately sliced vegetables tempura style, but not stodgy enough (and too expensive) for chip shops. It coats fish, onion rings, mushrooms and probably Mars Bars, beautifully. There is no pappy underbelly and it provides a wonderful coat of armour for whatever you choose to dip in it, protecting your food from the intense heat, ensuring that it remains piping hot and steamy, rather than dried out and yukky.
And once you start using batter, you may never stop finding things to try. We restrained ourselves at mushrooms but we gave serious consideration to bananas and then various chocolate bars. Thankfully, we didn’t have many lying around. We had planned on serving our battered fish in the traditional style, which is to say, with chips. However, the potatoes can fry up a little too sweet at this time of the year so we parboiled some new potatoes then fried them up. Paul made a fourth attempt at making some mayonnaise which was partially successful and we served the whole thing on a bed of bitter leaves.
Another consideration would be Cider Batter, a perfect medieval coating for perhaps Elderflower blooms or Courgette Flowers or slices of Apples.
Finally, there’s the matter of whose going to drink the leftover beer…
BEER BATTERED HADDOCK (or cod) serves 2
Ingredients:
2 x 150g Haddock or Cod, skinless, cut at the thick end of the fillet
150g Self-Raising Flour
100ml Lager, chilled
Salt and Pepper
Oil for Deep Frying
METHOD:
Preheat your frying oil, either in a deep fat fryer or a large saucepan to about 160c. You want the fish to fry gently not ferociously in the fat.
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, some seasoning and the beer. It should be the texture of thick double cream to ensure a good coating. Add more beer if necessary, more flour if too thin.
Season the fish on both sides, then lightly dust with flour. This will help the batter adhere to the fish.
You may need to fry the fish in batches so dip one piece at a time, making sure it is completely coated before gently plunging into the hot oil. It will fizzle as the batter starts to bubble up and then gradually turn a beautiful golden brown.
If you are cooking in a saucepan, you may need to turn the fish over using tongs as it tends to bob up to the surface.
Fry the fish for between 5-6 minutes.
Drain on kitchen paper and serve with the potato based dish of your choice, preferably chips.
Enjoy!

An Italian Dessert

2007-07-15T10:30:00.000Z

Tiramisu means "pick me up" in Italian and if ever a dessert comprising of booze and coffee soaked ladyfingers, layered with mascarpone cream and dusted with cocoa powder could induce a feeling of being "picked up", it would be this one.
Yet another one of those once-popular restaurant dishes from the 70s and 80s, Tiramisu was relegated to "plastic pot sealed with foil lid and placed on the supermarket shelf" status, which happens to be where I first discovered this Italian delight. Although several years past its halcyon restaurant days, the Tiramisu deserves to be given another chance. It is surprisingly simple to make and never fails to please coffee or trifle lovers.
Like that other Italian classic dessert, Zuppa Inglese, Tiramisu is like a hassle-free trifle with its sponge fingers and eggy custard-like sauce. Unlike trifle though, it eschews the fruit element in favour of caffeine rich ingredients. The only thing that you need to prepare in advance is some espresso, the rest of the dish takes no longer than 15 minutes. Of course, the waiting comes with the refrigeration of the Tiramisu and it is crucial, not only to set the raw custard but to improve the flavours, that it sits in the fridge for at least 12 hours.
The traditional recipe might use Zabaglione between the sponge layers but this simpler method is just as delicious. The alcohol combined with the coffee can also be altered to suit what you have available. Coffee liqueur is again traditional, but I used Crème de Cacao (a remnant from the days when I used to make cocktails - Maraschino Liqueur anyone?) instead. You could use dark rum, or hazelnut liqueur, maybe even brandy. One of the characteristics about the Tiramisu is the strong coffee and alcohol flavouring punctuating the soft, billowy cream - not a dessert for children!
TIRAMISU - serves 4-6
Ingredients:
12 Savoiardi Biscuits or Ladyfingers
2 Eggs, separated
250g Mascarpone
3 Dessertspoons Vanilla Sugar to taste
125ml Freshly brewed but cold Espresso Coffee
125ml Coffee Flavoured Liqueur (or alcohol of your choice - not a cream based drink though)
Cocoa Powder for dusting
METHOD:
In a large, clean, grease-free bowl, whisk the egg whites until very stiff.
In another bowl, whisk the mascarpone cheese with the egg yolks and sugar until well combined.
Fold in the egg whites.
Mix together the alcohol and coffee in a shallow dish.
You are now ready to start assembling the Tiramisu.
Spoon a third of the Mascarpone mixture into your dish.
First dipping them one at a time in the coffee/alcohol mixture, turning them quickly so that they don't disintegrate, layer six of the Savoiardi biscuits on top of the cream. Top with another layer of cream, then the remainder of the sponge fingers. Spoon over the final blanket of the creamy sauce, then dust generously with cocoa so that the cream is completely obscured.
Cover gently and refrigerate for at least 12 hours.
To serve, remove from the fridge, uncover and dust with another layer of cocoa and some shaved chocolate if desired.
Enjoy!

More Comfort Food for the Summer

2007-07-12T10:17:00.000Z

The calendar tells me that it’s Summer, but my goosebumps and two layers of clothes are telling me the opposite. This can only mean one thing: the unique British Summertime.

The occasional sunny days, when all the barbeque's are dragged out, dusted off and set alight, meat blackening on top of these pyres, are always generously seasoned with showers, wind, overcast-ness and even hail.
Try as I might to endure the constant flip-flopping of the weather, I have simply written this summer off as a bad job and am looking forward to Autumn instead, when we at least stand some chance of warm weather.
This has reflected itself vividly in my cooking too. Cosy soups and comforting puds have been on the menu in the Erickson household these past few weeks.
I don’t want to completely give into eating steamed puddings just yet though, or cooking full roast dinners so I am trying to find a decent balance. Chowder seems to fulfil that need for something to give me a warm, culinary hug without shouting "Winter!" too loudly at me.
Despite its relatively local etymology (Chowder is a derivation of the French word Chaudiere, which roughly means a “hot pot”, although it could also refer to the word “jowter”, old English for Fishermonger), us closeted Brits don’t really cook Chowder, preferring vegetable, tomato or the Little Black Dress of the soup world, Chicken. However, since meeting my husband, I have discovered the joy of Chowder, just as the New Englanders did, so many years ago, when Breton fishermen would serve up huge, bubbling cauldrons of fish soup, freshly made with the catch of the day. To this day, Chowder is always affiliated with New England despite there being many deviations from the original French recipes, which would have originally resembled a Bouillabaise.
Indeed, such is the widespread popularity of the Chowder that it is noted in Moby Dick and makes an appearance in an episode of the Simpsons. Expensive but inferior tinned versions are available on every supermarket shelf.
The most famous of all Chowders though, is the Clam Chowder, a typical New England version, using their local shellfish catches and almost impossible to replicate if you live in the UK, far away from where Clams tend to inhabit. Fortunately, tinned Clams offer an ethereal taste of the Northeast and can be quite a convincing substitute.
But, for those unfortunate few who don’t like shellfish, you could just use plain old fish, prawns, cod, salmon, haddock, whatever firm fish is local to you. Or, forget the fish altogether and make a vegetarian version using potato and corn. The familiar creamy chowder texture is still vivid and the corn adds a wonderful sweetness to the soup that is offset by green peppers and onions. Some versions even add tomatoes, which is more redolent of the original fish stew served up by those French fisherman all those years ago.
It is dead simple to make; onions, garlic, celery, green pepper, diced potato simmered in olive oil, bacon fat or butter until tender. Some stock, milk, Cannellini Beans and canned Sweetcorn (I used creamed sweetcorn because that was all I had and it was just fine, although you may need to add a little more salt than usual) are then added, plus Dried Thyme and whole Peppercorns for a little bit of heat and the soup is virtually ready. At this point you could add your clams, or fish but it is completely substantial without either. A quick simmer, a readjustment of seasoning and the soup is ready to be served, steaming hot, into deep soup bowls, with crusty, buttered bread.
POTATO AND SWEETCORN CHOWDER serves 4-6
Ingredients:
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 Tablespoon Butter or Bacon Fat (you can fry off a rasher or two
1 Onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 Clove Garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 Sticks Celery, de-stringed and finely chopped
1 Small Green Pepper, finely chopped
1 Baking Potato, peeled and cut into ½” dice.
1 400g Can Tinned Sweetcorn or Creamed Sweetcorn
1 Tin Cannellini Beans (or tinned bean of your choice, you want a pale, creamy bean though)
Pinch of Dried Thyme or Sprig of Fresh
Seasoning
¾ Pint Stock or Water (I used water and the flavour was not impacted in anyway)
½ Pint Milk
METHOD:
Heat the oil and butter in a heavy bottomed saucepan and sauté the onions, garlic, celery, pepper and potato for about 4 or 5 minutes, or until the vegetables start to look translucent and soft.
Turn the heat down to low, cover and leave to gently sweat down for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally to ensure they don’t stick.
Pour over the stock or water, bring to the boil, turn down to a gently simmer, cover and cook for another 10 minutes or until the potato is cooked.
Add the beans, sweetcorn and milk, including all of their tin liquids, the Thyme and a little seasoning. Bring to the boil once more, turn down and simmer for another couple of minutes, just to allow the flavours to amalgamate.
Taste for seasoning and adjust as necessary.
Add a swirl of cream if necessary and a sprinkling of grated Gruyere or Cheddar to finish.
Serve with thickly buttered crusty bread.
Enjoy!

More Simple Food

2007-07-11T10:30:00.000Z

There exists a special alchemy between Pork and Cabbage. Served apart, they are delicious, but when cooked together, the co-joining of the strong, definite flavours produces something truly sublime.

Europeans have long known the brilliant simplicity of using as few ingredients as possible in their cuisine. Not only does this spring out of frugality but from the sheer knowledge of the flavours.
Whilst some of us are lucky enough to be seemingly born with that knowledge of ingredients, it can also be learned through time and tasting.
This gathered experience warns us that certain foods are not good together. For example, cheese is rarely served with fish, beef isn’t generally served in a white wine sauce and ketchup isn’t poured over a roast dinner. However, there are always exceptions to every rule and it is wonderful to find an obscure taste sensation in the most unlikely place, the most recent of which might be salted caramels.
Even people with the most jaded taste-buds will know that some foods just belong together: cheese and tomato, chicken and tarragon, cabbage and sausage.
I know, the coupling of sausage and cabbage could sound like a nightmare school dinner. Washed out flabby cabbage with gristly, synthetic pink sausages that are more water and sawdust than anything resembling pork are the things bad childhood meals are made of. But imagine this! Crisp Savoy cabbage, dark green and rich in iron, combined with artisinal sausages that are now so easy to find in any supermarket, accessorised with a blanket – no, pashmina – of thick cheese sauce, then browned in a hot oven until golden and bubbly. Served with nothing more than some crusty bread or Pommes Anna, this is an easy, all-in-one dish guaranteed to satisfy that intrinsic need for comfort food. Thank heavens for the always reliable Jane Grigson with her wealth of knowledge and non-fussy dishes. This recipe comes from her indispensable Vegetable Book.

SAUSAGE AND CABBAGE IN THE DUTCH STYLE serves 4 with a side dish

Taken from Jane Grigson’s Vegetable Book

Ingredients:
1 Large Cabbage, Savoy is best for flavour but you can use almost any kind, shredded and par-boiled.
8 Excellent Quality Sausages
A little Olive Oil (Jan Grigson recommends using lard so you could use this instead)
3 Heaped Tablespoons Plain Flour
2 Tablespoons of the oil from the cooked Sausages
¾ Pint Milk
2 Tablespoons Grated Cheddar or Parmesan, grated – a strong flavoured but good melting cheese is needed
1 Tablespoon Gruyere, cut into small dice or grated
Seasoning and fresh Nutmeg
METHOD:

Preheat the oven to 180c. Drizzle a tablespoon or two of the olive oil into the bottom of a roasting tin and place in the oven to heat up.

When the oven and oil are hot, place the sausages into the hot fat. They should sizzle immediately. Return to the oven and roast for about half an hour, turning once or twice to ensure a fairly even brown.
Meanwhile, parboil the cabbage. Leave to drain in a colander.
Once the sausages are richly coloured, remove from the oven and drain off 3 tablespoons of the oil (the sausages will have exuded some) into a large saucepan.
Stir the drained cabbage into the sausages and return to the oven whilst you prepare the sauce.
Add the flour to the sausage oil, turn the heat up to medium high and cook briskly to make a roux.
Pour over the milk and whisk until thickened. The sauce needs to be thick as the cabbage will still give off some water, thus diluting the sauce further in the oven. Season with salt, pepper and a rasp of nutmeg.
Remove from the heat and stir in the cheeses, whisking well to ensure that they are melted thoroughly into the sauce. Taste again for seasoning.
Remove the cabbage and sausage from the oven (turning the oven up to 220c), ladle over the sauce and mix well. Sprinkle over some grated cheddar or Parmesan if desired and return to the oven for another 10 minutes or so. You will hear the bubbling, indicating when it’s ready to serve.
The cabbage will have turned an unctuous sticky brown on the underside, seasoned generously by the sausages and the sauce will be coating everything snugly.
Serve with some sliced potatoes (Pommes Anna) or perhaps a green, bitter salad to counter the richness. Thick crusty bread is an essential.
Enjoy!

A Dish Best Served Lukewarm

2007-07-09T10:06:00.000Z

Much like Italian cookery, Greek cuisine is entrenched in history. It is lovingly prepared and enjoyed with such gusto that visitors to Greece cannot help but be entranced by their simple, delicious meals.
In a hot country like Greece, the climate dictates much of the food so there are cooling yogurt drinks, spiked with fresh or dried mint to sooth, fresh salads made with sun-ripened tomatoes, thirst-quenching watermelon and salty feta. Desserts come in the form of rose-water drenched cakes or multi-layered pastries like Baklava. The Greeks love sticky, sweet desserts.
Possibly the most famous Greek dish is Moussaka. Once a mainstay of 1970s restaurants, the dish is rarely seen over here nowadays, except as a ready-meal in your local supermarket freezers, relegated to that regretful footnote in British cuisine known as “out of fashion”, along with Arctic Roll, Lasagne and Melon Balls.
Moussaka (from the Arabic musaqqaa meaning “chilled”) is a many strata-ed dish, with complex flavours running throughout. The meat sauce layer, traditionally Lamb, is heavily seasoned with Allspice, Cinnamon and Honey, yet none of these strong spices are overwhelming. The result is, conversely, deeply savoury and would work as a wonderful ragu with pasta if you didn’t want to go to all the trouble of making the Moussaka.
Other than the apple pie spices, what is unusual about Moussaka is that it should be served, like revenge, lukewarm or even completely chilled (hence the origins of the name). In fact, it makes total sense. All the flavours vie for attention when eaten straight out of the oven, when cool, they start to mingle and meld in the most delightful way – a true meeting of minds, or at least, ingredients.
And what are the other ingredients? Well, for those of you unlucky enough never to have been to Greece (that’s me too!) and/or try Moussaka, it is notable for its additional layers of fried aubergine and slices of boiled potatoes. And then there’s that wonderful, souffle-like cheese sauce topping, the creamy blandness of which ties all the other ingredients together.
Now, you’re correct when you think that this is a slightly labour intensive dish. But, it is well worth the effort and it is certainly best prepared at least the day beforehand, the meat sauce can be made several days ahead. Also, it is versatile. If you don’t like Lamb Mince, use Beef. No Aubergines in the store? Then use Courgettes. At this time of the year everyone knows someone who grows them. You can omit the potato layer if you’re not too keen. You can make a colourful dish by layering potatoes, courgette, aubergine AND the meat sauce, or you can keep it simple. As with Lasagne, you must make this to suit your time-schedule but most importantly, your palate.
MOUSSAKA – serves 6-8
Ingredients:
Meat Sauce
500g Minced Lamb or Beef
3 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 Large Onion, peeled and finely sliced 2 Cloves Garlic, peeled and finely sliced
450g Tinned Tomatoes and their juice 150ml Red Wine (optional but really helps to deepen the flavour)
1 Tablespoon Dried Oregano
½ Teaspoon Honey
2 Teaspoons Cinnamon
½ Teaspoon Allspice
200ml Beef Stock (I used a stock cube mixed in hot water)
Salt and Pepper
Vegetables:
1 Large Aubergine, topped, tailed and cut into long slices lengthwise
OR
3 Courgettes, topped, tailed and cut into long slices lengthwise
300g New Potatoes, peeled, cut into slices and cooked until almost tender
OR
Use a combination of all three of the above, using only 2 courgettes and 200g Potatoes
Cheese Sauce:
25g Plain Flour
40g Butter
1 Pint Milk
45g Feta Cheese
60g Gruyere Cheese
3 Large Eggs
Salt, Pepper and fresh Nutmeg
Parmesan Cheese for sprinkling on the top.
METHOD:
Make the meat sauce:
Heat the olive oil in a large, deep frying pan. Gently saute the onion until soft, then add the minced lamb or beef. Cook over a high heat until the pinkness has completely left the meat, then pour over the red wine.
Once the red wine has reduced by half, sprinkle over the honey, cinnamon, allspice and oregano and season with salt and pepper.
Pour over the beef stock and tinned tomatoes and leave the sauce to simmer for at least half an hour or until thickened and slightly reduced. Your sauce will be a rich, mahogany colour. Taste for seasoning, does it need more cinnamon? More salt? Remove from the heat and leave to one side.
To prepare the vegetables:Heat about 3 or 4 tablespoons of olive oil in a large frying pan until really hot, then fry off the slices of aubergine or courgette until golden on both sides. Drain on kitchen paper.
To make the Cheese Sauce:
Melt the butter in a saucepan then stir in the flour with a wooden spoon. Cook over high heat, stirring constantly, until the roux turns a pale golden colour.
Whisk in the milk, grate over some nutmeg. Keep whisking until the sauce thickens, turn the heat down and let bubble gently for about 3 or 4 minutes more.
Remove from the heat and whisk in the feta and gruyere cheese until completely melted.
In another bowl, whisk the eggs using an electric hand whisk until they are a pale primrose colour and voluminous. Fold into the cheese sauce.
Season to taste.
To assemble:
Preheat oven to 180c.
Place a layer of potatoes in the bottom of your baking dish, then a layer of meat sauce, then aubergine/courgettes, then some of the white sauce. Repeat, ensuring you end with the white sauce.
Grate some Parmesan over the top and bake, uncovered for about 45 minutes, until the top is puffy and golden.
Remove from the oven and leave to cool completely.
Serve with a crisp salad.Enjoy!

A Lasagne For Summer

2007-07-06T09:55:00.000Z

A few weeks ago, we wrote about that Italian Restaurant/Frozen Meal/Much Maligned Classic, Lasagne. The debate between Paul and I, Bechemal Sauce vs. Ricotta or Cottage Cheese, is always omnipresent whenever one of us makes Lasagne. Some things will never change.
And whilst I had stated that I would never fiddle around with the original recipe, retaining its slow-cooked ragu, I found myself bored in the kitchen last Sunday, wondering to prepare for supper. I wanted Lasagne but it seemed a little pointless spending three hours simmering a meat sauce for just the two of us. I got to thinking. As usual I had a drawer full of vegetables going wrinkly quickly. I had a tomato sauce recipe that was quick and delicious and I had a craving for pasta so I devised a vegetarian lasagne.
I have a work colleague who is proud of her Lasagne. She says it has a “vegetarian layer of spinach”. I question her time and time again on this “vegetarian layer”.
“Don’t you mean it’s a layer of vegetables? Because you can’t serve an otherwise meat-based Lasagne to vegetarian friends, vegetable layer or not.”
But she remains adamant – and proud – of her invention of the vegetarian layer.
And I digress.
My Lasagne truly is vegetarian but the addition of sautéed mushrooms (long known as the vegetarian’s meat) and courgettes (zucchini) would fulfil even the most fervent carnivore. Paul said it reminded him of Manicotti (the famous American dish of pasta tubes stuffed with ricotta and spinach that most Italians have never heard of, despite the Italian sounding moniker) but I thought it was perfect summer alternative to the richer meat Lasagne.
There are no hard and fast rules with this recipe, if you have a favourite tomato sauce recipe, then use that. It is a great dish to showcase seasonal vegetables – thin layers of squash would make this a lovely, warming Autumnal dish, whilst chargrilled peppers or slices of sautéed aubergines are perfect for the summer. You can replace even the Bechemel with Ricotta if you must…
You can also assemble the whole Lasagne (or just the tomato sauce) well in advance before baking. If you are making it the day before, make sure to cover it with tin-foil or clingfilm and refrigerate.
One final handy hint that I recently picked up is to stir the tomato sauce into the Bechemal sauce for a no-fuss assembly of the Lasagne.
VEGETABLE LASAGNE (serves 5-6)
Ingredients:
1 Box Dried Lasagne
Parmesan and Mozzarella or Cheddar for grating on the top
Tomato Sauce:
2 Cans Tinned Tomatoes
1 Onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 Cloves of Garlic, peeled and finely chopped.
Teaspoon Sugar
Teaspoon Vinegar, Malt is fine
Squirt of Tomato Puree (Paste)
Salt and Pepper to Taste
Olive Oil
Some Basil Leaves or Parsley or a pinch of dried Oregano
Bechemel Sauce
25g Butter
25g Flour
1 Pint Milk
Salt, Pepper and a rasp of Nutmeg
“Vegetarian Layer”
1 Courgette, topped, tailed and sliced lengthwise, thinly
150g Mushrooms, cut into slices
30g Butter
Seasoning
METHOD:
To make the tomato sauce:
Soften the onions and garlic in a little warm olive oil in a large saucepan. Add the tinned tomatoes, tomato puree sugar, vinegar and a little seasoning.
Squidge the tomatoes down if they are whole so that they break down into the sauce quite quickly. You can play safe and chop them up in the can first, but I always like to avoid the little squirts of tomato juice that comes shooting out at you when you pop them with a wooden spoon.
Bring the sauce up to the boil, then turn down to a brisk simmer. Leave to cook for about half an hour or until thickened and reduced slightly. Add the herbs and taste for seasoning. Add more salt, sugar, pepper if necessary. You may even need to add another squirt of tomato puree if it’s not tomato-y enough for you.
Leave to cool slightly. This can be made well in advance.
To make the Bechemel Sauce:
Heat the milk gently in a saucepan.
In another saucepan, melt the butter over medium high heat, taking care that it doesn’t burn, and add the flour. You should get a thickish, yellow paste. Pour over the warmed milk and whisk to whilst the sauce comes up to temperature. Add some salt, pepper and nutmeg. Keep whisking until the sauce has thickened to the consistency of thick cream, then turn down the heat and leave to simmer gently for about 5 minutes more, to cook out the flour taste. Remove from the heat.
To sauté the vegetables:
Divide the butter over two saucepans, melt over medium heat and place the courgettes in one, the mushrooms in another, seasoning lightly. Cook the courgettes for no longer than 2 minutes, or until lightly golden. Drain on kitchen paper.
Fry the mushrooms gently until the water they have exuded has evaporated. Remove from the heat.
To assemble:
Mix the tomato sauce into the Bechemel Sauce (optional). Place a thin layer onto your Lasagne dish, then add a layer of the Pasta sheets.
Put another layer of the red and white sauce(s), the thin layer of the courgette, then the pasta. Repeat but with a layer of the mushrooms instead.
Continue until you have used up all your sauce and mushrooms, ensuring that you end with a layer of the white (or mixed) sauce.
Smother with grated Parmesan and Cheddar or Mozzarella. At this point you can now bake the Lasagne in a hot oven (about 200c) for between 30-45 minutes or cover and refrigerate until you are ready to cook.
Once cooked, remove from the oven and leave to stand to set up for about 10 minutes or so. This makes removal from the baking dish much easier.
Serve with a salad and some crusty bread.
Enjoy!

Gazpacho

2007-07-04T10:55:00.000Z

“De gazpacho no hay empacho”
– There is never too much Gazpacho!
Is there a dish recreates summer more eloquently than Gazpacho? Probably not, for this ancient Andalusian soup is made with only the freshest, warm weather ingredients and then served cold, preferably over ice, for a truly refreshing and satisfying summer meal.
Gazpacho is the only cold soup that I have made. There is something about its bold flavours that brings to mind Bloody Mary cocktails, yet, despite being alcohol free, it is far more complex than that. It is simple and quick to prepare but the chilling is essential, the flavours need time to mingle and, like a Moussaka is best at room temperature, so the Gazpacho is best served cold, cold, cold.
The dish, although thought of as being Spanish, originates from the Roman days, many hundreds of years ago, a peasant dish made from just olive oil and stale bread. The word Gazpacho is a derivative of the Latin word caspa, meaning crumbs or fragments and indeed a true Gazpacho is still blended with stale bread which gives a distinctive thick texture.
Much later on in the 15th Century, after the New World crops were introduced from the Americas to Europe, peppers and tomatoes were introduced to the dish and it has changed little since then.
The odd additions of herbs, perhaps Basil or Parsley, a dash of Tabasco here, some Cayenne Pepper there, or perhaps the soup being strained to produce a fine broth are the most common modifications to the soup. There is also a white Gazpacho, Ajo Blanco, which is made with blended almonds, garlic and the ever-traditional bread and olive oil, not to mention restaurants turning the dish into something altogether more expensive and glamorous. I don't use garlic in my version although some do, I find the flavour too distracting from the cleanliness of the other ingredients.
I do add some chilli for a little heat, celery because I love the herbal quality it gives to the dish and sometimes a can of tomatoes if the fresh ones are a little peaky or bland (which they often are over here) and it makes the soup go further. I don’t sieve my soup because I find it more substantial served chunky but feel free to strain if you wish.
But, remembering that this is a traditional peasant dish (which far from being a derogatory term, reflects the inventiveness that comes with frugality), it is a wonderful way to use up tomatoes that are a bit past their use-by date, peppers that are looking shrivelled and bread that not even the dog will touch. The one proviso is that you use the best quality extra virgin olive oil that you have in the kitchen – bad olive oil will flavour the soup in a most unfavourable manner.
So, bearing in mind that old Spanish saying, “There is never too much Gazpacho”, here is the recipe:
GAZPACHO – serves 6
Ingredients:
6 Good Quality Tomatoes, skinned but not seeded, plus extra cut into tiny dish for decoration
1 Green Pepper, cut into rough chunks (or red or yellow or orange)
2 Green Chillis (more if you want extra heat, deseed the chillis if you want less, otherwise, just throw them in whole)
Cup Good Quality Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 Sticks Celery (optional), cut into quarters
1 Can Tomatoes if your fresh tomatoes are a little wishy-washy
Slice of Stale White Bread
Quarter of a Cucumber, cut into chunks, plus extra cut into tiny dice for decoration
Salt and Pepper
METHOD:
Make a cross in the top of each fresh tomato, place in a large jug and cover with boiling water for a minute or two. The skin will start to peel away from the cross you made and then you should be able to peel them.
Place the peeled tomatoes in a food processor and blitz until they form a chunky puree, about 20 seconds.
Then add all the other ingredients gradually, in large chunks, with the processor running. You might need to add the olive oil halfway through if the ingredients start looking a little too thick. You might also find you want more than a cupful of oil or a little less, depending on what texture you like.
Taste the soup, season (it will take quite a lot of salt), add more chilli if you want more heat, more olive oil, or the can of tomatoes if you feel it needs it. Remember that the flavours will enhance the longer you leave it to chill.
Decant into a large bowl, cover with clingfilm and chill for several hours.
Ladle into large bowls and sprinkle with the chopped cucumber and tomato and a drizzle of olive oil.
Enjoy!

Weekend Baking - Biscotti

2007-07-03T09:43:00.001Z

I suppose it’s fortuitous for me as a writer that food holds many happy reminiscences for me. The Banana Splits of my childhood, my husband converting me to the taste of freshly ground coffee, my Mums impecunious Spaghetti Bolognese and my Grandmother’s Coffee Cake. Since meeting Paul, I also have a whole world of foodie firsts: his Mom’s thanksgiving meals and apple cake, richly covered with Kool-Whip, thick fluffy pancakes and hash browns. This is without making note of Cheetoes, Nila Wafers and Saltines. These road trip essentials are available over here in exclusive delicatessens, along with Krispy Kreem Donuts, priced up to the point where they are no longer a cheap road snack but an unnecessary luxury instead.
Of all the great culinary discoveries made by myself in the US, the Coffee Shop with its endless shiny counters stacked high with glass jars filled with cookies, plates gleaming with fruit tarts and, my most favourite coffee house treat of all, the Biscotti, was awe-inspiring.
In Italian, Biscotti translates as “biscuit twice cooked” (bis-cotto) and no word could sum up the Biscotti more succinctly than that. A stiff sort-of cookie dough is made, flavoured with almost any conceivable (and some inconceivable, no doubt) ingredients, then formed into a Ciabatta loaf shape, baked for about 30 minutes, then it is cut into slices – the familiar Biscotti shape – and baked once again for another 10 minutes on each side. What this double bake produces is a hard, crisp biscuit, perfect for dipping into your morning coffee. The Italians don’t call these hard biscuits Biscotti though. In Italy, Biscotti is a generic term that refers to any biscuit, from Amaretti to Pignoli Cookies. Instead, the twice-baked biscuit, a speciality of the Florence region, is called Cantuccini and supermarkets often carry these imported Italian cookies, often studded with almonds or half dipped in chocolate, which melts as you stir your coffee with them. They are also served as an after-meal treat, to be dipped in Vin Santo or a sweet dessert wine or liquor.
Biscotti or Cantuccini are simple to make, although a little more labour intensive than the usual drop cookies. However, the dough is easy to work with and they are so adaptable, that you will probably find yourself baking them often (in her book, Great Cookies, Carole Walter even has a Passover recipe, using Matzo meal instead of flour). And, despite the initial reservation of tasting a dried out biscuit, they are incredibly moreish, particularly those half dipped in chocolate. They also have the added bonus of lasting quite some time in the biscuit tin.
Such is the popularity and adaptability of this nibbly biscuit that there are at least twenty cookbooks devoted to just the Biscotti, thousands of jars stuffed full of them in cafes throughout the world and most supermarkets even produce their own versions. Not bad going for a dried out hard biscuit.
Perhaps we are in love with the romantic Italian notion of turning something boring into something magical, merely by dipping it into a cup of hot coffee or chilled wine.
Whatever the reason, this alchemical biscuit is a worthy addition to your baking rota and will accommodate whatever ingredients you have available. You can dress them up or down, and they will always make a welcome gift at any time of the year.
Here is a basic ‘starter’ recipe using chocolate shavings, nuts and citrus zest. Using this recipe, you can switch any of the flavourings around, using dried fruits instead of chocolate, brown sugar instead of white, add a dash of vanilla or almond extract, dip them in chocolate or icing. You could use a little cornmeal in the mixture or make a highly spiced Cantuccini with ground cloves, cinnamon, cardamom or ginger. I recently saw Giada de Laurentiis dip her Biscotti in chocolate and then red and green sugar sprinkles for Christmas. You could utilise a similar theme with white and pastel sprinkles for wedding favours or a baby shower.
BISCOTTI WITH CITRUS, CHOCOLATE AND PECANS makes 3 Dozen
adapted from Carole Walters' Great Cookies
Ingredients:
1 ½ Sticks Unsalted Butter (170g), room temperature
Zest of 1-2 Lemons and 1-2 Oranges (depending on how citrussy you want it)
1 Cup Sugar
2 ½ Cups Plain Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder
¼ Teaspoon Bicarbonate of Soda
2 Large Organic Free Range Eggs
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
1 Bar (about 120g) Good Quality Dark Chocolate (70% is ideal), shaved, rather than chopped. The chocolate could be replaced with half a cup of dried fruit, raisins, cranberries, cherrys, figs etc.
1 Cup Chopped Nuts of your Choice. I used Pecans, but Almonds, Hazelnuts, Pistachios, Walnuts would be great
METHOD:
Using either a hands free mixer or an electric hand whisk (the mixture does get quite stiff later on), blend together the butter and zests.
Add the sugar and beat for another couple of minutes until pale and fluffy.
Add the vanilla and one egg at a time, beating for about 30 seconds between additions. Take care to scrape down the sides of your mixing bowl regularly.
Sieve the flour, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder and salt into a large bowl. Then introduce this, in three turns, to the batter, mixing well before the next addition.
Finally, fold in the nuts and chocolate.
Cover and chill the bowl in the fridge for at least an hour.
After an hour, line or grease two large baking sheets and preheat the oven to 175c.
Divide the dough into two halves and, using one half at a time, place on a lightly floured board.
Gently mould into the shape of a Ciabatta Loaf (which is to say, a slightly flattened log, about 10” long by 4” wide) and place each log on the baking sheet. Leave about 3 or 4 inches between the logs. They will spread out slightly but not much.
Bake for 25 minutes on the top shelf, or until lightly golden brown.
Remove from the oven, turn the heat to 150c, and leave to cool for five minutes.
Using a dough scraper or meat cleaver, cut the logs into ½” biscotti, placing them cut side up on the second baking sheet.
Bake for another 15 minutes until they feel dry on one side. Turn them over and bake for another 7-10 minutes.
Remove from the oven. They will still feel a little soft at this point. Leave for a couple of minutes until you are able to handle them. Then remove to a cooling rack.
You can then dip them in melted chocolate if you want or just serve them with freshly brewed coffee.
Store in a large jar or biscuit tin.
Enjoy!

A Taste of Childhood

2007-07-02T11:27:00.001Z

Whilst some foods are pertinent to the quirks of our own families, sometimes to the point that other people look at us as if to say “What a bunch of weirdos! Who has mayonnaise with gravy??” other foods are so deeply ingrained within the global culinary awakening of childhood that it is almost as if a worldwide brainwashing has taken place.
What child from the 80s doesn’t remember being driven to the local diner or greasy spoon and fed burgers, milkshakes and a ooey, gooey banana split or a chocolate sundae to finish?
In my case, the burger and fries were just preamble, the necessary main course leading up to the dessert. Of course, I loved every greasy, calorific mouthful, the Thousand Island dressing dripping all over my hands, and the salty, vinegar laced chips, almost too hot to eat. This was all washed down with a soda stream fizzy drink, usually Coca Cola, which I wasn’t allowed at home. Even today, I drink Coke only with junk food (or scotch), the two seemed so intertwined.
And then, once the burger had been consumed and the chips devoured, only then could I choose which whipped cream covered, sugar engorged sweet I could have.
Sometimes it was the Double Layer Chocolate Gateau, always decorated with a rapidly dissolving whorl of cream from a can. Other times, a scoop or two of plain old ice cream. Mostly though I would always go for the Banana Split, depending on who was paying. A chipped glass dish, tinged a faded green through age, filled with sliced bananas, vanilla ice cream – chocolate if you’re eating in a high-class establishment like Wimpy – chocolate sauce, chopped hazelnuts, whipped cream and maybe a cherry. To an eight year old, this is a little bit of heaven in a grubby fast-food booth with oleaginous walls.
I had never thought of replicating this old-fashioned but conversely timeless diner classic at home. When you reach a certain age though, Banana Splits seem hopelessly uncool, a bit like tinned Fruit Salad or Prawn Cocktail. Never is this more pertinent in England, a country full of food snobs. However, times are changing. People are rebelling against this food snobbery and want food like we used to eat. Restaurants no longer cringe at the thought of serving Shepherds Pie (albeit in a twee little dish), and the humble but much maligned Prawn Cocktail has been deconstructed to suit current tastes.
But how could you improve on that childhood classic, the Banana Split? Its appeal lies within its sickly sweet contours, the overabundance of canned whipped cream and cheap ice cream that melts rapidly under the fluorescent lights of cafes.
True, but how many things did we love as children but find it hard to stomach now we are all grown up? I feel bilious at the thought of poking at dead mice now but as a gory 6 year old, I was thrilled when my half feral farm cat, Daisy, deposited them on my bed, a thoughtful gift of love to her mistress. Many ad hoc mouse autopsies took place in my childhood garden.
I can’t watch cartoons much anymore (except perhaps King of the Hill and Wait Til’ Your Father Gets Home), and reruns of Australian Soap Operas leave me cold. As for foods, the idea of Angel Delight or Frozen Chocolate Gateaux or Penny Sweets do not get me salivating. My favourite childhood meal for a while, Steakhouse Grills (100% guaranteed Beef By-Product reformed into the shape a steak!) make me wonder why it is that kids have no taste at all.
But, with a little revamping, the tastes of our childhood can reach a more adult palate. Dorie Greenspan and Pierre Herme, in their wonderful book, Chocolate Desserts, have revived the Banana Split just for grown ups. Rum sozzled raisins replace the famous Maraschino Cherry and rich, dark chocolate ice cream is a fittingly sophisticated tribute to the strawberry or vanilla ice cream of yore. The squirty cream in a can is swapped for thickly whipped dairy cream that doesn’t just evaporate once it hits the plate.
But before you think that this is but a mere shadow of its childhood innocence, the bananas, the chopped nuts and – if you want to replicate our version – a drizzle of hot fudge sauce, still remain. We sautéed our bananas in a little butter and sugar but both agreed this was a step too far – the rawness of bananas is half the charm of the whole dish.
We omitted the alcoholic raisins, simply because we don’t like them that much, and Paul was craving the hot fudge sauce of his childhood so this replaced Dorie’s chocolate sauce. The nuts are entirely optional but the cherry, although missing from our version (due to a store cupboard shortage) is the essential kitsch embellishment.
If you want to recreate this simple but really decadent dessert at home, here's how:

DECADENT BANANA SPLIT serves 2
Ingredients:
2 Firm but ripe bananas, peeled and halved lengthwise
100ml Double Cream, whipped firmly
Tub of excellent quality Dark Chocolate Ice Cream (or if Vanilla if you prefer).
Chopped Nuts of your choice for sprinkling. We used Pecans but Pistachios, Hazelnuts, Almonds would be great too
Maraschino Cherries for decoration
Hot Fudge Sauce (recipe to follow)
METHOD:
Place the sliced bananas in two serving dishes. Scoop out three balls of the ice cream for each dish and place on top of the bananas.

Then, drizzle over some of the hot fudge sauce, pipe (or spoon) whipped cream on top of that, sprinkle with nuts and finish with a cherry.

Enjoy!

Omelette Arnold Bennett

2007-06-29T09:40:00.000Z

It is an accolade indeed to have a dish named after you, particularly if that dish becomes deeply ingrained within the lexicon of the modern kitchen.
The most famous of all, Pavlova, named after Prima Ballerina Anna Pavlova, is still a favourite dessert in homes and restaurants across the world, since its conception back in 1926. And indeed, the antipodeans seem to have the edge on culinary namesakes: Peach Melba (a fruity, ice cream concoction invented for Australian Opera singer Dame Nellie Melba by no less a culinary luminary than Auguste Escoffier), Lamingtons, and Anzac Biscuits (not strictly named after a person, but an important historical event).
It is an indication of our enduring love of good food that it is considered an fitting tribute to have a dish named after you. Indeed, even most families have a - slightly more informal - arrangement: cakes/biscuits/style of roasting chicken named after grandmothers, great Aunts, mothers. This fond sentiment is a way of retaining the memory of a loved one by remembering something wonderful that they used to do for you.
And of course, we don’t just memorialise the dead. Dishes are mostly created for living people, to observe special visits or achievements. Omelette Arnold Bennett is such a dish. Created in the 1920s by the chefs at the Savoy Hotel to commemorate author and playwright Bennett writing his novel, Imperial Palace, whilst staying at the Savoy this dish should be a true British classic. Indeed, it remains on the Savoy Menu to this day.
Reminiscent of Kedgeree but without the spices, Omelette Arnold Bennett has been somewhat forgotten, Bennett’s own literary reputation overshadowed by his supposed greed, or perhaps misplaced honesty:

"Am I to sit still and see other fellows pocketing two guineas apiece for stories which I can do better myself? Not me. If anyone imagines my sole aim is art for art’s sake, they are cruelly deceived."

This begs the question though, if a dish is good, should that be penalised because the namesake's reputation is not? Omelette Arnold Bennett is as wonderful and nourishing a breakfast, lunch or supper dish as you could hope for. It is briskly prepared, an softly cooked omelette, covered with chunks of smoked haddock, then gently swathed in double cream and cheese and finally browned under a hot grill. It is comforting and tasty.
The joy of this dish is its simplicity but also the symbiosis of the ingredients. The cream, the smoked fish, the omelette and the cheese are just made for each other.
If you have trouble locating Smoked Haddock, you could use an unsmoked but flavourful, flaky white fish or possibly even salmon. A sprinkling of Parsley would also add an interesting green element. British chef Gary Rhodes takes the dish to its absolute culinary (but fiddly) pinnacle by using the haddocks poaching milk and making a delicately infused white sauce which is then poured over the omelette. These all digress from the perfection of the original, but it is better to have something that is similar than not at all.
And here’s the recipe:
OMELETTE ARNOLD BENNETT serves 2
Ingredients:
6 Free Range, Organic Eggs, beaten and seasoned with some salt and pepper
200g Undyed Smoked Haddock, poached in a little milk or water with a bay leaf and some peppercorns (about 15-20 minutes poaching time or until it starts to fall into big, creamy flakes). When cool, break up into flakes and remove any small bones and the skin.
You can also use a non-smoked flaky fish such as salmon, unsmoked haddock or cod, just be sure to poach it using the same method.
6 Tablespoons Double Cream
2 Tablespoons Grated Parmesan
20g Butter
METHOD:
Preheat your grill/broiler to it’s highest setting.
Melt the butter in a non-stick pan over a medium high height.
Pour in the beaten, seasoned eggs and cook until they are dry around the edges but still very moist in the middle.
Remove from the heat and sprinkle over the flaked haddock.
Spoon over the cream, ensuring that the entire omelette and fish has a thin coating all over. Sprinkle over the Parmesan and place under the hot grill.
When brown and bubbling, gently transfer to a plate and serve with perhaps a leafy salad.

Enjoy!

Two Ways with Risotto

2007-06-22T08:59:00.000Z

Risotto is a simple, versatile and comforting food. You can serve it simply, a la Milanese, or you can primp it up with all manner of sauteed vegetables, dot it flashes of shredded of meat or fish or even serve it sweet.
Even better, you can use leftover Risotto to make Arancini (deep fried risotto balls) or fry up the cold, almost coaguluated rice in butter to serve as delicious, flavourful rice cakes.
Risotto is never as difficult as you might think. It does require a level of patience but we're talking no more than 30 minutes of ladleing stock into the rice and some gently stirring. In fact, it's a bit of a no-brainer to prepare but the final result is truly sublime.
My favourite way of serving risotto is with baby broad beans and peas (frozen of course!) stirred through it at the last minute. The bite of the tiny beans is wonderful and sweetness of the peas adds a certain something to the salty parmesan.
I have meddled with the basic Risotto recipe on one occasion only, when I made a beetroot risotto. The rice was stained a pale plum colour and it looked stunning, however the flavour seemed somehow wrong, as if the beetroot had in some way tarnished the purity of the rice. My only experimentations with risotto nowadays would be using the cooking juices from a roast chicken (which works so well, especially if you've made a lemon or galic roast chicken) or adding some chargrilled peppers or sauteed mushrooms or courgettes to the final dish. Oh, and I did make this particular risotto really luxurious by stirring through the leftover clotted cream from the cream tea at the weekend (and for the benefit of Quellia and those who are not familiar with Clotted Cream, it is just unpasturised milk that has been heated up and then left to cool for several hours. The cream content 'clots' (I know, it sounds unattractive), and rises to the surface.). This is a completely unnecessary step and was really an exercise in "using up stuff in the fridge that's gone/going bad", although a whorl of any cream/creme fraiche/sour cream will make an risotto extra decadent.
And just when you thought that risotto couldn't taste any better, just try it the next day. Shaped into patties and fried or rolled in breadcrumbs and deep fried, the flavour is somehow more mellow, as if the risotto has matured overnight. And before you get squiffy about deepfrying, these Arancini (from the Italian for "Little Oranges" - they are so named because of the colour they turn when deep fried) are so simply to make that you'll always make extra risotto just so you can treat yourself the next day.
Some Arancini are just the rice, bound with a little egg, formed into balls and rolled in breadcrumbs before frying, but I put a little filling of some finely chopped Mozzarella inside mine and rolled them in another traditional Italian ingredient, Polenta, for a delicious crunch. The more adept you become at rolling the balls (floured hands help immensely), the more extragevant you can become with your fillings: chopped ham, chicken, cold, thick pizza sauce. You can make them as bite-sized as you want or form them into balls that need knives and forks to tackle them with. I served mine with a tomato sauce and some linguini - a vegetarian variation of Spaghetti and Meatballs!
But, back to the original risotto recipe:
RISOTTO - serves 2 generously with enough to make Arancini the next day
Ingredients:
300g Arborio Rice(or your favourite risotto rice)
1 White Onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 Cloves Garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
50g Butter
Handful Frozen Peas (optional)
50g Parmesan
1.5 Pints Chicken Stock (I used a stock cube), at boiling temperature
50ml Dash of white wine (optional)
METHOD:
Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan or saute pan and gently saute the onions and garlic until softened but not browned.
Pour in the rice and stir well until it is coated in the oily onion mixture and is starting to squeak a little. This means it wants more liquid! Keep the heat quite high.
Pour over the wine, if using, and stir gently until absorbed.
Then keep ladling in the hot stock, a ladleful at a time until the rice is tender to the bite but not mushy. This can take anywhere between 20 minutes to half an hour.
Season well with salt and pepper and beat in the butter.
Remove from the heat and throw in the frozen peas and parmesan. The heat from the risotto will cook the peas and melt the cheese luxuriously. Serve immediately in deep bowls with more parmesan for grating. I served mine with some pan fried Salmon that I had doused with Cajun Spice Mix.
Place the reserved risotto into a dish and cover well. Leave to cool, then refrigerate.

To make the Arancini:
ARANCINI
Ingredients:
Leftover Risotto
100g Coarse Polenta (cornmeal) (n.b. you can use dried breadcrumbs or panko instead if you prefer)
Chopped Mozzarella (optional)
Vegetable Oil for Deep Frying
METHOD:
Pour the cornmeal onto a plate so that your arancini can be transferred immediately to the plate once rolled. They are very sticky and need to be de-stickified as soon as possible.
Heat the oil up to the point where a cube of bread turns golden and crisp in about a minute. If the oil is too hot, the cornmeal will just burn, too cool and the filling will ooze everywhere and absorb all the oil. Not nice.
Lightly flouring your hands, scoop out little dollops of the rice, placing into the palm of one hand and flatten slightly. Place a couple of cubes of the Mozzarella into the centre of your risotto patty, then close the rice up around the cheese, ensuring it is completely enclosed. Form a rough ball shape, then place onto your plate of cornmeal. Continue this until all the rice is used up. You should get around 8 large Arancini.
Wash your hands.
Now you can roll the balls in the cornmeal. Once coated you can carefully form them into a slightly more uniform shape.
Using a metal slotted spoon, drop two or three of the coated balls into the hot oil and cook for about 2 minutes. They will be a rich, golden colour and the cornmeal will have made a delicious, crisp shell around the meltingly hot rice.
Leave to drain on kitchen paper whilst you cook the others.
Serve with a tomato sauce or dip of your choice.
Enjoy!

A Low(ish) Fat Carrot Cake

2007-06-20T06:31:00.001Z

Once upon a time, a long while ago when it was still considered recherche to put vegetables into cakes, carrot cake was thought to be the cure-all, healthy version of cake. It has a vegetable in it, so that must cancel out all of that fat and sugar, right?
As a vegetable-queasy vegetarian, my Mum thought that Carrot Cake was the answer to her prayers. It was one way that I actually enjoyed eating carrots and she thought that perhaps it might help my increasingly bad eyesight too. Suffice to say, I wasn't complaining, I even went to so far as to bake a Carrot Cake for my Home Economics class end of term exam, such was my love for this cake. I can't remember how I scored on that exam but I do know that I chose Art Design over Home Economics despite having zero artistic skill. Perhaps it had something to do with the cookery teachers, one a 4 foot tall death troll and the other a 6 foot tall Ilsa-esque, Teutonic death-bot. I might be exaggerating slightly. I think she may have been 5'11".
I doubt that my over-inflated reminiscences of Home Economy class being a concentration-like hell had anything at all to do with the fact that I consistently set things alight, not being at all used to gas hobs. Fortunately, the sinks were next to the gas flames as is the sensible order of things in a school lab/kitchen.

But enough of my Tom Brown’s Schooldays type reminisces. Back to Carrot Cake.
Asides from making people feel less guilty about consuming cake, now that the shock value of eating of a cake with carrots in it has long since passed, what are we left with? Simply a moist, spicy cake that lasts exceptionally well in the cake tin and is a snap to make (aside from the utter tedium of grating the carrots, that is). If there could be one way to improve this rich, tender crumbed cake, what would it be? Of course, a Carrot Cake that really is lower in fat. Enter the Healthy-ish Carrot Cake. I say healthy-ish because you control certain elements of it. You can add some tinned pineapple for a tropical hit or you can use fresh pineapple, if you feel that the benefits of tinned fruits are nothing to write home about. You can use a non-fat icing by simply combining Icing/Confectioners sugar with some lemon juice until a thick, glossy, spreadable icing is achieved. Sure you’re still eating sugar but at least you’re in control. Plus, there isn’t much sugar at all in the cake and what sugar there is unrefined Muscovado which gives a richer flavour. The butter element is replaced with vegetable oil and for additional sweetness we have golden sultanas. And of course, the carrots themselves are naturally sweet and generously exude this sweetness during the baking process.
For added interest, you could also add some desiccated coconut or chopped walnuts or pumpkin seeds but I think that too many accessories detract from the natural beauty of the carrot cake.
I couldn’t entirely forgo the butter element though, and slathered mine with a rich cream cheese icing. After all, it’s the icing that makes a carrot cake as far as I’m concerned. Low fat cream cheese works well though – shame there’s no such thing as low fat butter! As an alternative, I have mixed cream cheese with icing sugar and a spritz of lime juice and this works just as well, although it doesn’t set as firmly. Either way, I can eat the icing straight from the bowl and to hell with the cake!
So, here’s the recipe for this Low(ish) Fat Carrot Cake:

LOW FAT CARROT CAKE

(recipe adapted from Sue Lawrence's Book of Baking)Ingredients:

150g Plain Flour

150ml Vegetable Oil

1 Teaspoon Baking Powder

1 Teaspoon Bicarbonate of Soda

1/2 Teaspoon Salt

3 Large Eggs

150g Light Muscovado Sugar

1 Teaspoon Ground Cinnamon

Grating Nutmeg

Pinch of Mixed Spice

250g Carrots (unpeeled weight), topped, tailed and grated
100g Golden (or regular) Sultanas
METHOD:

Preheat Oven to 180c. Line or grease and flour a 7" Cake Tin (square or round).

Whisk together the sugar and oil and well mixed. Add the eggs, one at a time, whisking well.

Sieve together the flour, spices, bicarbonate of soda and baking powder, then fold into the batter.Mix in the grated carrot and sultanas until thoroughly amalgamated. Pour into your prepared baking tin and bake for 40 minutes or a skewer comes out clean.

Leave to cool for five minutes in the tin, then turn out onto a cooling rack. Leave to cool completely before icing.

ICING THE CARROT CAKE

Icing 1 - The Healthy Option

Ingredients:
100g Icing Sugar (preferably golden), sieved

Tablespoon or so of Fresh Lemon Juice

METHOD:

Sieve the icing sugar into a large bowl and add the lemon juice, beating until smooth. Spread over the cooled cake. Decorate with walnut halves if feeling artistic.

Icing 2 - The Unhealthy Option
Ingredients:
50g Cream Cheese (use low fat if you want)
50g Butter, softened (otherwise you'll end up with the slightly unattractive 'curd' like appearance that mine got through being impatient)
100g Icing Sugar
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
METHOD:
Beat the cream cheese and butter until smooth. Beat in the vanilla extract, then sieve the icing sugar into the mixture and beat until smooth and lump free. Spread over the cake.
ENJOY!

A Cream Tea

2007-06-19T07:01:00.001Z

As a child, I hated Scones and I despised Rock Cakes. I wouldn’t touch milk in any form, other than on cereal. I couldn’t stomach Mince Pies at Christmas-time and refused to eat raw tomatoes and onions.
How times have changed. I still can’t stomach drinking milk and my stomach does flip-flops when I see Paul drinking a cold glassful with his peanut butter on toast. But, I now adore cheese and tomato sandwiches, I can just about manage raw red onion in a Greek salad and I made a large batch of Mincemeat last Christmas. I also have a newly discovered admiration for Cream Teas.
If you’re not English, I imagine that you would have read about Cream Teas in old fashioned books. A Victorian whimsy that involved wealthy ladies sitting around white filigree tables sipping Darjeeling Tea from Bone China teacups and eating dainty sandwiches. It’s a fact though that we no longer have time for Afternoon Tea, our modern lifestyles are so hectic that that the idea of brewing tea in a china teapot is almost inconceivable. And it seems that baking cakes at home is a dying art.
However, no matter how pushed you are for time during the week, you can always squeeze in 10 minutes on a Sunday Afternoon to make a batch of Scones, to be served with clotted cream and preserves. Scones really are one of the easiest baked products to make, just pour and stir, as easy as muffins and just as versatile. They are referred to as Quickbreads with good reason.
For example, cheese scones caused my reconsideration of the scone as something edible and enjoyable. Spread thickly with butter whilst hot from the oven, these crumbly textured biscuits are something special. A recipe that I am particularly fond of for savoury scones is from Rebecca Rather’s Pastry Queen book: Apple Smoked Bacon and Cheddar Scones. The Buttermilk element (omitted from the British version) gives them a particularly tender texture and the flavour is bold and satisfying.
A sweetened scone mixture can be dropped on top of stewed fruit and baked to make a hearty fruit cobbler, and a plain scone mixture can be served Southern style with sausage and gravy.
My favourite way of having scones though is just spread thickly with a sticky crimson jam and primrose yellow clotted cream. They taste best in the Summertime, like ginger ale or freshly squeezed lemonade, taken outdoors and enjoyed, basking in the sunshine. Whilst this isn’t always the case, us stoic Brits find our sunshine where we can and if the sky is blue and the grass green, we’ll be outside making the most of it.
A recipe that I like to play around with is one from Sue Lawrence’s Book of Baking, which comes highly recommended. Her recipes are no-nonsense and are conveniently converted into cups for those days when I can’t be bothered to use the scales. Lawrence’s original recipe is for plain scones with just a little sugar but I enjoy the addition of Sultanas and some spices. Completely untraditional but delicious nonetheless. Other variations would be chocolate chips instead of sultanas, chopped apricots or dates or figs, cranberries, lemon or using cheese instead of the sugar, with some herbs or chives.
The basic scone recipe is as follows, and I have noted where I added my alterations should you wish to use/omit them.
SCONES – makes 6-8
Ingredients:
225g Self Raising Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder (note: If you are in the US are you cannot get hold of Self Raising flour, use 2 teaspoons of Baking Powder instead and half a teaspoon of salt)
2 Teaspoons Caster Sugar
70g Butter
150ml Milk (I used skimmed, you could use full fat or buttermilk instead)
½ Teaspoon Cinnamon (optional)
½ Teaspoon Ground Ginger (optional)
½ Teaspoon Mixed Spice (optional)
Grind of Nutmeg (optional)
Demerara Sugar for Sprinkling (optional)
40g Golden or regular Sultanas (optional)
Milk for brushing (optional)
METHOD:
Preheat oven to 230c.
Sift the flour, spices (if using) and baking powder into a bowl, then stir in the sugar and sultanas (if using).
Rub in the butter until it resembles fine oatmeal. The original recipe notes that the butter should be chilled and diced. My butter was so soft that it couldn’t be diced but I managed to rub this into the flour/sugar mixture without any undue side effects.
Make a well in the centre of mixture and pour in the milk. Using a knife, stir together until a thick dough that is not wet is achieved.
Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and, flouring your own hands, pat down the dough until it is about an inch thick. Using a 3” cutter, cut out rounds and place on a lightly oil baking sheet. Keep bringing the dough into a ball and patting down again as you are left with edge bits of dough and you should manage to get between 6-8 scones from the mixture.
Brush the scones with a little of the milk and sprinkle of some Demarara Sugar. Bake for 12-15 minutes, turning the tray round half way through, or until golden brown on top.
Leave until lukewarm then serve, split, with clotted cream and jam. Or, as my mum said, “these would be great, hot from the oven, spread with just butter”.
Enjoy!

Cold Drinks for Hot Days

2007-06-18T06:29:00.000Z

I have always been a water drinker. As a child, I was banned from drinking any carbonated drinks, notably Coca Cola, for the reason of their high sugar content and effective tooth rotting abilities. My cousins were always given little dummies filled with a drop or two of Coca Cola or an equally sugar laden cordial (orange or blackcurrant) and the fact that their baby teeth eventually turned rotten was all the vindication that my Mum needed. I was also banned from chewing gum for the same reason. It must have worked though: to this day I don't drink any carbonated drinks (except as mixers) and hate chewing gum.
Of course, I'm not here to be a moral guardian with regards to your own personal intake of sugary drinks, I'm simply observing the fact that eating habits are set up in children from a young age. But, because children (and adults!) do like flavoured drinks, if you are concerned about your children having too much sugar in their diet and find the sugar-free options of carbonated drinks to be not entirely satisfactory, there are some simple options.
Firstly, you can make your own Ginger Ale. I know that you probably don't want to be bothered with the whole fermentation stage but there is an easier way. Simply stew some fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped, in a little water, add some spices if you want, strain then use this as your cordial: pour a little in a glass (depending on how hot you like your ginger ale), top up with Sparkling Water and add a little sugar syrup to taste. Whilst these homemade drinks do still contain sugar, you now have absolute control over how much. You can also add a little honey or unrefined sugar if you prefer an entirely organic approach too.
HOMEMADE GINGER ALE - serves 4
Ingredients:
1 Pint Sparkling Water or Soda Water
1 Cupful of Peeled and finely chopped Fresh Ginger
2 Cloves (optional)
2 Cardomom Pods (optional)
1 Stick Cinnamon (optional)
1 Cupful of Tap Water
For the sugar syrup:
1 Cupful of Water
1 Cupful of Sugar
METHOD:
Bring the cupful of water to a boil, then add the chopped ginger and spices. Turn down to a simmer and cook for five minutes. Remove from the heat and leave to steep for at least half an hour.
To make the sugar syrup, simply boil up the cupful of sugar and water until the grains of sugar have dissolved. Leave to cool.
To serve, strain the ginger cordial through a sieve, discarding the chopped fragrant root and any spices used.
Divide between four glasses. Add some sugar syrup to taste (everyone's tastes are different of course) then top up the glasses with the sparkling water and some ice. Serve immediately and enjoy!

The second drink is a Spanish Agua Fresca which literally translates as Fresh Water. The Aguq Fresca is a long drink comprising of cold, cold water that is flavoured with fruit juices. They are very simple to make and incredibly refreshing, reminiscent of old-fashioned street vendors, squeezing lemons into little paper cups for you, to make fresh lemonade.
Agua Frescas require very little effort, save for a little patience and some chopping and squeezing. They are perfect for experimentation and make good mixers too. When frozen, they make delicious ice cubes, or slushy style drinks if left to thaw a little.
The simplest of the Agua Frescas, are those flavoured with citrus fruits. Simply grate the zest and squeeze the juice from lemons, limes and/or oranges and stir into chilled water with some sugar (icing/confectioners sugar is best as it dissolves almost instantly, but caster works well too), then leaving to steep in the fridge until you are ready to drink it, poured into long glasses with some ice.
Other, more interesting variations would be pureed pineapple, sieved into the chilled water, tamarind paste, soaked and again, sieved and stirred into the water. You can also experiment with herb/spice drenched sugar syrups (try steeping basil leaves or cloves in some the syrup, then mixing with a strawberry Agua Fresca for a haunting flavour), or flavoured sugars (imagine vanilla flavoured sugar syrup with a peach Agua Fresca). You could also use Soda Water or Sparkling Water if you prefer a slightly fizzy drink.

A basic Agua Fresca recipe for a citrus drink would be:
LIME AGUA FRESCA serves 6
Ingredients:
3 Pints Water
6 Tablespoons Icing or Caster Sugar
Juice of 10 Limes (or a combination of limes, lemons, oranges) plus their zest, grated
METHOD:
Fill a large jug with the water and sugar and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Chill until really cold, an hour or so.
Pour the citrus juices into the chilled sweetned water, plus the zest and stir well. Taste for more sugar or juice if necessary. Chill until ready to serve.

Some variations:
A slightly more substantial drink which is a beautiful, sunny colour and will transport you to a tropical beach (in theory) is...
PINEAPPLE AND LIME AGUA FRESCA - serves 4-6
Ingredients:
475ml Water
2 Pineapples, peeled and diced
2 Limes, juiced and zested
50g Sugar
METHOD:
As with the above recipe, stir the sugar in a jug until dissolved. Chill.
Puree the chopped pineapple in a blender until smooth.
Sieve the pineapple puree into the jug of water. Add the lime juice and zest and stir well.
Taste this canary yellow beverage for extra sweetener or lime juice then chill until ready for use.

A pale pink treat in a glass, this offers pure refreshing on the hottest day. This is slightly different to the above recipes as it is sweetened with honey, but you could use sugar if you prefer.
MELON AGUA FRESCA serves 4
Ingredients:
1 Watermelon, peeled and diced
1 Litre Chilled Water
Juice and zest of 2 Limes
Honey to taste.
METHOD:
Chill the water in a large jug.
Meanwhile prepare the melon, peeling, dicing and deseeding it.
Place in a large bowl and pour over the chilled water.
Leave to steep for at least 10 minutes. This will help to soften the fruit.
Then, using the of a wooden spoon, press through a sieve into a waiting bowl, including the soaking liquid.
Stir in the lime juice and zest and honey to taste, decant into a jug. Chill until ready to serve.
Enjoy!
p.s. for those of you who have been missing the picture element, we should have some uploading for you all tonight!

Cake Down Under

2007-06-15T06:27:00.000Z

Cake. Sometimes nothing else will do. It has a child-like simplicity that never fails to win me over. Perhaps it takes me back to those childhood days when a cake was a special treat: my grandma's Victoria Sponge or Coffee Cake (note: this is a plain but tender sponge cake flavoured with coffee and filled with coffee buttercream) or perhaps the cake I insisted that my Mum made for me every single birthday: the Hansel and Gretel chocolate house. I insisted that the chimney always went to the birthday girl, a small square of sponge with about an inch of buttercream icing used to cement it to the top of a rickety cake roof. Later on, my Mum discovered the joys (and simplicity) of the Lemon Drizzle Cake, a cake with such longevity that we would be eating it two weeks after it was baked and it still tasted great.
England is a country of cake eaters. We love dense fruit cake with virginal royal icing and marzipan, we enjoy the daintiness of Fairy Cakes (although these have been somewhat usurped by the ubiquitous Double-Choc or Blueberry Muffin in recent years) and Chocolate Cake holds a special place in the hearts of dumped females the country over.
Yet, it still seems that the ratio of being buying cakes compared to baking them is top-heavy. People seem to fear baking as though it were a sophisticated French technique. Indeed, there is a certain art to icing cakes but there is nothing at all to creaming some butter and sugar together, beating in some eggs and folding in some flour. I have said before that baking becomes more like second nature as your confidence improves and don't the cakes that our mothers and grandmothers bake(d) taste so much better than their chemical laden shop-bought variants?
I am living proof that practise does indeed make perfect. I have had many disasters in the kitchen but as your grow more experienced, you learn certain pitfalls, specific methods, and your success rate grows exponentially. Remember that you are in charge of the ingredients and not the other way around.
One Christmas, about 6 years ago, my Mum bought me a cookbook, simply entitled Chocolate. I remember baking several disastrous recipes over the course of the Christmas Holiday, including a Dobos Torte (which was a clear case of running before I could walk) that resembled a stack of malformed pancakes. I did, however, bake an Almond and Hazelnut gateau that was successful if not pretty. It was my first truly delicious cake and I haven't stopped baking since.
That Chocolate Book was long filed away as it became replaced by Delia Smith, Nigella Lawson, Tamasin Day-Lewis, Elisabeth Luard et al. But, whilst searching for a Andy Warhol book the other day, I stumbled across the Chocolate book once more and fell upon it, lavishing it's dusty pages with kisses. It was like being given a brand new book.
I spent hours salivating over the 250+ pages of chocolate cakes, mousses, gateaux, cheesecakes, crepes and souffles, all of which seemed perfectly cookable. Recipes that, five years ago, seemed gruelling, now seemed achievable. I allude this to my time spent with the Daring Bakers, time which has boosted my confidence and skills immeasurably.
Whilst I bookmarked every page in my new find, there was one cake that I had always wanted to make, long before I had even received this cookbook. The memory of this cake lurks in my mind from the days when I would return home from school, hug our Labrador Monte around the neck, and then sit down to watch an Australian soap opera called Sons and Daughters. Notable, as most soap operas from the early 1980s were, for having wobbling scenery and badly written scripts, this was compulsive viewing back in those grey days of television. What I remember most of all was that when the characters in the soap would sit down for tea and a chat, they would always eat a gooey, chocolately, coconutty cake called a Lamington. And no matter how much I pleaded with my Mum to bake some for me, she always refused, citing grounds of getting her fingers icky. And I can see her point.
The Lamington is another one of those legendary foods, the origin of which is strongly disputed depending on who you talk to. Some say that a fortuitous but clumsy accident involving the 2nd Baron Lamington dropping a cake into a terrine of gravy and then into dessicated coconut inspired this cake, others say that it was named after the aforementioned Baron for his taste in headware, the cake resembling this favourite titfer. A slightly more believable story comes once again from the kitchen of Baron Lamington, a thrifty cook utilising stale cake by rolling it in chocolate icing and then in coconut to disguise the dry gateaux. It was hailed a success and history was supposedly made that day. The Baron himself though didn't like the cake or the honor of having them named after him, and referred to them as "Those bloody poofy woolly biscuits."
More fool him because these delightful squares of goodness deservedly take their place in the International Cake Hall of Fame. And you don't have to use stale cake these days either. Some recipes call for a chocolate sponge (as mine does) but it is traditionally made with a butter cake, so if you have a favourite plain sponge that you would prefer to use, then please do.
This version of the Lamington is slightly different. It is baked in a loaf tin, iced and coconutted, before having a wedge cut from the top of the cake which is piped full of whipped cream. The wedge is then restored and more cream is piped around the edges. It is a delightfully dense cake, just like my grandmother used to bake (and still does actually!) that is complimented wonderfully by the coconut. If you omit the whipped cream element, the cake lasts for several days. In fact, you could replace the whipped cream with butter cream if you wanted to go really over the top (and with chocolate cream, icing and coconut already, why not?). And if this isn't enough to tempt you, the cake is incredibly quick and simple to make too!
So, if you want to make this yummy Chocolate Lamington Loaf Cake, here's how:
CHOCOLATE LAMINGTON LOAF CAKE:
(taken from Chocolate)
Ingredients:
CAKE
175g Butter
175g Sugar
3 Eggs, lightly beaten
150g Self-Raising Flour or 150g Plain Flour sieved with 1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
2 Tablespoons Cocoa Powder (good quality, I used Green and Blacks)
ICING:
125g Icing Sugar
50g Dark Chocolate (or a mixture of milk and dark, as I used), broken into pieces
1 Teaspoon Butter
5 Tablespoons Milk
8 Tablespoons Shredded Coconut
100ml Whipped Cream or Buttercream (optional)
METHOD:
Grease and flour a 1Lb Loaf Tin. Preheat oven to 180c.
Cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. I used a handheld electric whisk for this.
Gradually beat in the eggs until completely combined.
Sift together the cocoa powder and flour, then fold into the butter/sugar/egg batter.
Pour into your loaf tin and bake for about 40 minutes until springy to the touch. The top may rise and crack slightly, this doesn't matter as you will cutting this wedge out anyway.
Once baked, remove from the oven, leave to cool for five minutes then carefully turn out onto a cooling rack. Leave to cool completely.
To make the icing, melt together the butter, chocolate and milk over very low heat (the recipe recommends a double boiler but providing you keep the heat very low and keep whisking, it won't burn or split). Sift in the icing sugar and whisk rapidly until the icing sugar has dissolved and the icing is smooth.
Leave to cool until thick enough to spread. Note: It won't be thick like buttercream, more like the texture of thick cream. It really is used just as an adhesive for the coconut.
This is the messy but fun part. Cover the cake in the icing. I found it best to stand the cake on the rack over some kitchen paper and pour the icing over the top, allowing it to spill down the sides. Then, using a palette knife, spread over any dry spots of cake. Sprinkle all over with dessicated coconut. You will need to apply the coconut to the sides of the cake with your hands. Make sure to use up all the coconut.
Leave in a cool place to set, preferably overnight (I fridged mine).
When cool, the cake will be no longer sticky and is fine to handle. Cut a thin wedge, running from one end of the cake to the other (lengthwise), set to one side and pipe some whorls of whipped cream into the cakey crevice. Replace the wedge and pipe more curls of cream along each side of the wedge.
Serve in big chunks with cups of tea.
Enjoy!

An Evening in France

2007-06-14T06:49:00.000Z

In a sort of tragic way, I often find that I'm gleefully hugging myself when I find a recipe to bookmark "for later on..." Mysterious as that may sound, what it really represents is the onset of whatever season we are NOT currently enjoying/tolerating/hibernating in.
It's human nature of course. We always want what we can't have: curly hair, straight hair, fast cars, vintage cars, summer food, winter food. (See: The Shaggs-Philosophy of the World)
It's true. After 5 months of stews and steamed puddings and roast dinners, we want salads, we want roast chicken sandwiches, we want ambrosia! In the summer we long to be able to tolerate the oven being on for longer than 15 minutes, to be able to ladle thick meat stews into deep bowls and to serve custard with dessert.
It's OK though, we know all about the rapidity that time passes by with, and as you get older the seasons start to pass by in a disturbing blur before you start to question "what happened to the summer?" or "I can't believe it's 6 months since I submerged the turkey in brine....I really should remove it by now..." Part of getting older is just complying with this fact and instead of clinging on to our misspent youth, accepting our present and future.
You're definitely wondering what on earth this has to do with last night's supper, aren't you? Well, not much really, although it is a noted fact that the existentialist philosophers enjoyed chicken above all other poultry. Or perhaps I made that up, trying frantically to find a tangible link between supper and my musings on getting older.
Whatever. Last night's supper was far more appetising than a three hour long debate on the futility of man and whilst I will always make time for Andre Gide, I wouldn't give you tuppence for Kierkgaard's complaints about how he/we got here. Instead, any pent-up frustrations from the day were spent bashing a couple of chicken breasts between two pieces of clingfilm until they clucked for mercy. There is a French name for this procedure, paillard, which refers to an escalope of veal, chicken, pork, beef. Curiously, the word Paillard (pron. pay-ard) also means to be bawdy and lewd. How a thin piece of meat garnered the reputation for being bawdy and lewd is beyond me but I am charmed by it nonetheless.
The paillard in question is served with a warm red wine dressing and Pommes Lyonaisse, and whilst it sounds like a complex dish to prepare, it was ready to eat within 45 minutes. I wouldn't recommend cooking it for more than four people, unless you want to skip the potatoes altogether (the diced potatoes need to be cooked in a single layer in a sauté pan, so the greater the quantity required, the more hot surface space will be required).
Once assembled, the hot dressing concealed by dainty lambs lettuce and peppery watercress, and then the chicken gently infusing in the red wine aromas, the dish is so redolent of a warm summers night in France that you can almost smell the nearby vineyards.
If you want to recreate this simple dish, I would make a couple of recommendations which you you don't have to follow, but which will help to give you the best flavour.
1) Use Free Range Organic Chicken Breasts. Not only for ethical reasons but these free-roaming birds will give you back so much more in terms of flavour.
2) If you are not using Organic Chicken, then I would suggest brining the chicken for at least 12 hours. Sprinkle half a teaspoon of sea salt over each chicken breast, massaging well into the flesh, cover and refrigerate for 12 hours or more. Before preparing, rinse well.
3) You don't need to use the expensive wine that the original recipe noted. There are two schools of thought when it comes to using wine in cooking: those who say use any old crap (me) and those who insist on only using wine that they would drink. I am not a wine drinker in any respect so to me it all tastes pretty putrid, but cooking does seem to bring it to life. I suspect this is where my own opinion is formed. Wine drinkers are probably on the other side of the fence. If you want to use an expensive wine then go ahead, but I wouldn't recommend buying a bottle specifically for this recipe as you need less than a glassful.
4) The salad leaves can be switched around depending on what you can get hold of but you do need a slightly bitter, soft leaf to offset the rich dressing and the gentle chicken.
5) This recipe relies on your following the right steps in the right order to ensure everything is ready at the same time. Hopefully you'll find that my method works, so here's the recipe....
CHICKEN PAILLARD WITH A RED WINE DRESSING AND POMMES LYONNAISE serves 2
(adapted from Rick Stein's More Food Heroes)
Ingredients:
2 Organic, Free Range Chicken Breasts, skin on or off
Some Soft Salad Leaves (Lambs Lettuce, Watercress, etc)
Dressing:
1 Small Shallot, finely chopped
4-5 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 Teaspoons Red Wine Vinegar (I used Cider Vinegar because I was all out of red wine vinegar)
150ml Red Wine of your choice
Teaspoon Caster Sugar
Pommes Lyonnaise:
600g Potatoes (I used white baking style ones, but you need a floury variety), peeled and chopped into 1/2" dice
3 Tablespoons Butter
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
1 White Onion, peeled and thinly sliced.
METHOD:
Firstly, prepare the chicken breasts. If you have bought the breasts with the fillet still attached, don't remove the fillet but fold it outwards. Apparently it should resemble a heart shape but mine looked more like a map of India. Anyway, place between two pieces of clingfilm and using a rolling pin, bash the chicken until it is half an inch thick. Brush lightly with some oil and season. Leave to one side.
Peel and dice the potatoes. Place in a large pan of salted water and bring to the boil. Simmer until barely tender. Drain and leave to cool slightly.
While the potatoes are cooking, prepare the warm dressing. In a small saucepan, bring the red wine, sugar and 2 teaspoons of the vinegar to the boil, the reduce the heat to a rapid simmer. You need to reduce this to about 2 tablespoons.
Remove from the heat and leave to cool for a couple of minutes, then whisk in the remaining 1 teaspoon of vinegar, the olive oil, the shallots and some salt and pepper to taste.
Whilst the dressing is steeping, finish of the potatoes. In a large, heavy bottomed saute pan, heat 2 tablespoons of butter and olive oil over medium high heat. Once melted, throw in the boiled, diced potatoes and cook for a further 10-15 minutes or until golden on all sides.
In another frying pan, melt the remaining tablespoon of butter and gently fry off the sliced onion until it is soft and golden. Stir this into the potatoes once both are cooked (I omitted this stage with the onions to save time). Season if necessary.
Whilst the potatoes are frying off, heat a griddle or saucepan until, then cook the flattened chicken for about 2 minutes on each side.
To prepare the dish:
Spoon a tablespoon or so of the dressing on each plate and top with the salad leaves. Then, place a chicken breast on top of the leaves and cover each plate with another plate. Leave to stand for 5 minutes to allow all the flavours and aromas to mingle.
The potatoes should be ready by now so serve alongside the chicken and salad.
Enjoy!

Fruits!

2007-06-13T09:41:00.000Z

I thought I would share a couple of simple recipes that are perfect for using up your summer fruits.
The onset of summer always fills me with a strong desire to go fruit picking, those glossy red berries seemingly symbolising everything wonderful about the summer, and reminding us of eating raw berries with stained fingers when we were children.
Unfortunately, the shelf life of soft berries is as transatory as the season itself and unless you know people who will gratefully accept jars and jars of jams, you may find yourself throwing out strawberries than have grown grey fur coats out to the birds (they're not as picky as us humans).
Fortunately, it is really easy to freeze fruits, you just need to lay them out flat on a baking sheet in the freezer for a day or so, before bagging up. By freezing in this way, you're left with whole fruits that haven't been crushed by other freezer hogging fruits that are demanding their own space in the bag.
The two recipes that I'm sharing are really simple but dazzingly effective, one for quenching your thirst and the other for a relaxed summers meal.
Firstly, you can use any berries you want. I used a combination of frozen blueberries and strawberries (which particularly benefit from the baking sheet method of freezing) but raspberries, loganberries, blackberries or currants would be just as good. It gives you a feeling of having grasped onto a fleeting moment of the summer when, in the middle of winter, you extract a bag of frosty berries from the freezer.
The first usage of fruit is just a simple fat-free smoothie which was inspired by the banana ice cream of several weeks back. I have been experimenting with freezing various fruits and then blending them to see what is achieved and the most succesful thing (in Paul's eyes - or tastebuds) was this chilly drink. The banana isn't obligatory and if you enjoy the tartness that some early season berries carry, then you'll love this. If, like me, you have a sweet tooth that constantly needles your pancreas, then the banana adds a natural sweetness as well as a definite creaminess and makes this drink more like a milk-shake than a healthy drink. Always a winner in my book if the health aspect is downplayed.
FROZEN BERRY SHAKE - makes about 1 pint
Ingredients:
Handful of Frozen Berries of your choice
One banana, peeled and chopped (doesn't have to be frozen)
Skimmed Milk, about 3/4 Pint
METHOD:
Throw the berries into your blender and whizz up until they start to resemble unpolished rubies. Now add the chopped banana and blend some more until roughly amalgamated. You don't want to blend the fruits to obliteration at this point as you want to retain that icy cold flavour.
Finally, pour in some skimmed milk and process so that you have a hot pink shake. Add more milk if you prefer a more liquid shake. Pour into a glass (or two if you're sharing, I certainly couldn't manage a pint of milkshake although Paul can - and does) and enjoy!

The second dish is lifted from Ina Garten's latest book, The Barefoot Contessa at Home, Frozen Berries with Hot White Chocolate. It is a recipe that I fell in love with as soon as I saw it, the simplicity of the two ingredients, the slightly refrosted fruit and the silky chocolate and their stunning relationship on the plate, a bit like Rupert Everett and Anna Falchi in Delamorte Dellamore. One is earthy and bold, the other ethereal and pale.
And, whilst this isn't entirely healthy (white chocolate and double cream), it does feel like your body is somehow benefitting from this treat. It is also adaptable enough to serve at a romantic meal for two or at a casual get-together for eight.
FROZEN BERRIES WITH HOT WHITE CHOCOLATE - serves 4
Ingredients:
300g Mixed Frozen Berries
150g White Chocolate
180ml Double Cream
1/2 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
METHOD:
About 15 minutes before you want to serve the berries, remove from the freezer and spread out, in one layer, on each serving plate (or shallow bowl).
To make the sauce, melt the white chocolate with the cream and vanilla extract in a bowl placed over gently simmering water. Do not let overheat or the chocolate might split (although a drop or two of cold water and some vigorous whisking should bring it back again). As soon as the sauce is completely melded together and is diaphanously fluid, pour over your prepared berries and serve to your eagerly waiting guests. And enjoy!

Pretzels - Not Just Airplane Food

2007-06-10T17:12:00.001Z

As a fifth generation member of the Daring Bakers, I missed four previous challenges. It has been suggested (somewhat insanely I wonder) that as an off the record non-official challenge, those of us who are touched with a baking madness, could play catch-up and make some of the things missed.

Whilst I feel that, when it comes to the croissant challenge, I might just have to wash my hair that weekend, I was all up for the pretzels.
Much like bagels, pretzels are still somewhat of a novelty in the smaller, more 'sheltered' villages of little Britain. It takes a long while for us to accept culinary change, particularly if they are in anyway associated to a culture we may not understand and what is considered part of the fabric of US cuisine (so much so, that - according to dubious fact machine, Wikipedia - 2 Lbs of pretzels are consumed every year - by every American), it could be another 3 decades before it is fully integrated over here.
You all know how much we both love Mexican food, yet only a couple of years ago Paul and I were disappointed to find that the restaurant we had planned to visit for our Wedding Anniversary (Chi Chi's - for the deep fried Ice Cream and Margaritas, naturally!) had stopped serving Tacos and now served Tapas. This is a clear indication that people still want to be reminded of the food they ate whilst on package holidays to the Med but at the prices they were charging (£3.50 for 10 olives??), I could see this themed restaurant becoming a McDonalds.
On the other hand, Mexican food is filling, reasonably priced and just as varied as Tapas, yet it still remains an afficionado-only type cuisine.
With this in mind, it is inconceivable to think that there might be a hot pretzel stand in our local shopping mall. Burger King, yes. Hot Buttered Pretzels with Nacho Dip, no.
So, until today, I had to lock away that uniquely salty soft bread treat in the taste-bud part of my brain or console myself with airplane pretzels (and if you have been lucky enough to be on a post-peanut flight, you will probably have been given Snyders of Hanover pretzels, those little golden packets somehow holding all the promise of your holiday right there on the tray in front of you. Whether this is true or not, those crunchy little morsels never taste as good as when you're in the air, crunchy, salty but not the same, definitely not the same as soft pretzels). After baking pretzels today, I wondered why I had waited so long, and it wasn't just my lack of artistic ability or not being able to curl them into their familiar shape (that's what Paul's for). Pretzels are perhaps one of the easiest yeast based breads to make and certainly tastier than any long-rising loaf.
However, like any bread that has many years (nay, centuries) of history preceeding it, the pretzel is not without controversy. Only yesterday did we encounter this. Paul insisted that, as per his Mom's recipe, the pretzels MUST BE BOILED BEFORE BAKING. I, on the other hand, pointed out the Daring Bakers recipe, lifted from Ivonne's merely dips the raw, formed pretzels in hot sugary water, then leave to prove for half an hour before baking. Much easier than boiling.

For those of you who have never tasted a hot soft pretzel, it has an almost indefinable savouryness, much like cabbage or oysters, a saltiness that is pleasurable without being wincing (although, unlike cabbage and oysters, I love pretzels dipped in chocolate). There is also a second layer of flavour that comes from the bagels being brushed with melted butter, the slight separation of the butter giving a rich shine to the thick, golden twists.

This ancient treat has roots in Germany, Italy and even France, documented as early as the 7th Century. A rather charming story tells how an Italian Monk folded little pieces of dough into an intricate twist referred to as 'Pretiola', meaning 'little reward' which was given to diligent children who learnt their prayers. There are also other stories: a German baker desperate to save his life if only he can produce a bread for the Duke of Wurttemberg through which the sun can be seen twice. In another religious twist (pardon the pun), legend also suggests that the pretzel could have garnered its unique appearance through its yeasty depiction of the Holy Trinity or perhaps the position that monks adopt when in prayer.
Whilst the true history of the Pretzel remains shrouded in mystery, this curly treat remains firmly in favour, even in the new millennium. And here is how to make them:
DIPPED NOT BOILED PRETZELS makes 6-8
(from The King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion)
Ingredients:
2.5 Cups Plain Flour
1/2 teaspoon Salt
7g Dried (Instant) Yeast
1 teaspoon Sugar
1 Cup Warm Water
For the Glaze:
1/2 Cup Warm Water
1 Teaspoon Sugar
3 Tablespoons Melted Butter (I find it has a better flavour when it has cooled slightly but is still liquid)
Maldon Salt for Sprinkling
METHOD:
Place the flour in a large bowl. Make a well in the middle and pour in the yeast and sugar.
This could be where mythology enters into my repertoire but it has also worked for me: add the salt to the side of the flour so that it doesn't touch the yeast. The salt slows down the action of the yeast.
Pour the warm water over the yeast and sugar in the centre of the bowl, and working from the centre outwards, stir well with a wooden spoon until a messy dough is formed. You will probably need to add more warm water.
Once you have achieved a well combined but shaggy looking dough that is only slightly sticky, turn out onto floured board and knead for about 10 minutes or until the dough is soft and smooth.
Place in an oiled bowl and cover loosely with clingfilm. Leave to rise for half an hour.
Once the dough has doubled, maybe even tripupled in size, gently punch down (is there such a thing as a gentle punch, I wonder), remove from the bowl and form into a rough cylindrical shape. Cut into 6-8 equal pieces.
Dissolve the sugar into the half a cup of warm water.
Roll each piece into a long, thin sausage shape, 24 inches long, then form into the pretzel shape. Dip each formed pretzel into the sugar water and place on a baking sheet. Sprinkle with sea salt.
Preheat oven to 230c (or 250c if yours goes that high) and leave the pretzels to rise for another 15 minutes.
Cook for 6 minutes, then rotate them so that the pretzels that were at the front of the oven, are now at the back, and cook for another 6 minutes.
Remove from the oven, brush with the melted butter until it has all been used up and serve hot! We served ours with a chilli, baked potato and cheese soup that I quickly knocked up whilst the oven was on:
CHILLI, BAKED POTATO AND CHEESE 'SOUP':
One large baked potato, diced
2 Cups Grated Cheddar
250ml Sour Cream
1 Toasted Dried Chilli
Spring Onions Chopped
Squeeze of Fresh Lemon Juice
Heat the sour cream over very low heat until warm, stir in the grated cheese until it has melted, then add the diced baked potato and spring onions. Stir in the lemon juice which will stop the sauce from coagulating. Crumble over the toasted chilli, add a little salt if necessary and serve.
Enjoy!

A Colloquial Cake

2007-06-10T09:35:00.000Z

In this household, Claudia Roden's Middle Eastern cookbooks are the ones I turn to when I want to make a speedy and unusual cake. Remember the Walnut and Syrup cake baked to celebrate Passover? Her recipes are ideal for those of us with food allergies or intolerances even if we don't need to adhere to some of the religious reasons that her recipes don't use those specific ingredients (for example, flour at Passover).
I have been thinking about baking a cake with apples and seeing as Paul was using up my stash of cooking apples with rapidity, I had to work fast. We were going out for a picnic the following day to belatedly celebrate my Mum's birthday so I consulted Roden's Book of Jewish Food once more and found the ideal cake: Apple Cake.
Unfortunately, Paul had depleted my store of apples by half, leaving me with just three smallish apples, so I had to make up the numbers with pears instead. Paul had decided not to eat these yet as they weren't ripe. Phew.
Many middle eastern cakes are made using a larger quantity of eggs and less flour, the eggs separated and used to enrich the flavour, to lighten the sponge and also to prolong the life of the cake. This particularly recipe was also devoid of fat so great for people watching their cholesterol who don't want to compromise their sweet tooth.
Furthermore, this cake makes a delicious warm pudding when served fresh from the oven, drizzled with cream (for those cholesterol watchers, ignore that bit about cream) or custard but is also just as delicious served cold, cut into chunky wedges.
And if that isn't enough to make you want to try this simple, unassuming cake, it also looks beautiful, the glazed, sugar encrusted apples and pears producing a skill-free 'icing'.
I fiddled with the recipe slightly to make it extra-appley, adding a dash of apple brandy and then renaming it The Cockney Rhyming Slang Cake (apples and pears - get it??) . Considering that this recipe appears in the Angl-Jewry section of her book though, it is not as trite as it sounds.
However, Roden's original recipe is the definitive version and my alterations are merely to satisfy my need for experimentation. I have noted in italics my own minor tweaks should you too wish to experiment.
CLAUDIA RODEN'S APPLE CAKE (or, Freya's Cockney Rhyming Slang Cake)
Ingredients:
6 Apples (or a combination of apples and pears - plums would be good too), peeled, cored and cut into rough crescents
Juice of one and a half lemons
4 Eggs Separated
150g Sugar (I used golden caster sugar to add an additional caramel taste which works really well with the fruit)
140g Plain Flour
Good Slug of Apple Brandy or similar Liqueor
2 Tablespoons Melted Butter or warm vegetable oil
1 Teaspoon Cinnamon
1 Tablespoon Demerara Sugar or Brown Sugar for sprinkling
METHOD:
Pour a third of the lemon juice in a bowl of water and as you slice the apples/pears, throw these in the acidulated water to stop them turning brown whilst your prepare the cake batter.
Butter and flour a 9" Cake Tin. Preheat oven to 180c.
Beat the egg yolks with the sugar, add the remaining lemon juice and the slug of apple brandy, then beat in the flour in 3 or 4 additions, beating well.
Whisk the egg whites until stiff and fold these gently into the batter.
Pour half the mixture into your prepared tin.
Layer half the apple/pears on top of the batter, then pour over the remaining batter.
Arrange the second half of apples/pears on the top of the batter in a circular pattern, then brush with the melted butter or oil, and sprinkle over the cinnamon and demerara sugar.
Bake for about 45 minutes to an hour or until the top is golden brown and the sugar caramelised.
Leave to cool slightly in the tin before turning out and serving.
Enjoy!

Once again, pictures are to follow. We have borrowed a digital camera from a friend but they haven't found the cable for the camera yet so please bear with us!
Also, thanks to everyone who emailed me their best wishes - I am feeling much better now and normal service (including pictures) will be resumed as soon as possible!

Dreams of Refried Beans

2007-06-05T10:57:00.001Z

When I first read about refried beans, I think in a book by Jan Kerouac where they were referred to by their proper name, Frijoles Refritos, I thought that they sounded deeply romantic and exotic. I pictured myself walking past brightly coloured adobe houses, my long skirts brushing against the dusty red roads, then stopping at a roadside vendor and buying a Tamale. I imagined that I could smell the hot cornmeal as I unpeeled the husk, my olfactory senses tempted by the smells of roasted chilies, my other senses enlivened by Mescal.

I have not yet made it to Mexico, unless Albuquerque, New Mexico counts, when Paul and I spent twenty four discombobulating hours avoiding long haired panhandlers, jumping at the sounds of gunshots at midnight and wondering why a struggling 10 year old child would be carrying a large box of drugs into an elevator. The only culinary recollection I have from those twenty four hours was the late-night Daiquiri Ice from Baskin-Robbins. I also remember leaving the flaming crimson sunsets over the mesas as we drove at breakneck speed towards Texas, the next stop of our journey.
Alongside my Frida Kahlo-esque dreams of Mexico, the only other way we can replicate the blazing hot sun and glazed bean pots is in our kitchen. Along with our sense of smell, the taste of something evocative can send us hurtling to those imaginary places we have always wanted to visit, or to remind us of those idyllic childhood foods that always tasted so much better back then.
I have more cookbooks on the food of Mexico than anything else and I never tire of the cuisine, its seeming simplicity and reliance on slow cooking to extract every molecule of flavour, the use of so many types of chillies, all of which play a different role. When I smell fragrant Cumin or Cinnamon or my nose starts to tickle from a generic hot capsicum (because that’s all my local supermarket stocks), I feel as though I am there, reliving imaginary adventures.
My Mother-In-Law Judith recently gave me a book on Mexican cuisine called Mexico – The Beautiful Cookbook. It is a huge outsize book and you may remember the series from your local Barnes and Noble. I often flip through this book whilst lying in bed but I cooked from it for the first time yesterday. The authors, Suzanna Palazuelos and Marilyn Tausend, have grouped the book loosely into regions, and there is a useful guide to some of the more unusual ingredients, such as Huitlacoche – the Mexican Corn Truffle (and if anyone knows where I can locate a tin in the UK or would be kind enough to send me some, I would be their eternal friend).
With this being one of the most concise books on the Mexican kitchen, it was extremely hard for us to choose one recipe in particular to cook. However, we chose Paul’s favourite, Refried Beans. My original daydreams about Refried Beans were shattered when I first tasted some from a tin. Dry, claggy and distinctly lacking in flavour, these were surely not what I had been yearning for all these years? I must have been missing something because Paul chowed down on his Bean Burrito with all the fervour of a Jack Russell around a rat’s neck. He saw it like this: poor Mexican food is still better than no Mexican food. Point taken and duly noted.
I still avoided Refried Beans though unless they were smothered in salsa, guacamole and the all important sour cream.
Some weeks ago, I thought I would treat Paul to his favourite dish and bought some mottled pink Pinto Beans. Suffice to say, they languished in the corner cupboard, the one with the ineffective revolving door that bows in the middle but is OK for holding all my other dried pulses, for quite a while until Paul started flicking through Mexico – The Beautiful Cookbook and pointed at Frijoles Refritos. “It’s funny how the Summer time always makes you crave Mexican food” he said. And he’s right. He and it seem to have a natural affinity with the outdoors, Paul clutching an ice cold cider in one hand and a stuffed taco in the other.

Like making your own bread or marshmallows, making refried beans seems like it’s best left for the professionals. However, once you scrape beneath the recipe and get your hands dirty, it’s much easier than you think.

For one, the refried element of the dish is a misnomer. The beans are first simmered in water and lard, spiced up with some chillis (dried or fresh), then mashed into some onion-fragrant lard (yes, more lard) until a paste the colour and texture of pink adobe is achieved. There is no second frying and it is merely a misinterpretation of the Spanish language that has led to this common misconception. Refrito (as in Frijoles Refritos) literally means "well-fried" ("re" being used to exaggerate the importance of a word and "frito" meaning, of course, "to fry") and because the beans are "overcooked" in the lard to achieve a dry texture this name has been passed on for generations. It is easy to see how the confusion occured - re-fried / re-frito.

Dried Beans, notably the Pinto, have been part of the Mexican diet for hundreds of years and they are justly proud of this culinary heritage, the Frijoles and its accompanying dishes have sustained them culturally for years. A more thorough and excellently written history than I can provide can be found here.

Apart from being the Barbie Doll of the Legume world, this speckly pink, curvacious bean has an incredible flavour and texture. Unlike other beans that I have used, the Pinto Bean even emits a deeply savoury smell when soaking in water. And when cooked, they contort out of their designer skin to reveal their naked, ever so slightly mealy but mostly creamy body that was just made for re-frying.
Everyone who is an aficionado of refried beans will have their own way of serving them: mounding them up on a plate and sprinkled with Queso Blanco, cosily smothered in a corn tortilla or given the cheese treatment in a Quesadilla.
But, whatever you do with your frijoles refrito, you must, of course, start with your humble Pinto Bean. And here is the recipe:
FRIJOLES REFRITE – serves 2-4 depending on stomach size (this dish easily doubles or quadruples too)
WARNING: DO NOT SALT THE BEANS BEFORE THEY COOKED – THEY WILL BECOME LIKE LITTLE PINK BULLETS AND YOUR FRIJOLES WILL BE DESASTROSO
Ingredients:
For the initial cooking of the beans:
250g Dried Pinto Beans, soaked for 8 hours and drained Half a peeled Onion
Teaspoon Epazote (you could use Oregano at a pinch)
4 Chillis, traditionally they would be.....but a good flavoured spicy type is best
2 Tablespoons Lard (you could use vegetable oil for health purposes)
Seasoning
For the frying of the beans:
2 Tablespoons Lard (or vegetable oil)
The other half of the onion, cut into large chunks
METHOD:
Place the beans in more than enough water to cover them, you aiming for a good two inches over their heads. Add the lard or oil and the onion.
Bring to the boil, then turn down to a gentle simmer. Cook for about an hour or until nearly tender.
At this point, add the chillis, epazote and a little salt and pepper. Simmer for another 20 minutes or until totally tender.
In a heavy bottomed frying pan, melt the lard or oil and fry off the onion, taking care that it doesn’t burn. You are simply flavouring the oil and once the onion has softened, remove from the lard and discard.
Carefully pour half of the bean mixture, including the cooking liquor and any chillis and onions that come with it, into the lard. Take care as this will momentarily spit, the old water on oil trick.
Using a potato masher or the back of a fork, gently mash the beans into the onion scented lard, adding more from the pan until all used up.
Turn the heat up to medium high and cook until they have dried out to your desired consistency. Some prefer them creamier than others. Taste for seasoning and serve in your favourite way.

Pictures to follow as we are currently experiencing a slight photographic hiccup.

A Trip to the Farm Shop - PICTURES UPDATED!

2007-06-04T09:28:00.000Z

Most of us are lucky enough to live near a farm shop or farmers markets. These little places are potentially the future of shopping as we know it, so we had better get used to getting all of our fresh produce from them.
And why not? Seasonal, locally grown vegetables, organically produced dairy products, apple juice made from the fruit of apple trees that grow just up the road from you. Furthermore, if you buy organically produced goods from your local farm shop, you will, on average, save up to 25% than buying the same goods from your local supermarkets so-called ‘organic’ range.
Of course, there are always those who find that the supermarket is more convenient, closer by, and has everything else you need to get all under one roof. This is undeniably true. However, just a once a month visit to your local farm shop will provide you with the best tasting vegetables and meat you can find in the area.
You do have to exercise a little caution when you go organic food shopping. Not everything is as it seems. I know, almost unequivocally, that lemons are not a native fruit of the UK so when I see them displayed, all bright and yellow in their little straw baskets, that they are not from around these parts. However, I can’t blame farm shops for needing a little bit of filler and you can often find organic chocolates, ice creams and alcoholic beverages too.
My local shop, Spencer's Farm Shop, located in Wickham St Pauls, is a great example of a long-running, locally supported industry. Established over 30 years ago as a small Pick-Your-Own fruit business, they have expanded several times, most recently opening a thriving coffee shop which serves light lunches made, of course, from locally produced food.
We had the unexpected pleasure of eating there on Saturday, when my Mum treat us to lunch, taking pity on us for having very little money at the moment.
I had the homemade Asparagus and Blue Cheese Quiche which was as flavourful as the one my Mum has made for years. Normally I find other quiches to be a little flabby, too creamy and a bit insipid but this was a delightful treat. Paul had the Steak Sandwich which, having endured many over-cooked steaks, dripping with grease and embedded between two dry pieces of bread, I thought was a daring risk. However, the still slightly pink meat was tender and gristle free. Paul’s only complaint was the lack of cheese – he’s forgetting that us Brits don’t serve Philly Cheese Steaks yet.
My philanthropic Mum unfortunately had a slightly disappointing meal with a "seemingly impossible to get wrong" Ploughmans Lunch. The local ham was scant, fatty and sinewy, the butter for the bread was skimpy and I think some cheese wouldn’t have gone amiss.
However, we sat outside on the veranda in the middle of the glorious Essex countryside, smelling nothing but fresh air and the fragrant scent of strawberries waiting patiently to be picked and the slight disappointment over the food melted away.
In the shop we bought a locally farmed organic chicken (£6.40 compared to Waitrose £8.90), a large punnet of freshly picked Strawberries (£1.80 compared to £2.99 Co-Op), and some freshly pressed Apple Juice for the locally grown Red Pippins (£2.90 but incomparable). I also stocked up on Fresh Cream and salad vegetables which I utilised on Sunday with (if I say so myself) stunning results.
Sunday morning we awoke, slightly groggy from the night before. We had spent most of Saturday evening taste-testing burgers for our Ballyhoo and I had returned home with a mini-migraine, caused, I think, by sitting out in the sun too long. We also awoke to find that the cable on our laptop had finally decided to retire itself from commission, and wasn't hanging around to wait for it's gold watch. Hence, no post yesterday.
Paul had the barbecue leftovers (which was mostly just some Bratwurst he had cooked in beer - he is from Wisconsin after all) and I had tea and biscuits. Later on, we bought some eggs from our local organic egg supplier (we were girlie swots this weekend!) and then I got home to some well-earned cooking.
Firstly, I used some more of the puff pastry that I made for the Daring Bakers challenge to make a celebratory dish for Meeta's Birthday Monthly Mingle! It has been a year since her first mingle (and it is was her own birthday weekend too!) so congratulations Meeta!

I have been eking my puff pastry out as though it were gold-dust. I just cannot bear for it to run out but I likewise cannot bear the idea of making another batch. It's just too soon!
I made a Greek inspired pastry or, I suppose you could call it a pasty, a sort of Bourekia if you will, stuffed with spinach, mushrooms, feta cheese, truffle paste and spring onions. I am not listing the recipe here because I didn't log the ingredients (naughty me), but the method, very roughly is this:
In a small saucepan, sweat down a couple of finely chopped spring onions in a little butter, add some sliced white mushrooms and a good grinding of black pepper. Meanwhile, cook the spinach until it collapes, drain and chop well. Add this to the softened and reduced onion/mushroom mixture and boil quickly, stirring all the time, to ensure that any excess water has evaporated.
Leave to cool for a couple of minutes then stir in a couple of teaspoons of Truffle Paste and crumble over some feta cheese. Stir well and taste for seasoning.
Roll out the puff pastry until it is incredibly thin. Cut into rounds, place on a lightly oiled baking tray. Place a small teaspoonful of mixture in on one half of each round and fold into crescent shapes, gently manipulating the elasticy pastry to completely seal the filling in. Brush with some beaten egg and milk and bake at 180c for about 10-15 minutes.
Serve hot or cold.
I enjoy working with puff pastry so much more than shortcrust. It always does what it's supposed to. You can pull it about and it never complains and it doesn't need moistening for sealing. Paul says it's his favourite pastry.
So, this was our lunchtime snack whilst I mulled over lunch. I knew that Paul had a tuna steak in the fridge, leftover from some Tuna Burgers he has made. I also knew that if I didn't cook it, Paul would forget to freeze it for later consumption and it would just go bad. A devilish plot entered my head: Salade Nicoise.
Salade Nicoise is a classic French salad, 0riginating from Nice. It comprises of several unwavering ingredients that make it the Nicoise: Black Olives, Green Beans, Tuna, Hard Boiled Eggs. Other additions to this substantial salad could be broad beans, sliced potatoes, anchovies, artichoke hearts etc. The more you add though, the less like the classic Nicoise it becomes.
But...I had no olives (or at least, what I did have were green and had floaty mould growing on them) or green beans. Ok. So, I'll make a Nicoise inspired salad.
And that is what I did. Of course I had to use the potatoes, delicious Jersey Royals, boiled until they are still firm but no longer crunchy, vine tomatoes, Cos Lettuce, Yellow Pepper, Red Onion, Seared Tuna, Boiled Eggs, whole anchovies and a Dijon Mustard Dressing that complemented everything perfectly.
We ate the salad straight from the bowl, two forks, watching the Story of Threes Company and it felt like we had a little bit of the Mediteranean in our basement living room.
As you can see, the recipe is fairly interchangeable and just because you are missing one element, doesn't make this dish a disaster.
SALADE NICOISE - serves 2 greedy people
Ingredients:
Salad:
1 Tuna Steak, griddled and flaked. Or, alternatively, a tin of good quality Tuna (like Ortiz or Brindisia)
Half a Head of Cos Lettuce, ripped up into pieces
4 Vine Tomatoes, cut into quarters
Half a Red Onion, peeled and thinly sliced into crescents
Half a Pepper, thinly sliced
4 Anchovies (or to taste)
250g Boiled Salad Potatoes, still warm, cut into halves
2 Hard Boiled Eggs (but try and keep the yolk a little bit soft if possible), peeled and quartered
Handful of Black Olives
Some cooked Green Beans
Dressing:
1 Tablespoon Dijon Mustard (or mustard of your choice)
8 Tablespoons Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 Clove Garlic, finely chopped
Salt and Pepper
2 Tablespoons White Wine or Tarragon Vinegar
METHOD:
Assuming that you have prepared all of the ingredients as directed above, make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the mustard, garlic and vinegar, then add the olive oil in a slow trickle until it has all amalgamated. Taste and season. Leave to one side whilst you prepare the salad.
In a large salad bowl, place the ripped up lettuce in the bottom, then add all the other ingredients, except for the hard-boiled egg quarters and the anchovies. Add some dressing and gently toss together.
Decorate with the egg and anchovies, drizzle over some more dressing and serve.
Enjoy!

Dessert was Balsamic Strawberries with Fromage Blanc, one of the most heavenly ways to serve whipped cream I have ever encountered and it is all thanks to the wonderful Nigel Slater.
Gently mixing the local cream with natural yogurt, whipped egg white and some icing (confectioners) sugar produces a euphoric, cloud-like texture in your mouth that, when combined with slightly tart strawberries is pure ecstacy. Paul went so far as to call it 'beautiful' - a word he very rarely uses.
This is the perfect dessert for a warm summers meal: one bowl with the soused strawberries, the other with the billowy cream and all your guests will float home happy.
BALSAMIC STRAWBERRIES WITH FROMAGE BLANC - serves 4
Ingredients:
Strawberries:
700g Strawberries, halved or sliced, depending on size
1 Tablespoon Balsamic Vinegar
1 Tablespoon Caster Sugar
Fromage Blanc:
150ml Double Cream
100ml Natural Yogurt
1 Egg White
Icing (Confectioners) Sugar to Taste
METHOD:
Place the sliced strawberries into your serving bowl, sprinkle with the sugar and balsamic vinegar. Turn them over in the thick, dark syrup until all the strawberries are glistening, then leave to steep for at least 10 minutes. Longer won't hurt.
To make the cream, whisk the double cream in a large bowl until it peaks softly, then fold in the yogurt.
Whisk the egg white in a separate bowl until that softly peaks, then fold into the creamy/yogurty mix. Sprinkle over some icing sugar and stir gently, tasting and adding more sugar as you need it. Gently pour into your serving bowl and chill for at least an hour.
To serve, spoon some of the ambrosial cream into bowls, then stain them with the maroon strawberries and syrup.
You will never want to serve strawberries any other way!

Some Old Favourites....and Some More That Just Didn't Make It

2007-06-01T06:30:00.001Z

I always consider these "and here's some I didn't blog about" posts to be a bit like sawdust or clip shows - a sort of filler because there's a lack of inspiration and/or time. And that's exactly the case here. Well, I'm not suffering from lack of inspiration but more lack of time. This Boiga Ballyhoo that Paul insanely embroiled us in is in full swing in our kitchen and there seems to be no end in sight.
Not only are we grilling every evening (and, I admit it, sometimes just using the griddle pan - rain, you know) but we also have a 'social' barbecue organised for Saturday. I am refusing to eat any more burger based food products and am instead doling check sheets out to our hosts and forcing them to mark the burgers out of 10 instead.
Don't get me wrong. We had a fantastical response and every single burger sounds absolutely delicious. It really will be hard to judge which lucky person will be the recipient of a 5 gallon drum of Goatslick...that's why I'm passing the tasting duties onto our friends.
But I digress. There is one thing that separates this post from a compilation episode of the Simpsons - you haven't seen these dishes before. Or have you? Some of them are old favourites of mine that I wrote about last year and wanted to share them with those of you didn't catch the posts last year (why not, I ask!). So, without fanfare and further ado, here's the grub....
1) Smoked Haddock and Watercress Tart. This classic Tamasin Day-Lewis from her Art of the Tart book comes from a frantic tart baking spell that I went through last Autumn. I am still a huge advocate of anything that can be stuffed into a pastry shell, being a carbohydrate addict, and will take any opportunity I can to make a pie/flan/tart etc.
This recipe won't be of much interest to our transatlantic friends who don't have privy to as many smoked goods (of the food variety) as us Brits and more is the pity. Smoked Haddock is a smoky, salty fish with the texture of cod but much more flavour. Brits have been eating it for breakfast with poached eggs or as part of a Kedgeree for many years and our smokeries are rapidly coming back into fashion, after a decline in interest.
Unless, like lucky Christine over at My Plate or Yours, who has her own smoker (and check out her smoked prawns and cheese for more reasons why you need to buy a smoker), you may find yourself confronted with smoked products that have been dyed (haddock was an unnatural shade of saffron until only a few years ago) or chemically smoked. This is not a natural process so check the labels carefully. Artificial smoking really does not taste good at all.
The symbiotic relationship between the smoked fish and the watercress is thrilling and this is truly a tart for an old fashioned picnic. I get asked by my Mum to make it all the time. If you do manage to get hold of some smoked Haddock, the recipe is here..

2) And now for something that looks really good but was completely disastrous: Beef Empanadas.
The premise seemed like a recipe for success: beef simmered with some gently spices, onions and olives, then stuffed into a pastry circle and baked. I told you I liked stuffing things in pastry.
The recipe, culled from the UKTVFood website recommends simmering the beef for about half an hour. An hour later and mine was still like boot leather. The flavour was boring and the pastry tough, although Paul did a wonderful job of folding and crimping the Empanadas into their distinctive shape. This hasn't put me off making Empanadas again, just remind me to look for a slightly more traditional recipe.

3) A delicious vegetarian classic that fulfils my "quick, it's the end of the month and we have virtually nothing left in the freezer" quota, Black Bean and Aubergine Chili.
Actually, I used Black Eyed Beans instead, because I love their nibbly little bite and nutty flavour which works so well in this dish. Any fervent meat eater would be hard pressed to pinpoint this specifically as vegetarian. The Aubergine is fried off and then added to the chili at the end to heat through. Any chili dish that is ready within 45 minutes is good with me.

3) Another disaster: Oatmeal Meringues.
I have been checking out this recipe in a baking cookbook for a while, just imagining how delicious the combination of oatmeal and meringue would be.
I thought I would be clever and use golden caster sugar instead of normal white, processed sugar, thinking it would give a yummy, caramel texture to the meringues. I know this works because I have made meringues with golden caster sugar before.
However, I'm not sure if leaving the meringues in the oven for 2 hours on a low heat contributed to the cremated mess that you see before you or if the oatmeal just didn't like being baked for a long time. I am definitely not going to let these beat me though and I have two egg whites sitting waiting for me in the freezer, next time I feel like a challenge.

4) Magic Lemon Pudding. The pudding that really does live up to it's name, separating from a lemony batter into a light sponge top with a tangy citrus bottom.
I have fond memories of this dish. I last served it to Paul's family when they visited at Christmas time and I recall that his brother Mark was particularly enamoured of the dish, literally licking the baking dish clean and having to go to hospital to have third degree burns on his tongue treated. Later on, he started injecting the lemon pudding, such was his need for a fix. Am I kidding? After eating sardine cookie sandwiches, you may never know the truth.

5) Ina Garten's Parmesan Chicken. Simply the best recipe I have ever tried for this long time family favourite. I just cannot get enough of Parmesan Chicken. It is simple, tasty and quick. And to a lesser extent, healthy.
I actually taste-tested a recipe for Cooks Illustrated that required a lot more faff and the flavour wasn't as good. I have yet to cook an Ina recipe that has failed me.
The next time I make this recipe, I really want to make a sandwich out it, stuffing a soft white roll with lettuce, mayonnaise and tomatoes and then a thick slab of crisp-coated, cheesy, tender chicken. I think that would be ultimate chicken sandwich.
So, I hope that you've enjoyed taking this glimpse into our kitchen, and I take this opportunity to wish you all a happy weekend. If I eat another burger, I fear that I may be hospitilised for some time....

And a Slightly More Sedate Supper...

2007-05-31T05:54:00.000Z

(Summer by Giuseppe Arcimboldo, 1563)

After all that exciting baking and curious combinations, I thought I would cook us something that uses up those inscrutable veggie scraps from the fridge, one chicken breast that I had leftover and frozen, some crumbled Feta from a half opened pack and some dregs of Bulgar Wheat.
Yes, it's another one of those 'End Of the Month' dishes that I seem to spend more time cooking than anything else!
Actually, in spite of the ingredients perhaps being a little past their Use By Date, this dish was delicious and, according to Paul, exactly what he was craving. Furthermore, it was low fat to boot!
The beauty of this kind of dish is that it looks stunningly colourful, like you've spent hours slaving over it and all the ingredients are fairly interchangeable. No chicken? Then you could flake some salmon or ham or smoked fish, maybe some duck or turkey. Vegetarian? Skip the meat and use more vegetables and cheese. Don't have any Bulgar Wheat? Then use Cous Cous. Don't like Feta? So use Goats Cheese or no cheese at all. Suffice to say, the vegetables that languish in your fridge also dictate what you put in the dish.
And if you needed further encouragement, this is also really, really quick and simple to prepare.
To give my dish a slightly Middle Eastern flavour, I used Seasoned Pioneers Saudi Kabsa Spice Mix on the chicken and vegetables when I roasted them. Kabsa is a spicy blend of Cayenne Pepper, Cardamom, Coriander, Clove and Cumin, amongst many other fragrant ingredients. And of course, you can use your own favourite spice mix (Cajun is another favourite) or just plain old salt and pepper.
Because this dish without a name is effectively a warm salad, it needed a dressing, which is where the roasting juices come into their own. If you have used a spice mix when roasting your chicken and vegetables, pour the naturally flavoursome juices over the final dish before serving - it improves the flavour 100%.
If you have some flaccid vegetables that need using up before they walk out of the fridge and start a riot of their own, here's how to prepare this dish.
FREYA'S ROAST CHICKEN AND VEGETABLE BULGAR WHEAT BONANZA
Serves 2 generously
Ingredients:
250g Bulgar Wheat or Cous Cous
2 Chicken Breasts (or some leftover cooked chicken). I always use Skin-on chicken which is getting increasingly harder to find over here, but it does have much more flavour.
Selection of vegetables suitable for roasting, i.e. courgette (zucchini), carrot, asparagus, red onion, garlic, peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes, squash - cut into chunks
Spice Mix of your choice, I used Kabsa
Olive Oil
Vegetable Stock
100g Feta Cheese or similar crumbly, creamy cheese
Spring Onions and Parsley to Finish
METHOD:
If you are using leftover cooked chicken skip this step. If you are using raw chicken breasts, preheat oven to 200c.
In a large roasting tin, pour 3-4 tablespoons of olive oil and mix with a couple of tablespoons of your spice mix. Place in the hot oven whilst you chop the vegetables.
Toss the vegetables into the hot, spicy oil, season with a little salt and pepper (if you feel your mix isn't that salty) and roast until tender. This can take between 30-40 minutes, depending on the vegetables used.
Meanwhile, place the chicken breasts in a sandwich bag with 2 tablesoons olive oil and about a couple of teaspoons of your spice rub. Smoosh the chicken all around so that it is well coated in the oily, fragrant spices.
Remove from the bag and place in a small roasting tin, making sure to squeeze all the oil and spices left in the bag all over the chicken. You should put the chicken in the oven about half way through the vegetable cooking time.
Roast for about 15 minutes or until cooked to perfection. Remove from the oven, cover with foil and leave to stand.
Whilst the chicken is roasting, prepare the Cous Cous or Bulgar Wheat as per the packet instructions. I usually use a chicken or vegetable stock cube dissolved in boiling hot water poured over the fluffy grains to give them more flavour.
Assembling the dish:
Once the Bulgar or Cous Cous is fluffed and has absorbed all the stock, tip the deliciously roasted and slightly charred in places vegetables over the top and toss gently with a fork.
Cut the chicken in to generous chunks and add that.
Pour over the juices from both roasting pans, then crumble over the feta.
Give a final, all amalgamating forking, sprinkle over some chopped spring onions and parsley (or herbs of your choice) and serve!
Enjoy!

Freya's First Time...

2007-05-29T19:26:00.001Z

Almost inconceivable isn't it? A member of the Daring Bakers who has completed three of challenges with mixed results (remember my Red Velvet Cake? Apparently Petroleum BP are interested in my recipe - they're looking for a new type of impermeable rubber for car tyres) who hasn't cooked one thing for Dorie Greenspan's From my Home to Yours.

It's not that the recipes were difficult or didn't appeal to me, far from it. I was just having problems deciding which recipe to make. Dorie's easy, friendly style makes even the most complicated looking cake seem achievable. Missing some of the ingredients? Dorie gives us side-bar options and encourages us to experiment with her recipes to find results that suit us.
From My Home to Yours has captured the imagination of the baking sector of the food bloggers like no other book. A google search for Dorie Blog Recipes brings up more than 77000 results, and not all of these lead back to her own personal blog.
Us Brits haven't embraced baking in the same way as Americans (or Canadians). Perhaps it's too easy to buy sub-par cakes from the local supermarket or over-priced pastries from the local bakery. The real truth is, the more you bake, the easier it becomes. And, if, like us, you have a small family, most cookies or muffins can be frozen for future snacking. Furthermore, for the price of a box of cakes from the bakery, you can buy the foundation ingredients for several dozen more sweet treats.
It is my experience through speaking with inexperienced cooks (and it must be something in the water - the only people I have ever spoken to who share my passion for baking and cooking in general have been online.) that they feel baking is an insurmountable challenge or a relic from the 1950s - and one that should stay in museums. This is a pity because making a batch of cookies or muffins is so easy that even young children can do it. Not only this, you can control exactly what goes into your recipes: no preservatives, no colourings (Red Velvet Cake excepted), no hidden baddies. You can sneak healthy things into baking that taste delicious but that would otherwise be shunned by fussy children. The Carrot Cake is a perfect example.
But, I'm not here to proselytise about baking, those who want to bake will do so, those who don't, won't and they won't be here reading my tirade anyway. They'll probably be at the gym.
What you want to to know is what I finally decided to cook from Dorie's Magnum Opus, right?
Don't get too excited. The pictures are fairly obvious visual clues. It was something quick but delicious. And versatile, as my illustrations indicate. Dulce de Leche Duos.
I love Dulce de Leche. The day I first discovered a tin of it, in the Mexican grocery section of a supermarket in LaCrosse, was the day my world changed. I have never been a huge fan of caramel, finding it too chewy and teeth-hurty, plus it always gave me stomach ache (which is also the reason I don't eat penny sweets, although inflation has guaranteed that penny sweets are now 5 penny sweets). You will never find me sucking a toffee. But, I am a sucker for anything unusual in a tin and couldn't resist this: La Lechera Dulce de Leche, produced by Nestle.
When I got back home, I used this tin of thick, sticky, slightly bitter, slightly milky but very sweet tasting tanned goodness on a banoffi pie. I have also made my own Dulce de Leche, which is incredibly simple but requires a keen eye and four hours patience. It is a lot quicker to pop out to the local supermarket and buy your own. If you do want to make your own, simply boil an unopened can of Evaporated Milk in a large pan of water for four hours, making sure the pan never runs dry, lest the can should explode, spraying your kitchen and innocent standbys with scalding hot, sticky caramel.

I know, I know. Now I'm waffling. Back to Dorie and her Dulce Duos. I have a love/hate relationship with American cookies (biscuits). They are usually too soft for my liking and when I visit the US, I have to bring my own secret stash of Digestives or Bourbons (like a nicer version of Oreos, sans the whiskey content, alas) so I don't feel too homesick. To me, a soft cookie (biscuit) means a stale cookie (biscuit) and only fit for the consumption of my husband, who, being American, loves soft cookies (biscuits). I have a sneaking suspicion that he leaves half opened packets of cookies (biscuits) laying around deliberately, so that they go stale.

When I bake cookies (biscuits) from an American cookbook, I always cook them for several minutes longer than recommended so that they become crisp and crumbly. I took a risk with Dorie's recipe though and trusted her when she said that this these slightly soft, cakey biscuits are perfect when sandwiched with a rich filling. And after all, didn't I almost overcome my soft biscuit phobia the day I bit into a Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Sandwich?

Dulce de Leche Duos are easy to make but taste (and smell) sensational. Butter creamed with sugar (two types!), mixed with some Dulce de Leche, eggs and flour, dropped in small heaps and baked until softly golden. These are not healthy biscuits, particularly when sandwiched with something equally rich, but they do make a wonderful treat and if you freeze them in pairs, you have a little something to look forward to if you're feeling like you just have to have something sweet now! Besides, the taste of raw batter alone is worth the price of a tin of Dulce de Leche. And the smell when you open the oven door is just wow!
I experimented with various fillings to try and find the best combination. Paul's favourite was Peanut Butter and Jam. I also tried some of the leftover frozen Diplomat Cream which tasted great but looked like lard for some reason! Some of my other experimentations were not as successful but I've shared them here with you today to give you some inspiration....enjoy!

DULCE DE LECHE DUOS - makes 60
Taken from Dorie Greenbergs Baking from My Home to Yours
Ingredients:
2.5 Cups Plain Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1/4 Teaspoon Salt
8 ozs (2 sticks) butter, at room temperature
3/4 Cup Dulce de Leche (use shop bought for this recipe)
3/4 Cup Light Brown Sugar
1/2 Cup Caster Sugar
2 Large Eggs
METHOD:
Line 2 large baking sheets with greaseproof paper.
Preheat oven to 175c.
Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt and leave to one side.
In a large bowl, using your standalone mixer or (in my case) an electric hand whisk, mix the butter until it becomes softened and splattered all over the bowl. Scrape it down and add the sugars and Dulce de Leche. Mix until pale and fluffy, a couple of minutes.
Add the eggs, one at a time and beat for a minute after each addition.
The mixture will look split and curdled but this doesn't matter.
Add the flour in about three additions mixing each addition only until it has been absorbed. No more or you will overwork the mixture and get tough cookies (ha!).
Using a teaspoon or a small cookie scoop, drop spoonfuls onto your prepared sheets, leaving two inches between them. They spread out - a lot.
Cook for 10-12 minutes, turning the sheets around in the oven halfway through, until they are honey coloured but still soft to the touch. Leave to cool for a couple of minutes, then carefully remove to a cooling rack, using a spatula.
Serve as they are, stuffed with ice cream or spread with more Dulce de Leche or any filling of your choice.

Stuck Between Breakfast and Lunch

2007-05-28T10:10:00.000Z

Regular readers are probably aware of our ethos, but if you’re just surfing in from GOOGLE or www.bringbackdawsonscreekormywifewillbeunbearable.com, I should probably put things in context for you. For without understanding our methodology it is easy to move on down the road looking for something a bit more flashy and a bit less candid. This isn’t a criticism of those places, we certainly visit them frequently, rather, this is a companion to those sites. A stripped down sucker punch showing the readers our life in a very real way, without a façade of glamour (we wouldn’t know how to start), without theatrical staging (we don’t have the room), and without the hair and make-up (my hair is thinning rapidly and Freya has delicate skin).

There have been occasions when we’ve considered censoring ourselves and not revealing so much about what makes us tick, but this just isn’t our thing. We’ve written things in our blog, which may be considered unrelated to food and the food community and wondered sometimes how many people will be alienated by those revelations. It’s true that we may have scared a few readers away with this approach, but we’ve decided that the benefits of integrity far outweigh the trappings of popularity. This is the reason that regular readers have learned that we would rather watch films about junkies than a romantic comedy, that we enjoy music that most people consider un-listenable, that our taste in literature is somewhat eclectic, and that our heroes are all nihilistic, reprehensible, or, at least, a bit naughty.

All of this runs somewhat perpendicular to the demographic of our core readership. There are exceptions, Jeff from C for Cooking, for instance, is a bit freaky. But fortunately for us, we’ve slowly captured an audience who have come to see us as we would like to be seen, loveable eccentrics pursuing a purity in the kitchen, which will hopefully negate the deeply disturbing aspects of all other outlets in our shared life.

So where is all of this leading to you ask? That’s simple and probably a bit unrelated, but I’ll figure an angle before this post is through, don’t you worry about that. It’s yet another meme! Yes, we’ve done tonnes of these things and yes, they do provide necessary filler material for bloggers, you’re probably one yourself, who occasionally can’t be motivated to cook and write about food. There’s nothing wrong with this. Nobody can be expected to be “on” all the time. We barely make it through each week even sharing the duty (well, I’ve kind of been muscled out of the kitchen by Freya, but that’s not for here). This meme is different though. It is food related and cooking related and even eating related. It’s the Sunday Brunch Meme!

We were presented with this challenge by Gattina at Kitchen Unplugged and were happy to accept it knowing full well that the answers may surprise people. The rules are simple, “Create a post (on your blog/site) that speaks about your typical Sunday (holiday or free day, also accepted) breakfast/brunch. Take pictures of your table and write about it.” Freya decided this was best handled by my department as I’m generally in charge of Sunday cooking. That’s cool with me, I love Sundays and this one was extra special since it was a bank holiday weekend and we have Monday off!

So, I got up bright and early to get two little quails out of the freezer. I took them downstairs and pulled out the few stalks of feathers that poked out here and there. I put a pan of water on the stove and dropped the tiny birds in waiting for the water to boil. As the quail was cooking, I put some White Leicester cheese and a carrot in the food processor along with some left-over spaghetti I was saving just for this meal. I let the quail cool down and removed the biggest bones from the birds and dropped them into the processor as well. I then pulsed the whole lot briefly until it formed a frappe, scooped the finished product into bowls, called the dogs and enjoyed watching them devour their breakfast. Next, I went back to bed.

This is the greatest part of the week for me. The only window in a seven day week when we’ve got no responsibilities and no place to be and the dogs are otherwise occupied and not trying to effect a schism between Freya and me. It’s the only time in the week when we can cuddle up without being growled at or prodded by paws. We revel in this moment when nothing can invade our microcosm.

Time progresses, the news is still war and death, the True Movie Channel loses some appeal, the smell of the neighbours roast dinner is wafting through the inevitable cracks in a Victorian terrace house wall, and we fight temptation to quit our jobs and live every day like this. Finally, I get up and start making brunch, although it is technically, lupper, to use a Homer Simpsonism. Freya has home made chips liberally sprinkled with sea-salt and vinegar from the jar of pickled onions she made last autumn along with two fried organic eggs, preferably baby bantam eggs. I fry some very good organic streaky bacon, reserving the fat to cook the hashbrowns in. Bread goes in the toaster, eggs go in the pan. I always have my eggs over-easy. I eat out of a baking dish because it’s the most accessible. It’s now 8PM. So, what makes this brunch you ask? We’ve only been up since 6.

And that’s where the connection is. This is our shared life. We could have laid out lobster Thermidor and champagne with blinis and caviar and little melon balls and told you that this is our Sunday brunch. We may still do that one day. But we would rather just live our life in full view of our dear friends and visitors who come back for seconds and thirds and whose patronage we greatly appreciate.

I've been to the original brunch post and haven't seen any rules about how many people I'm supposed to pass this on to. So, let's think, who can I tag?
1. Amanda and family at the Little Foodie - she is on a multi-cultural-culinary-crusade so I'm sure weekend brunch in her household is never boring!
2. Katie from Thyme for Cooking - a fellow Wisconsonsite will always eat well for Brunch!
3. Passionate Eater who, asides for being a Milli Vanilli fan, is usually cooking up something interesting!

P.S. Here's a new picture of Max for my brother and sister-in-law who have been missing the little guy.

Daring Bakers III - The Bakers Bite Back

2007-05-26T18:14:00.000Z

After the almost crippling Martha Stewart Crepe Cake of last month, that monstrous creation that nearly brought so many of us to our knees, this month's challenge seemed to be a walk in the park.
I mean, it comprised merely of homemade puff pastry, a cooked patisserie cream and choux pastry, not to mention a demonstration of our piping skills and confidence with molten sugar. This could never be as infuriating, as exasperating and as disappointing as Martha's Cake.
However, this month's challenge, chosen by pastry chef extraordinaire, Helene, was always going to be something fantastical: Gateau Saint Honore.
And of course, Gateau Saint Honore is a traditional French cake, made as a somewhat fitting tribute to Saint Honore himself, the Patron Saint of Pastry Bakers. And as I've already mentioned, this gateau really does pull out all the stops. As, I suppose, you would expect the Patron Saint of Pastry Bakings' very own gateau to do. Since Saint Honore was the seventh bishop of French City Amiens during the 6th Century AD, one can only assume that their primitive bakeries were fantastical places to visit, much as they are today. And, although the bishops honorary gateau was supposedly not devised until the mid-18th Century, I wonder how many of the techniques utilised were of his invention? It is thrilling to imagine people eating caramel coated creme puffs during the time of Smallpox (according to Wikipedia, not much else happened in 600AD, other than the Persians beginning to use windmills for irrigation and Chess first being played) and Vandalism.
But I digress. I have never made puff pastry before, having never had a reason too. I have always found bought puff pastry to be oily and too puffy, it splinters into all of those tiny, wafer thin shards that stick to your clothes and your teeth. Most bought puff pastry is not even made with real butter. So, this was my first challenge.
Making Puff Pastry is a simple but somewhat tedious procedure. It is necessary for you to start in the morning due to it's SIX HOUR resting period which is interspersed with rollings and turnings. I, of course, chose to start it at 3pm. Fortunately, there was plenty of TV (although I am still mourning the end of Dawson's Creek and praying for the new series of America's Next Top Model - yes, it's intellectual viewing for me all the way) and Challah to be getting on with.
Slightly alarmed at the rapidity with which some of my fellow bakers had produced their Gateaux, I thought I should probably get a wiggle on and start the pastry, to be followed a few days later by the cream.
Ah yes, Diplomat Cream. An incredibly rich filling for the choux buns, made with flour, eggs (separated and the whites whisked to concrete stiffness), sugar, milk, double cream and vanilla extract. It is as luxurious as you might expect, although mine turned a slightly disconcerting shade of grey whilst languishing in the fridge for a couple of days. The strict notes we were given were "no chocolate, no coffee - this must remain white" - I did try Helene, honestly!
Today was the final assembly of the cake. This entailed making the choux buns, piping them full of the delicious Diplomat Cream and then dipping them in caramel.
Choux Pastry is incredibly easy and I had no qualms about this element at all. And for anyone who thinks that they can't make profiteroles at home or even a ramshackle Croquembouche - you can! It is much easier to work with than normal pastry. None of that tedious kneading and rolling and worrying that it might crack or you might get a soggy bottom (on your pie, saucy!). You just need to be good with the wooden spoon and have enough brain cells to squeeze a piping bag. And Paul and I are living, working proof of this.
One place where I became unstuck (or rather stuck in this case) was dipping my filled choux buns in the molten, hotter than Venus caramel. I got a little cocksure, so to speak, and instead of using the recommended tongs, I used my fingers. I now have a big, puffy, blistery thumb and first finger. And believe me, if you don't want to incur a hot caramel burn, you'll be smart and follow directions. It really does hurt. I surely empathise with those poor victims of the Boston Molasses Flood of 1919. I can only imagine what it must be like inhaling scorching molasses into your lungs.
But enough doom and gloom. Finally, the gateau is assembled. The gateau looks a little tottery, dilapidated and rickety. But it's my tottering, dilapidated, rickety gateau and I am as proud as hell of it.
Oh, the flavour? Imagine ordering the most outrageous dessert on the menu at an upper class restaurant. Now, forget all that. What would you expect this to taste like? It's puff pastry, choux pastry, vanilla patisserie cream and whipped cream and crunchy caramel. Each mouthful is like a thousand tiny bursts of sugar on your tongue, subdued only minutely by the crisp pastries. And each mouthful leaves you wanting more until your stomach begs you no more. A wholly satisfying dessert that has left me feeling proud for making my own puff pastry and diplomat cream.

For the Daring Bakers, the sky is the limit!
Oh, and if you're feeling daring yourself, click here for the recipe in full and a rundown of all the other gals who took part!

Another Way to Serve Macaroni Cheese...

2007-05-24T10:38:00.000Z

....Or this weeks Presto Pasta entry.

I have yet to meet someone who dislikes Macaroni Cheese. However, it can be a little bland, a little too sloppy, a little too dry, not enough cheese etc.
My husband makes a great Mac and Cheese, which I allude entirely to his secret cheese sauce recipe. I know his secret ingredient but I’m not spilling the beans....yet.
When I make Macaroni Cheese, I am never quite satisfied with the results, so I am on a permanent perfect pasta quest. Luckily there is lots of inspiration available online, through other food bloggers and in cookbooks. It would appear that Mac and Cheese captures our imagination in a way that can only be rivalled by Hamburgers.
My mum recalls a story about when I was very young. She would feed me macaroni cheese and I would suck all the sauce from the tubes which I would then feed to our black Labrador, Monty.
This isn’t the only Macaroni Cheese (from here onwards referred to as MC) story. Another time, my cousin Stuart poured a whole container of salt onto my MC and dared me to eat it. Bravely or stupidly (I favour the latter), I ate quite a substantial amount and then promptly regurgitated it, Linda Blair style.
Fortunately for those around me, my table manners have improved considerably, as has my intake of salt, but I still love the soft, gentle creaminess of MC. It is one of the first ‘solid' foods that many of us eat, along with sweetcorn, and for this reason I think we hold it close to our hearts – and even closer to our stomachs. Our first baby steps towards eating true, grown up foods.

Whilst surfing the UKTVFood website looking for ways to use up my cauliflower (and here's what I did with the rest of it), I came across this recipe for a posh version of MC. Now, this seems to me to be a contradiction in terms. Of all things, MC is not posh. It is homely, cosy, comforting, simple...but it is not posh or sophisticated or edgy.

However, there was something in the recipe that grabbed me. It wasn't that it was served in filo cups - pointless and frou frou. Nor was it the final sprinkling of chilli and coriander - seems like an afterthought to me. In fact it was the simple addition of some boiled cauliflower and a non-roux based sauce that won my heart. I had very few of the ingredients required so I reworked the whole dish, and stealing inspiration from Ina Garten's recipe for Chicken with Biscuits, used up some homemade puff pastry ("What??? You made homemade puff pastry? Why haven't we been informed of this development in your ongoing cooking skills?" All in good time is all I have to say right now) and came up with this Macaroni Cheese with Cauliflower and Puff Pastry. (Oh, and I do realise that biscuits aren't made with puff pastry - it's a visual thing).

It is a great way to use up any leftover cauliflower (and you could use other vegetables too, carrots, broccoli, green beans), scraps of pastry (which I always freeze for occasions such as this) and if you find you don't quite have enough pasta. In fact, I used small and large Macaroni tubes. Furthermore, the original recipe requires a melting cheese like Gruyere as the base for the sauce, I completely ignored this and used dried up nub ends of Cheddar, White Leicester and some Parmesan. I would think that you could use almost any combination of cheeses, or even stir in some cream cheese to make it extra unctuous.

So, if you find yourself stuck with all the above ingredients and nowhere to go, try this:

MACARONI CHEESE WITH CAULIFLOWER AND PUFF PASTRY - serves 2-4 (depending on if you serve extra veg with it)
Ingredients:

300g Macaroni or similar tube pasta, cooked as per packet instructions, drained

100g Cauliflower, cooked, drained

150g Grated Cheese which a good melting texture, any combination, Gruyere, Cheddar, White Leicester, Emmental, Edam, etc. Blue cheese would be fabulous too!

50g Grated Parmesan

6 Egg Yolks (freeze the egg whites for meringue)

Some Scraps of Puff Pastry (of course, frozen is fine) or Shortcrust Pastry (optional)

Worcestershire Sauce

Cayenne Pepper

Salt, Pepper

Squeeze Fresh Lemon Juice

METHOD:

Preheat oven to 180c.

If your pasta and cauliflower isn't leftovers, cook it all together in a large pan with plenty of salted water, until al dente.
In a large saucepan over very gentle heat, whisk together the egg yolks and cheeses until melted together (don't do as I did and place the eggs over a high heat because the hot plate doesn't cool down quickly enough and end up with partially cooked egg yolks before the cheese has even touched it. Don't worry, I just about managed to bring it back again, with lots of frantic whisking). If you find that the sauce seems to be a bit lumpy, add some milk or cream to thin it down slightly and make it smoother.

Add a dash of Worcestershire Sauce, Salt, Pepper and Cayenne Pepper to taste.

Add the cauliflower and macaroni to the sauce, mix well and pour into a ovenproof dish.
Roll out the pastry and cut out large circles to resemble biscuits. I thought afterwards that it would be cute to do little star cut-outs too but it was too late at this point.
Sprinkle over some grated Parmesan and bake for about 20-25 minutes, until the pastry is puffed and golden.
Serve with some green vegetables and enjoy!

Sugar High Friday # 31 Welcome Back Ricotta

2007-05-23T06:37:00.001Z

Tara at Seven Spoons is hosting this month's Sugar High Friday and her theme is inspired: Neutral Territory. We have to create a perfectly pure, muted, simple, non-gaudy, pale, never seen the sunshine sweet.
In stark contrast to last month's SHF, Flower Power, where stunning bursts of colour were seen on blogs across the world, Tara wants us to share our puddings in every shade of Magnolia.
As someone who has spent her life being pale and interesting, I was thrilled at this month's theme. And I knew I was going to use the pot of Ricotta in the fridge but how?
There have been so many other fabulous entries so far, ranging from a virginal Millefeuille to a sublime Illes Flotante, from a daring Coconut and White Chocolate cake to a recherche Mochi. Who knew that there was so many different flavours of white?
For the second month running now, I have turned to Tessa Kiro's beautiful book, Falling Cloudberries, in particular the section on Greece. Beautifully photographed, it is hard to decide exactly which recipe to use. Kiros’s book is wonderfully evocatively multi-cultural; her parents are Finish and Greek and her husband Italian. Falling Cloudberries is compiled into several ethnic chapters, one for each country she has lived in and she reproduces and reworks traditional recipes from each of those countries in an accessible manner.
Coming from a cold European country, the Greek recipes are more alluring to me than those from chilly Finland, however, there is a frosty beauty to these calming, warming dishes that is just as appealing and brings to mind Diana Henry’s Roasted Figs Sugar Snow indispensible book.
But, Summer beckons and I have an unbearable craving for something fried. Deep fried but light at the same time. Of course, unless you happen to visit our local chip shop, deep frying generally ensures that the food is crisp and light, albeit saturated with molten oil. This is where the second part of my craving comes in: a deep fried dumpling with a light filling. We all know that there is nothing better to plunge into hot oil than something already contained within a wrapper, whether it’s a relleno, a wonton or rangoon. But these are all savoury dishes. What about something sweet? What about a Greek Bourekia, a crisp shortcrust pastry filled with cinnamon scented cream cheese and then dipped in the drink?
Originally referred to, quite charmingly, as Breadmeats, the Bourekia has been enjoyed since the times of Ancient Greece. They later acquired the name through force, from the Turks who felt that the Greeks need to share the same names for delicacies as they did.
Whatever name the Bourekia goes under, it has infinite variety: savoury, sweet, vegetarian or carnivorous, rolled into cigar shapes or crescent shapes, wrapped into Filo or Shortcrust Pastry.
Kiros’ filling is cream cheese or ricotta flavoured with Orange Flower Water, Cinnamon, Lemon Zest and some Caster Sugar. This can be easily and deliciously adapted. Rosewater (another traditional Greek flavouring) could be substituted for the Orange Flower Water, different spices can be added, chopped chocolate and, as Paul suggested, using Mascarpone instead of Ricotta. I can see where he’s coming from: the finished crescents reminded me very much of Cannoli, with their ricotta and chocolate filling.
However, I am in love with this not-to-sweet, palest of pink fillings. Biting into the crisp, lemon-tinged pastry, a dusting of icing sugar exploding all over you, and then into the yieldingly soft, gently perfumed interior. Truly a perfect ending to any Summers day.
RICOTTA AND CINNAMON BOUREKIA - makes between 12-24, depending on how thin you can roll the pastry
Ingredients:
Pastry:
250g Plain Flour (cake or '00' is best)
Pinch Salt
55g Cold Butter, cut into cubes
Some Cold Water
Zest of 1 Lemon
Filling:
250g Ricotta Cheese or Cream Cheese or Mascarpone, drained
50g Caster Sugar (or to taste)
1/2 Teaspoon Cinnamon
1/2 Teaspoon Orange Flower Water
Zest of 1 Small Lemon
METHOD:
Make the pastry:
Gently rub the butter into the flour and salt until it loosely resembles the texture of oatmeal.
Pour into a couple of tablespoons of cold water and the lemon zest and knead for about 15 seconds, or until the dough forms a cohesive ball.
Wrap in clingfilm and chill for one hour.
Make the Filling:
Beat together the ricotta with the Orange Flower Water, Cinnamon, Sugar and Lemon Zest until well amalgamated. Taste and adjust flavourings as necessary. Chill until needed.
Make the Bourekia:
Heat a large pan of vegetable oil, filled about halfway, over high temperature until a scrap of pastry sizzles gently but not frantically.
Roll out the dough very thinly. Cut 3" rounds out. According to the recipe, you should get 24 rounds out of the dough, but I managed about 14. It all depends on how pliable your dough is, and mine was quite crumbly.
A hint for making little pasties, whether it's these Bourekias or Empanadas or Cornish, when you cut the rounds out, give them another couple of rolls with the rolling pin. This makes the dough thinner, and therefore crisper, but also it aids with manipulating it too.
Fill each round with a scant spoonful of filling.
Seal in little crescents shapes using some water, and a pinching technique.
Using a slotted spoon, drop the Bourekias into the hot fat, in batches of maybe 5 or 6 depending on the size of your pan. Fry for about 45 seconds, until they look crisp and puff up slightly. They will not turn golden brown.
Drain on kitchen paper, then serve dusted generously with icing (confectioners) sugar.
Eat whilst still hot.
Enjoy!

p.s. Just 3 days left to submit your entry for Pauls Big Burger Ballyhoo! So...get grilling!

Sunday Baking

2007-05-20T19:36:00.001Z

Sometimes I think I spend all week looking forward to Sundays. It is the only day of the week that we spend together, just the two of us and the dogs, doing whatever we want. Sometimes we stay in bed until lunchtime watching the True Movie Channel (Paul jokes that despite my affected intellectuality, I actually prefer this made for TV movies to much more famous ‘good’ movies – he may well have a point). Other days, we decide to go to Subway and split a foot long sub, Club-style. He has mayo and ALL the salad, I have mayo, onion relish and some of the salad (no pickles).
When we’re flat broke (which seems all the time at the moment), we bake. I have come to terms with the fact that I am not one of those London types who shop at Borough Market for their groceries. If only. However, I do know that with just one pair of hands, a bag of flour, some yeast, butter and eggs working together in a mystical alchemy, something magical can happen.
I don’t remember my mum ever making bread when I was a child, although she did bake on special occasions, Christmas, Birthdays. I think that she found (and still finds) cooking to be a chore, a necessity rather than a joy. However, she did enjoy indulging her artistic side by decorating cakes which she doesn’t consider to be ‘cooking’ but rather ‘art’.
I suppose that this is where I first thought that certain tasks in the kitchen, such as baking bread, were for the experts only. It wasn’t until Paul started baking bread, and then I caught the itch off of him, that I realised it is really, incredibly simple. Even soft, sticky dough like Brioche is so simple to make with the most basic of electric hand whisks. The only 'difficult' part of breadmaking is the kneading and with stand-alone mixers (or husbands keen on baking), even this step is easy. However, I enjoy the almost ritualistic kneading of the dough - it is both therapeutic and relaxing.
Usually though, Paul kneads the dough. It is wonderful to see his large bakers hands working the dough until it starts to come to life. He does it so effortlessly and he responds to the bread as much as it responds to him.
Challah was our bread of choice this weekend. I love soft, egg-rich breads like Brioche and whilst browsing several of my baking books, Challah (pronounced Hallah) seemed to be an interesting variation on the sweet egg bread.

Challah is of great cultural importance within the Jewish faith, and it is traditionally served on the Sabbath or special occasions. It has a familiar braided shape which often varies to symbolise, for example Rosh Hashanah (when it is braided into a circle to represent birth-death-rebirth) and other observances of the Jewish faith.

To us it represented another step in our baking history: shaping bread. I had originally planned on making two simple braids (or plaits, as we call them), of three dough strands apiece. Paul decided he wanted to go bigger! So, we ended up with a sort of 4-strand plait shaped into a ring. Once baked to a rich, shiny, dark pine lustre though, it looked stunning and would be a truly memorable loaf to place on your celebratory table (whether you are Jewish or not). The taste is reminscent of soft American dinner rolls, a tender crumb with a satisfying crust. Even the next day, when I had forgotten to put the bread ring away, it felt slightly drier but still tasted delicious with butter and strawberry jam.

If you wanted to omit the artistic element of the bread, I think that this dough shaped into bread rolls, or a more traditional but free-form loaf shape would be just as good, just adjust the baking times accordingly. The proving time is slightly shorter than some breads, 2 x hour long rises, plus a 45 minute 'shaped' rise. I also found that it took a much shorter time to cook than the original recipe states.

n.b. If you prefer a sweeter loaf, reduce the salt by half and add a little more sugar.
This bread also makes great french toast, bread pudding and croutons if you find you have some that has gone stale.
If you want to make Challah, here's the very simple recipe:
CHALLAH - makes one large braided loaf, two small braids or experiment as you wish.
Ingredients:
500g Strong White Flour
2 Teaspoons Salt
20g Fresh Yeast (I used 2 and a quarter packets of instant yeast - about 16g)
200ml Lukewarm Water
2 Tablespoons Caster Sugar
2 Organic Eggs
3oz Melted Butter
1 Egg Yolk mixed with a tablespoon water for the glaze
METHOD:
Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl. Make a well in the middle of the flour.
In a small jug, mix together the water, sugar and yeast. Pour into the flour, along with the 2 eggs and melted butter. Stir well with a wooden spoon until it forms a dough and turn out onto a lightly floured board.
Knead for about 10 minutes or until the dough is soft and pliable and feels as though it is coming to life. Effectively it is - the yeast is activating under your touch.
Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with clingfilm and leave in a warm room to prove for an hour.
Knock down the dough which will have more than doubled in size, cover again and leave for another hour.
Knock down the dough once more, knead lightly and turn out onto a lightly floured board.
If you are shaping the dough, separate into three or four equal pieces, rolling each one out to about 18" long and 1" thickness. Plait using these directions here.
Place on a lightly oiled baking sheet and leave to rise for 45 minutes.
Preheat oven to 180c.
Brush with egg wash.
Bake your Challah for between 20-40 minutes, depending on how you've shaped it and how efficient your oven is. Our large loaf took less than 25 minutes.
Remove from oven and leave to cool on a rack.

Freya's Boiga Ballyhoo Entry and 60 Second Ice Cream!

2007-05-20T16:50:00.000Z

I suppose it seems only right that I should support my husband's food event, Paul's Big Burger Ballyhoo (just 5 days to go, folks!). Whilst I am unhappy about donating our meagre supplies of Goatslick (it's a great mixer with vodka - seriously!), I do like the idea of a good food contest. I realise that I am exempt from winning the competition. However, when I knocked up this vegetarian sandwich yesterday, Paul suggested that I should at least put it forward as inspiration for other people.
Of course, it can only be cooked on a grill if you have a grill-safe skillet (or frying pan to us Brits) because it involves small mushrooms and scrambled eggs. Sounds like breakfast so far? Try adding some Parmesan, truffle paste, lemon juice, cayenne pepper and parsley to the mix and you've got a winner for your vegetarian (or hamburger squeamish) guests. Furthermore, if you're not using the grill, then you can just rustle this up in the kitchen (as I did) for a quick snack.
The recipe is taken from Jane Grigson's Mushroom Feast, who directly attributes the recipe to the formidable foodie Alice B Toklas. I have omitted several steps from the original, purely to make it much quicker and more convenient. I chose not to process the mushrooms into a paste because I love the squeaky texture of fungi but if you want to proceed as per the original, place the just cooked mushrooms in a food processor until process until coarsely chopped and then add the eggs. The Truffle Paste is my luxurious touch and proof that I really am going to use that expensive looking glass bottle of, what is in truth, chopped mushrooms with a hint of truffle oil (which is no more made with authentic truffles than baby oil is made out of babies). However, I enjoy the strong, garlic heavy flavour and a little goes a long way (and it keeps for much longer than it actually states on the packaging. Use within 5 days of opening? Mine has been open 8 months and tastes just as good as the day I first popped the lid). Obviously I don't suggest that you go out and buy this special item just for what is, in effect, glorified mushroom sandwiches. In particular, if you are privy to some rich, musky flavoured wild mushrooms, these will need very little adornment at all.
According to Alice B Toklas, the taste of the finished sandwich is much like chicken and indeed, the mushrooms combined with eggs and cheese had a deeply meaty taste.
This dish also lends itself to much experimentation: different herbs (Thyme or Tarragon) or cheese (Gruyere, maybe a not too strong blue cheese), some sauteed onions, perhaps some garlic, whatever type of mushrooms you are able to pick locally or pick up at your supermarket.
If you have some mushrooms that are crying out to be used and you're feeling peckish right now, here's how to make them:
ALICE. B. TOKLAS INSPIRED MUSHROOM SANDWICHES - serves 2 greedy people
250g Mushrooms (a punnet), I used Chestnut, you could use whatever you have
30g Butter
2 Tablespoons Grated Parmesan (or cheese of your choice)
2 Organic, Free Range Eggs
Spritz Lemon Juice
Salt, Pepper, Cayenne Pepper
1 Spring Onion, chopped
Teaspoon Truffle Paste (optional)
White Bread, cut into rounds using a large cutter, if you're feeling in a Mad Hatters Tea Party mood, if not, keep bread as is.
METHOD:
Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium height. Add a spritz of lemon juice (I used about a quarter of a lemon) and throw in the mushrooms. Grind over some black pepper and leave to sweat down, and then reabsorb the liquid that they initially emit.
Once they are tender but fairly dry (about 8 minutes) break the eggs over the mushrooms and stir briskly to scramble them. Remove from the heat before the egg goes dry and whilst hot, stir in the grated cheese, cayenne pepper to taste and the spring onions. Finally stir in some salt and truffle paste (if using), also to taste.
Serve on toasted bread. I fried the bread rounds in some butter because I love fried bread, however this is an overly luxurious touch and the toaster works just as well.
Enjoy!

For those of you who skipped the above burger waffle because you were seduced by the words '60 Second Ice Cream', let me reassure you that you will not be disappointed. Inspired by Lisa over at La Mia Cucina's and Marce at Pip in the City's Banana Ice Cream which does not require an ice cream maker or even copious freezing times, I decided to experiment with other 'instant' ice creams. A little investigative work informed me that other fruits won't give you the authentic ice cream texture that the bananas did. However, with a little lubricant supplied by natural (or Greek) yogurt, a dash of sugar (or Agave syrup) and some flavourings, you can produce something which tastes fruity and great.
I remembered that I had bought a bag of cherries some months (or was that years?) ago, with the probable intention of making cherry pie for Paul. Obviously this never transpired. I am not the biggest fan of cherries so didn't really feel compelled to make the pie. Feeling energetic after trying out the new local branch of Subway though, I decided to treat Paul. I placed half the bag of frozen cherries in my processor, poured in about 50g caster sugar, a dash of almond vodka (made with the kernels from damsons) and some almond extract and 150ml of yogurt and processed for 60 seconds or until smooth and vividly pink. Taste for sugar, add more if necessary and serve. I think that if you had frozen banana slices in your freezer, you could replace the sugar element with this instead for an even healthier, fruity frosty treat.
Again, experimentation is the key to success: I have decided to keep all sorts of soft fruits in the freezer; blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, currents, mango; with the idea that we have instant ice cream at the drop of a hat. Would this work with stewed fruits, like Rhubarb or Apple, flavoured with cinnamon or vanilla or made boozy with a dash of sloe gin? Let me know if you decide to experiment and find a truly amazing combination!
60 SECOND "ICE CREAM"
Basic Recipe
1kg Frozen Fruit
300-400g Natural Yogurt (you may need more depending on the texture of the fruit). At this point, I am wondering if you can use tofu for those of you who are lactose intolerant?
50g Sugar (depending on natural sweetness of fruit), Agave Syrup or Honey
Flavouring of your choice (vanilla, almond extract, fruit liqueurs as a starting point)
METHOD:
Place all the ingredients in a processor and blend until smooth. No longer or it will melt too much
Serve straight away. This stuff doesn't refreeze but if you find you have any left, you can drink it as a thick smoothie instead.

Yes, Another Potato Curry

2007-05-19T08:21:00.000Z

For those of you who found the Sag Aloo (Bombay Potatoes) recipe interesting, I
thought I'd share another Indian potato dish with you. This recipe utilises
considerably more spices than the Sag Aloo, but most of them you will already have in
your store cupboard.
I adapted this Cauliflower and Potato dish from a recipe by Atul Kochhar, one of
Britain's most innovative Indian chefs. It takes absolutely no time at all to make,
literally the time it takes to find the spices out of the cupboard (in my case, this
can sometimes be several hours), and chop the cauliflower and potatoes, plus a couple
of tomatoes.
Unlike some curries, there is no need to sauté onions beforehand to add that extra
element of flavour but the addition of Nigella (Onion) seeds and layering of spices
gives the distinctive "Indian Restaurant" flavour that is so hard to replicate at
home. Despite this, the cauliflower is never overpowered and I liken this dish to a
spicy cauliflower cheese (although it has no cheese in it).
Paul and I served the curry with some plain boiled basmati rice, but it would be
great served alongside a meat-based curry if you were preparing an Indian banquet. I
think it would also be just as good served alone, with just some Naan Bread to mop up
the deliciously fragrant sauce.
Just a couple of footnotes:
1) I used Crème Fraiche to stir through curry, although yoghurt is recommended and is
more traditional. I just happened not to have any in the house. I imagine you could
also use some sour cream.
2) I used more potatoes than the original recipe states, for no other reason than I'm
a potato fiend and I love them curried.
3) I have a feeling that some trimmed green beans would also be pretty fantastic in
this curry.
OK, there's not much more to write about this dish without treading over the same
territory that I approached with the Sag Aloo post, so, without further ado, here's
the recipe:
CAULIFLOWER AND POTATO CURRY - serves 4
adapted from a recipe by Atul Kocchar
Ingredients:
4 Medium Potatoes, peeled and cut into 1" cubes (or wedges)
A Cauliflower, cut into florets
3 Tablespoons Vegetable Oil
1 Teaspoon Nigella (Onion) Seeds
2 Cloves
2 Cardamom Pods
1 Bay Leaf
Half a Cinnamon Stick (or Cassia Bark if you can get it)
1 Teaspoon Turmeric
1/2 Teaspoon Chilli Powder (or to taste)
Salt
1 Teaspoon Sugar
300ml Hot Water
200g Yoghurt, Sour Cream or Crème Fraiche
2 Chopped Tomatoes (use good quality vine ones or home-grown)
Garam Masala for sprinkling (optional)
Coriander Leaves for Garnishing (I omitted the Coriander as I didn't have any)
METHOD:
Heat the oil in a sauté pan over medium high height. Throw in the diced potato and
cauliflower florets and fry for about 5 minutes. Parts of the potato and cauliflower
will be browned and crusted, other sides will remain lily-white but this adds to the
final flavour of the taste.
Remove from the pan and set to one side.
Turn the heat up to high and add a little more oil if the pan looks dry. Fry the Nigella Seeds, Bay Leaf, Cinnamon Stick, Cardamom Pods and Cloves until they start to crackle and smell fragrant. Take care because those Nigella Seeds really are little spitfires - they gob out miniscule balls of molten hot oil. All over your arms.
Put the potato and cauliflower back in the pan and mix well with the spices. Stir in the rest of the spices and cook for a minute more to allow all the flavours to mingle.
Pour over the water, bring to the boil, which won't take long because the pan is really hot, turn down to medium low and simmer, uncovered, until the potatoes are just tender.
Stir through the yoghurt/cream and the chopped tomatoes and simmer for another five minutes.
Taste for seasoning, adding salt or sugar if you feel it needs it.
Sprinkle with Garam Masala and chopped Coriander.
Serve and enjoy!

P.S. This is my entry for Vegetables, Beautiful Vegetables, held by Abby over at Eat The Right Stuff. Abby is on a campaign for everyone to eat more, more, more vegetables so get on over there with your favourite vegetable dish and join in the (healthy) fun!

P.P.S. Only just this morning we had confirmation that the bank has now complied with 2 demands from our Particulars of Claim! They haven't done anything financial yet, but this proves they're now taking us seriously!

Third Time Lucky Bro...Blondies

2007-05-17T06:37:00.000Z

These "Third Time Lucky Blondies" are so named for a reason. Of course, everything has a reason behind it but this title is particularly pertinent to me.
Have you ever baked a recipe from a cookbook, either penned by a reliable cook or that has been recommended by another reliable cook, only to find that the first recipe you cook is completely duff? Bowed but not beaten, you give the book another go. Perhaps the oven was too hot or you didn't sieve the flour for long enough.

(left) Bad Blondies (above) Great Blondies!

Deep down you just know that you did everything to the letter, yet you still plough on, like the culinary powerhouse you are.
The next recipe is also a stinker. And the next. And then the book is relegated from "next to the bed" status to "shoved away in the spare room under the bed" status.
The book I am referring to is Tamasin Day-Lewis' latest, Tamasin's Kitchen Classics. And indeed, this book is her own original take on classics from across the world. I have previously found all of her cookbooks to be impeccable and infinitely preferable to certain other female TV cooks who tend to perhaps rely more on seducing viewers with a lifestyle rather than concentrating on cooking. Tamasin has always been about the cooking and I cannot recommend her other books highly enough.

(left) Ooey, Gooey, Perfect Blondies

My gripe with Kitchen Classics is less that the recipes are bad, more that they are poorly notated and seem rushed. This is perhaps a reflection more on her publishing company than the author herself, her previous book, the mammoth and indispensable Kitchen Bible, having been published exactly a year before (in fact, a cursory glance on Amazon reveals that the prolific Ms Day-Lewis has another book due for publication in, you guessed it, September 2007. I'll still be buying it though).
"How does all this typical preamble and waffle connect to Brownies though?" I hear you ask. Well, I baked my first batch of chocolate brownies a few years ago, using a Tamasin Day-Lewis recipe from her Good Tempered Food and found them to be completely and utterly darkly delicious. They are as chocolatey as you could ever imagine, fudgy and dense. I don't bake them too often though because the recipe hinges on using excellent quality chocolate and I covet my expensive chocolate as though it were an internal organ.

(right) Bad Blondies, note Flapjack-type texture

Whilst idly (and I probably mean avidly) flipping through Kitchen Classics, a recipe kept catching my eye: Walnut and Date Blondies. Blondies! A cheaper variation of the chocolate brownie. Something in the ingredients seemed to click: the brown sugar, the sticky chopped dates and the crunchy, slightly bitter walnuts. I had a feeling this cheeky little recipe would jostle with the saucy chocolate brownies - who would be the cakey treat that got to rub mama's feet?
Strange metaphors aside, I got to work. This is a recipe that relies on few ingredients, my favourite type. I replaced the walnuts with pecans, which I prefer, and I refused to use a whole expensive vanilla pod on a small batch of bro...blondies. I used Vanilla Extract instead. Other than that, I followed the recipe to the letter.
Perhaps it was the direction "gently melt the butter and then stir in the sugar. Allow the sugar to dissolve but cook for no longer otherwise you'll have toffee" that I had problems with. In fact, it was that direction. The first two times. I must have melted the sugar too much each time because when I then whisked in the beaten egg, I ended up with toffee scramble. Don't get me wrong, I still used the mixture but instead of it being a cake-like batter, it was more like raw shortbread. I had to knead it into the corners of the tin!! However, the finished product, whilst divinely yummy, was a bit too dried-up Toothpaste-like in texture to deserve the title of bro...blondie.
Because I know that there is a great recipe in here somewhere, and I knew that the issue lay within the sloppy directions, I decided to make a third batch this week. Using my brain instead of relying on the recipe, I decided to melt the butter and stir in the sugar into the butter off the heat. It remains liqueous but doesn't turn to caramel, which, of course, is going to seize as soon as you dump any cold liquid into it (i.e. beaten egg). I tentatively stirred the beaten egg into this third batch of melted butter and sugar and was happy to see no seizing and no scrambling! The rest of the ingredients followed, I poured the batter into the prepared dish and waited, with baited breath. 25 minutes later, a golden, sugar-crusted bar of blondies emerged triumphantly from the oven! No way was I going to let this recipe beat me and it didn't! If I had been using my precious chocolate, then I might have fallen at the first hurdle, but seeing as I have a huge bag of dates and tonnes of pecans rolling around my bread-bin (don't ask), I felt happy to experiment.
Other dishes from this book that I wouldn't particularly recommend using, at least word for word, are her Butternut Squash and Crotin (baby goats cheese) tart - really, really bland. The Coffee, Chocolate and Raspberry Tart - the gelatine didn't work and neither did the flavours together. I feel strongly that this is just a case of recipes not being tested properly, a bit like wayward children with no direction in their life. With a little love and encouragement, these could all become dishes of great merit! And therein lies the lesson for today - perseverance pays off. Most of the time.
Oh, and of course, this is my entry for Brownie Babe of the Month, held by Miriam over at Once Upon A Tart. I doubt mine is worth one of her gorgeous aprons, but it must surely be worth a gold star for effort!

PECAN AND DATE BLONDIES aka Third Time Lucky Blondies makes...nowhere near enough!
Ingredients:
55g Unsalted Butter
180g Light Brown or Muscovado Sugar
1 Egg Beaten
100g Plain Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
55g Chopped Dates
55g Chopped Pecans (or walnuts)
METHOD:
Preheat Oven to 180c.
Line a small loaf tin with greaseproof paper.
Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over low heat. Once melted, stir in the sugar and warm very gently until it just starts to become absorbed into the butter.
Whisk in the beaten egg and vanilla extract.
Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt and stir into the butter/sugar mixture.
Fold in the chopped dates and pecans, pour into the prepared loaf tin and bake for 25-30 minutes until you have a paper-thin sugar crust. A skewer will not come out clean because you want that gooey texture of the brownies.
Leave to cool. They will probably crack and collapse a little in the middle. This is all part of the blondie/brownie's ramshackle charm.
OK, once they have cooled a little, you can cut a slice. I should really make you wait until they're completely cold but I didn't (who does?)!
Enjoy!

P.S. EIGHT DAYS LEFT UNTIL THE DEADLINE FOR BIG BURGER BALLYHOO! AND THERE WILL BE NO EXTENSIONS THIS TIME! WE HAVE HAD AN OVERWHELMING RESPONSE ALREADY BUT WE WANT MORE, MORE, MORE BURGERS!!

Presto Pasta Night!

2007-05-15T08:48:00.000Z

I don’t usually post my supper dishes, particularly if they’re pasta based because I think people might find them a bit boring to read about. However, my recent discovery of foodie event, Presto Pasta, held by Ruth over at Once Upon a Feast, has changed my mind.
Pasta can guarantee you a speedy, nutritious and tasty supper and if you’ve had a busy day, sometimes this is all you want. Pasta dishes just tick all the boxes. And the more inspiration I can get for quick pasta dishes the better, so thanks for inventing this event, Ruth!
Yesterday, I emailed Paul asking him what he wanted for supper. The reply was brief and swift: “Pasta”.
I like it when Paul wants pasta because it generally means we will eat before 6pm. If I choose supper, we’re lucky if we eat before 8pm.
Apart from pasta being quick, it is also a good way of using up the rubbery vegetables shoved to the back of the refrigerator drawer. I remembered that I had a couple of courgettes (or zucchini, if you will) that were well past their ‘freshly picked’ status and a small barrel of organic goats cheese (the spreadable type, not the one with the rind) that was so old that the goat who kindly produced the cheese was probably a proud octogenarian by now.
Aside from these two choice ingredients, some dried up Parmesan, a half empty bag of penne, a mushy onion and a handful of frozen peas also woefully resided in my kitchen. An evil plan started to form in my brain. How about pasta with goats cheese, courgette and frozen peas? All of the necessary food types in one pan!
And any fears I had of this being a little bland were quickly pushed to one side once I tried it. The goats cheese had added its familiar tang to the dish, the courgette chimed in with a yummy green bite, the peas threw in some pop-on-your-tongue sweetness for good luck and some sauteed onions and garlic tied the whole thing together with a big Allium bow.

I also have a feeling that this would be a great way to get vegetable loathing children to eat their greens, particularly if you use a fancy, child-friendly shaped pasta, like the bow-ties. You can also omit the goats cheese and use an alternative strong flavoured cheese, like cheddar or just parmesan all the way.
I suppose you could fry up some bacon and add this to the dish but I think it would spoil the herby good-naturedness of the vegetables, turning into something a bit more decadent and, yes, fattening. However, if you are going to run to the dark side and add bacon, then why not stir in some single cream instead of the milk, to make the sauce even more devilishly unctuous?
PENNE WITH COURGETTES, PEAS AND GOATS CHEESE serves 2
Ingredients:
200g Dried Penne (or pasta shapes of your choice)
1 Small Onion, peeled, halved and sliced thinly
1 Clove Garlic, finely chopped
Tablespoon Olive Oil
1 Small (150g) Log Goats Cheese, the kind without the rind but with the texture of Boursin or Cream Cheese
1 Courgette (about 200g), topped, tailed and cut into roughly 1cm cubes
50g Frozen Peas
150ml Milk (I used skimmed) or Cream
50ml White Wine (optional but it does add a great dimension to the dish)
Small handful basil leaves, roughly chopped or torn
Salt and Pepper
Parmesan Cheese for Grating
METHOD:
Cook the pasta according to the instructions on the packet. Drain, reserving a few tablespoons of the cooking liquor. Lightly oil the pasta and place to one side.
Heat the olive oil gently in a sauté pan and cook the sliced onion until soft. Throw in the garlic and cook until fragrant, maybe 30 seconds.
Add the courgette and fry gently until the courgette starts to turn translucent. Season lightly.
Crumble in the goat’s cheese and then add the pasta stirring well to combine.
Pour over the milk, white wine and pasta cooking liquor and bring to a rapid boil. You are aiming for most of the liquid to cook off, leaving a light coating on the pasta. This should take no longer than 5 minutes.
Remove from the heat, taste for seasoning and adjust as necessary. Stir in the basil leaves.
Serve in large bowls and sprinkle of some grated parmesan.
Apply to face and enjoy!

The Bagel Debargle

2007-05-14T05:56:00.000Z

My first encounter with bagels was unpleasant enough to discourage me from trying them until I met Paul, some 2 or 3 years later. My then work colleague, Peter, who lived in London, decided to treat us by bringing everyone breakfast. I was thrilled. The arrival of Peter in the office always meant treats like Easter Eggs or large bars of chocolate or fish and chips, and as someone who is appallingly lazy at eating that first important meal of the day, I am forever devoted to someone who brings me breakfast.
I peeked in his little bag of breakfast and saw raisin cinnamon bagels, produced by the New York Bagel company. I hopped up and down a little. Back then, Bagels were prohibitively expensive and the more expensive a product, the more I want to try it.
Unfortunately, Peter forgot that we didn't have a toaster at work or any butter, jam or cream cheese so we had to eat them untoasted and dry. I might also mention at this point that Bagels were so unpopular ten years ago that they would sit on supermarket shelves for weeks and weeks, impervious to the normal blue moulds that generally inhabit old bread.
I politely declined a second bagel and remained hungry until lunchtime. After that I often waxed lyrical about how bagels were really over-rated and that my friend from London said that the Jewish community pronounced it "bar-gle" and not, as I had thought "bay-gle" Suffice to say, this nugget of misinformation produced a barely disguised snigger from Paul when I spouted my bagel bargle philosophy to him. He could hardly wait to re-educate me.
The true etymology of the word bagel is mixed but it is widely agreed that it is either derived from: a) the Austrian word beugal, meaning stirrup. A Jewish Austrian baker produced the bagel, originally in the shape of stirrup for King Jan Sobieski to commemorate the victorious cavalry charge over the Turks or
b) from the Polish beygl, a gift presented to women during childbirth. One can only assume that they were expected to bite down on the beygl during the pain of contractions. Thank heavens that a more common gift these days is an epidural.
As the Ashkenezi Jews immigrated to New York in the middle of the 19th Century, they brought these tasty yeast treats with them and they are synonymous with New York, despite wide-spread popularity throughout America and much of the Western world.
The most common filling for the Bagel is Lox and Cream Cheese. Lox, I discovered only in the last few years is Yiddish for Smoked Salmon (Lox itself being a natural development of the words Lachs, Lacs, Lax, Laks and finally Laeks, all of mean Salmon).
The texture of the Bagel is unusual, due to the procedure of boiling the formed bagels before baking (if the Bagel is not boiled and just baked, it becomes a Biali). The crumb is very dense and chewy and in my opinion, unpalatable before toasting. However, homemade Bagels are another story altogether.
After having a mixed reception to bagels, I have come to the conclusion that some pre-packaged ones are dreadful, Sainsbury Supermarket makes superb ones and as for McDonalds filled Bagels - Oy Vey!
Yet since that first morning together in America, when my husband served me hot bagels, dripping with butter, cream cheese and grape jelly, I was hooked.
Ever since, I have wanted to make my own and yesterday Paul and I finally got around to it. I have unofficially labelled Sundays as Baking Day, a day for getting covered in flour and getting thrilled at the thought of what some yeast and a hot oven can produce.
I have been reading through one of Paul's revered books on baking, part of the Good Cooks series by Time-Life, simply called Bread. There is one simple reason why I trust this book, and that is because Richard Olney wrote the entire series. Paul's reason is, he has never had a failure from the book yet, despite it being nearly 30 years old. I would highly recommend it to anyone, experienced or novice.
As with the Brioche, I had always imagined Bagels to be labour intensive, time-consuming and probably a bit tricky, but since becoming a Daring Baker, nothing seems too far out of my grasp nowadays. In fact, Bagels are just as easy as the Brioche was. The dough is a joy to handle. It is soft but not unworkably sticky (unlike the Brioche). There is a rising time of only an hour for the dough, a 10 minute proving time for the formed Bagels and then the cooking, which involves a 15 second dunk for each raw bagel in boiling water, a generous brush of egg-wash, the topping of your choice and then baking for 30 minutes or thereabouts.
My one issue with this recipe was the size of the final product. The recipe states that you will produce about 24 bagels from the dough and we did. I naturally assumed that they would either double in size during the 10 minutes proving (foolish, I know), or, failing that, double in size during the rapid boil or, in case of emergency, double in size in the oven.
As you can see, this was not the case.
But they are dinky aren't they? So, what I would recommend is this: if you are planning on making BBLTBs (Baby BLT Bagels) like we had to, proceed as we did, cutting the ball of dough in half, then each half into quarters and again until you reach 24 small balls of dough. Or, just cut the dough in half and stop halving when you reach 12. And only then should you have normal size bagels.
The fun part is deciding what toppings to add to the boiled bagels. Because we had so many, we decided to make a good variety. Sea Salt (Paul's favourite - he said they reminded him of soft pretzels), Black Sesame Seeds, Caramelised Onions (my favourite), Parmesan Cheese and finally Demerara Sugar and Cinnamon. Straight from the oven they are a delicious bite-size morsel, great to nibble on whilst watching the True Movies Channel (as we spent much of yesterday doing), but as with all bagels, they are best lightly toasted and filled. How you choose to serve yours is up to you, but if you want to make these at home, here is the simple recipe:
BAGELS: makes 24 small 'uns or 12 regulars
Ingredients:
3.5 Cups Plain Flour
7g Dried Yeast (1 packet)
1 Cup Milk (I used skimmed)
4 Tablespoons Butter
2 Tablespoons Caster Sugar
1 Egg, separated
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
Toppings of your choice
METHOD:
Heat the milk to just before boiling point, remove from the heat and stir in the sugar and butter until melted. Pour into a large bowl leave to reach tepid.
Sprinkle over the yeast, whisk well and leave for 10 minutes to activate and start to go foamy.
Meanwhile, gently mix the egg white with the salt. Pour this into the yeast mixture, beating well, and the incorporate the flour until a soft dough starts to form.
Tip out the dough onto a floured surface and knead for about fifteen minutes, or until soft, smooth and feels 'alive' under your fingertips.
Place in an oiled plastic bag (it's what the recipe says!) to rise for an hour. It will double in size to bear this in mind when choosing your bag!
Preheat the oven to 200c.
Remove the dough from the bag. On a floured surface, cut the dough into half and then half again until you have either 12 or 24 pieces of dough.
Roll into balls and using either a piece of doweling or your finger, make a hole in the middle of each ball.
Leave for 10 minutes, during which time they will rise a little.
Meanwhile, bring a large pan of water to a rapid boil and lightly oil a couple of large baking sheets.
After the 10 minutes, drop five or six of the bagels into the boiling water for no more than 15 seconds. Remove with a slotted spoon and place on the baking sheet. Once the sheet is full, brush each bagel with the egg yolk (mixed together with a little water) and sprinkle over the topping of your choice.
Place in the oven and bake for about 25-30 minutes, or until golden brown.
Serve as per your own preference and enjoy!

Weekend Herb Blogging - It's Always Potatoes For Me

2007-05-12T09:26:00.000Z

So, on those days when you come home from another bad day at the office, beleaguered and barely able to think about cooking but your stomach is telling you "feed me right now!" you need something comforting but tasty. You don't want chocolate (OK, so maybe you do, but you also need nutrients and something flavourful), you don't want (or can't afford) a takeaway and toast and peanut butter seems like a band-aid on a decapitation.
Enter Bombay Potatoes! From what Paul tells me, Indian food isn't as popular in the US as it is over here. With Chicken Tikka being adopted as one of the country's top ten indigenous dishes, Indian food is to British cuisine what hamburger is to the bun.
Yet many people choose not to cook it at home. Perhaps people are scared off by the seemingly endless lists of exotic spices, the slow cooking, the heat or the amount of ghee (clarified butter) that is so crucial to achieving that distinctive Indian flavour.
Whatever the reason, I am here to prove that there is such a thing as a quick supper that is both delicious, satisfying and which, once you've tried it, you will want to incorporate into your regular menus. Still not convinced? How about this: the dish I am about to reveal uses only two spices, both of which you will have amongst your collection of spices, particularly if you are keen on home canning.
"Again with the waffle and preamble!" I hear you wail, slightly too loud, I might add.
The dish? Sag Aloo, known to some as Bombay Potatoes. The variations on this basic recipe are incredibly versatile. So versatile in fact that there is a blog devoted to finding the perfect recipe for Bombay Potatoes.
I am not sure how authentically Indian Sag Aloo actually is. It seems to me that Indian restaurants, in the tradition of Chinese restaurants, have developed this dish for the potato-loving European market. I can only offer as proof of this the fact that they use Mustard Seeds and a little Cayenne Pepper as the main source of flavour. Both are quintessentially British spices, and, along with curry powder, used since the days of Empire.
Whatever the actual origin (and I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm wrong), there is no doubt that homemade Sag Aloo is a far superior dish to the flabby, insipid versions you find on the supermarket shelves, where the potatoes are cooked literally to the point of collapse.
Instead of using a floury potato, which seems to be the norm, I used Anya Potatoes which are a hybrid of the Pink Fir genus. You could replace this with a decent salad potato, or a spud which retains its firm texture without crumbling but with a nutty flavour.
The Sag element of the dish comes from the addition of cooked and chopped spinach which is stirred amongst the potatoes, offering it's emerald green goodness to the pan.
A final swirl of yogurt (although I used sour cream) to the cooked potatoes coheres all the ingredients together.
I am always amazed at how few ingredients are needed to produce such stunning food and feel that my own hubris is grounded in reality - it's just all the elements working together in an alchemical fusion. I simply placed them in a pan and let them get on with it. Ingredients are like schoolchildren. Some get on like a house on fire, hanging out at sleepovers, getting drunk down the park together, falling in love whilst others just bully the weedier ones, or they are bolshy troublemakers. Some are so quiet that you don't even notice they're there, and 20 years later you can't even remember their names.
Anyway, if you wish to recreate this one-pan dish for lunch or supper here's how. Oh, and I think it would be really good served with some chicken or a salmon, something that's been given a loud spice rub.
This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, this weekend held by Pat at Up A Creek Without a PatL.

SAG ALOO - serves 2 generously
Ingredients:
Small Bag Salad Potatoes (about 1kg), you can peel them if you have a real aversion to the skins. I did half peeled and half unpeeled. Boredom prevailed in the end. And the taste is not compromised in anyway.
Large Bag of Spinach
3 and half Tablespoons Butter (traditionally Ghee but butter works well - you could use olive oil if you're squeamish about ALL that butter but the flavour won't be as good. With that in mind, you could use a 50/50 mix of oil and butter)
2 Teaspoons Mustard Seeds (the recipe notes black seeds but I used regular yellow ones)
Pinch Cayenne Pepper to taste
3 Onions, peeled and thinly sliced
1 Large Clove Garlic, peeled and finely chopped
Salt, Pepper
Yogurt or Sour Cream to finish (optional)
METHOD:
Rinse the spinach and cook in only the water left clinging to the leaves after rinsing, with a little salt. Once completely collapsed, drain, leave to cool, then chop.
Melt the butter over high heat in a saute pan but do not allow to burn. Toss in the mustard seeds and cook for a few seconds until they start to pop.
Turn the heat down and add the onions and garlic. Gently cook until completely collapsed and starting to turn golden. I have always found the smell of onions cooking in butter completely alluring and it stimulates my appetite more than anything. It symbolises the onset of supper.
Add the potatoes and cayenne pepper. Cook for a few minutes to allow all the potatoes to absorb all the flavours, then add the spinach and season well.
Pour over enough water to cover. Simmer over gentle heat for 30-40 minutes until the potatoes are completely tender.
Taste for seasoning, remove from the heat and stir in the yogurt or sour cream. Serve in deep bowls with nothing else except perhaps a paratha.
Enjoy!

P.S. The deadline for the Big Burger Ballyhoo has been extended to May 25th. The response we've gotten already has been fantastic, but the list of invited guests has grown. This means we need to serve up more food, ergo, more recipes. What are you waiting for? Get Grilling!

Okra Lasagne...Just Kidding!

2007-05-10T17:37:00.000Z

Well, kidding about the okra in any case. We did, in fact, make a lasagne this weekend. I wouldn't have minded okra in it, but then, I am American and Freya says we don't know how to make lasagne.

Okay, I'll admit that what generally passes for Italian food in the US would probably go down the waste disposal in Italy, but cottage cheese and spinach are good in lasagne regardless. Besides, Freya isn't allowed a high horse as she grew up in a country obsessed with Spaghetti Bolognese. Actually, with what Brits try to pass off as Italian she doesn't even deserve to ride a pony. This isn't a criticism. I enjoy food of any kind, authentic or not.

The first lasagne Freya made for me was in Wisconsin at my parent's farm. It was her first visit to Door County and while she loved the idea of a pool table at the grocery store, she wasn't too keen on the absence of vegetarian mince. She was reduced to cooking with actual meat. This was difficult for her at the time as she was still flirting with vegetarianism. After letting her win at air hockey, we went back to the house to start cooking. When she started making a Béchamel sauce I was noticeably disgruntled. When I realised there wasn't any ricotta or cottage cheese involved I was suitably disconcerted. After observing that no Italian sausage had gone into the sauce I had to leave the kitchen.

The finished product was good, but not what I was used to. Not lasagna like mom used to make. I was used to the 1970's lasagna that every mother made. The kind that contained either more meat than most slaughterhouses can produce in a day or was completely vegetarian and contained more vegetables than a typical farmer's market. Which type you had was determined entirely by the cultural leanings of the month. Dad's jogging: veggie. It's gonna be a cold winter: meaty. Whichever form it took, it always had cottage cheese and was generally watery. But as a kid living in that decade, an era where we were told we'd be living in space by the year 2000 and when having a sunroof in your car meant your parents were "going places", this was the best meal ever!

So, I tried to make my American version for Freya eventually (In England). When I realised I couldn't get Italian sausage at Tesco I was noticeably disgruntled. When I realised I couldn't buy fluted lasagna pasta here I was suitably disconcerted. After Freya observed that no Béchamel sauce was being made, she had to leave the kitchen. The in-laws enjoyed my version, but they were clearly out of their element. I was officially banned from serving it at family functions after that.

After the first year or so of she and I playing duelling lasagna (lasagne), Freya made us a lasagne following the Anna Del Conte via Tamasin Day-Lewis recipe. What an enlightenment this was! The flavours were bold and complex, but in a way that seemed rustic and steeped in tradition. The rich meat sauce was sweet and savoury owing to the inclusion of carrots, celery, and milk in the early stages. Each layer was distinctive with a creaminess that we had previously found unobtainable.

I think a good lasagne should cut like a martial artists stack of boards. You know, you feel your fork (or knife if you're not American) go through the pasta and then move freely before hitting the next layer of pasta (If you made the crepe cake for the Daring Bakers last month, you know that feeling well.). The best way to achieve this is to make your own pasta. A good lasagne should also stay intact when you cut it, but not be dry or cloying. Very easy to get wrong, but great if done correctly, this is one the most sophisticated down home meals you can make. Once you've followed this recipe, you'll find it comforting in a very familiar way. You only get this feeling from wholesome food..........or ducky slippers.

Lasagne (Serves 1 of me or 6 of you)
Taken from Tamasin's Kitchen Bible
Ingredients
2-3 tbsp olive oil
1 knob butter
2 large onions, finely chopped
3 sticks celery, chopped
3 carrots, finely diced
3 or 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1kg/2lb ground beef chuck or similar, with plenty of fat. Substitute 1/3 quantity ground pork if you wish.
salt and fresh black pepper
2 bay leaves
240ml/8fl oz milk
1/4tsp nutmeg
240ml/8fl oz white wine
2 x 400g/14 oz tin plum tomatoes
1.2 litre/2 pints bechamel, made with bay leaf and nutmeg
2 boxes dried lasagne (not the kind that needs precooking) or preferably fresh home made pasta
freshly ground Parmesan cheese

METHOD
Warm the oil and butter in a heavy cast-iron pot, add the onion, and saute gently until softened and translucent. Add the celery, carrots and garlic, cook for another couple of minutes, stirring to coat well. Add the ground beef and a large pinch of salt, and grind over some pepper. Stir until the beef has lost its raw pink look. Add the bay leaves and milk, and simmer gently for about 10 minutes, until the meat has absorbed most of the milk. Add the nutmeg, then the wine and let it simmer until it has nearly evaporated. Add the cut-up tomatoes with their juice and stir thoroughly. Cook at a lazy simmer, mijoter, for 3 hours or more. Stir from time to time. The fat will eventually spearate from the sauce, but the sauce will not be dry. Taste and check the seasoning.
Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F. Pour just enough béchamel to cover the base of your greased baking dish. Add a layer of lasagne, followed by a layer of the ragu, a layer of béchamel and a good handful of Parmesan. Continue with two or three more layers, until your sauces are both used up, add a final sprinkling of Parmesan, and bake in the oven for about 30 minutes. The dish should be bubbling all over, and the knife should slip easily through the layers.

And you might throw in some cottage cheese for old times sake.

Bank Holiday Baking

2007-05-07T19:41:00.000Z

Bank Holidays are supposed to be a restful time, where you just put your feet up, eat junk food all day, watch reruns of old movies and curse the rain.
For me though, a Bank Holiday is the only time I get to spend baking so I gleefully plan what I'll spend time prepping, weighing, kneading, baking and eventually eating.
For some time now I had Brioche in mind, but I was also a little fearful. Anyone who is a novice but passionate baker will have read that Brioche dough is tricky to work with. It is not like normal, stretchy, 'dry' bread dough: Brioche gets its unquestionably light texture from the addition of eggs, lots of butter and milk. Suffice to say, the dough is incredibly sticky and impossible to knead by hand. Nor would you want to. The key to Brioche is a soft, almost cake like texture, but with greater delicacy. It has a gently yielding crust that gives way to its tender interior. This is achieved, not only through the addition of the eggs, milk and butter, but through minimal working of the dough. And, in fact, this is an ideal bread for people who find the whole kneading process boring. And the proving time is only 4 hours so it is feasible that, with an early start (or overnight start) you could be enjoying a late continental breakfast comprising of black coffee, unsalted butter and conserves spread on warm, split Brioche.
Brioche is, of course, a French bread although the word is derived from the Germanic Brier or Broyer, meaning to knead. It is thought that the Brioche was first produced in France in the 14th Century and has gone down in social history for the following faux pas, allegedly suggested by Marie Antoinette (although this has since been disproved, the legend remains): "S’ils n’ont plus de pain, qu’ils mangent de la brioche." This suggests that the Brioche was eaten as a cake, or sweetmeat rather than the bread it is today, and indeed so rich sweet is it, that it could be eaten as such.
Some recipe books suggest making the Brioche in a loaf tin so that it can be sliced and served buttered or cut into croutons. I, on the other hand, had a set of six Brioche tins that I had inherited from somewhere that needed using. Furthermore, I am in love with the fluted shape of the Brioche.
To anyone who thinks that Brioche is tricky, if you have a Kitchenaid or hands free food mixer, it is incredibly simple. The mixer literally does all the hard work for you. Unfortunately, I had to use an electric hand mixer (When is Paul going to get my Kitchenaid working?) with the dough hook attachment. This is tricky because not only do you have to hold the blender (which causes serious hand ache once the dough starts to thicken), you also have to steady the bowl AND add the pieces of butter. But. It is possible and this is how mine was successfully produced.
All you need to remember to do is take out the butter from the fridge several hours in advance to reach room temperature. It is paramount that the butter is soft enough to meld into the dough.
A final note. Once you have mastered the Brioche dough, it is incredibly versatile. It can made into large loaves, small buns, studded with dried fruit, chocolate chips or sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. For inspiration, I referred to the Leslie Mackie's Macrina Bakery and Cafe Cookbook (whose basic recipe I used) and The Village Baker's Wife Cookbook by Gayle Ortiz. Both have inspiration ideas for expounding on your Brioche.
BRIOCHE makes 6 small Brioche 'buns' or one large loaf tin.
Recipe taken from Leslie Mackies Macrina Bakery and Cafe Cookbook
Ingredients:
1/4 Cup Warm Water
1/2 Cup Caster (or Granulated) Sugar
1.5 Teaspoons Dried Yeast (half a sachet)
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
2 Eggs, free range and organic
3/4 Cup Milk
3.5 Cups Plain Flour
1 Teaspoon Salt
8 Tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature cut into dime (or 5p if you're a Brit) sized pieces
Egg wash made with 1 egg and 1 teaspoon water
METHOD:
Lightly oil a medium mixing bowl and set aside.
Place the warm water, 2 teaspoons of sugar and yeast in the bowl of your stand free mixer. Whisk until the yeast has dissolved and leave to foam and froth for five minutes.
To the yeast mixture, add the rest of the sugar, vanilla extract, eggs, milk, flour and salt. Mix on low speed with the dough attachment for three minutes.
Switch to medium speed and add the butter, one piece at a time. This will take about 10-12 minutes for all the butter to become incorporated. The dough will stretch out several inches when you pull it but will be incredibly sticky and wet.
Flour a work surface (best if you do this before you start mixing the dough) and turn out the dough. Dusting your hands with flour, gently shape the dough into a rough ball shape and place into the oiled bowl. Cover with clingfilm and leave in a warm room for 2 and a half hours.
During this time, the dough will double.
Lightly oil your baking vessel (i.e. brioche moulds or loaf tin).
Remove the dough from the bowl once doubled and place once more on a floured surface.
Pat down with floured hands into a rectangle shape and roll into cylinder. At this points you can either a) Fold the two narrow ends together and under to form an elongated ball. Place in the loaf tin and cover with clingfilm for 1 and a half hours or b) cut the dough into 6. Then cut roughly a sixth of the dough of of each portion. Form the larger pieces of dough into balls and place in the Brioche Moulds. Repeat with the smaller pieces and, making indents into the already filled moulds, drop a smaller dough ball onto the top of each mould. Cover loosely with clingfilm for an hour and a half.
When you have half an hour left of the final proving time, preheat the oven to 180c.
The dough will once again rise a lot during this period.
Remove the clingfilm and brush with the egg wash.
Bake for 40 minutes (loaf tin) or 20 minutes (Brioche Moulds). Leave to cool on a rack for 30 minutes then gently ease from the tins. Break open and inhale the deeply sweet, eggy, yeasty aroma before biting straight in (if you can bear it)!
Note: If you are using a large Brioche mould, proceed as per the Loaf Tin.
Enjoy!

P.S. DON'T FORGET, ONLY ONE WEEK LEFT FOR PAULS BIG BURGER BALLYHOO!

Okra - This is Your Last Chance

2007-05-05T10:00:00.000Z

This is it. The final Okra recipe to make any non-believer change his mind and follow us to the dark (or should that read ‘mucilaginous’?) side.
You may remember that we have tried out hardest to show glorious Okra in it’s most favourable light: homestyle, simmered with tomatoes, traditional-style in gumbo and given the catfish treatment by coating them in Fish-Fri and then plunging them in bubbling hot oil to produce a fun alternative to popcorn or canapés.
I had thought I had seen it all. In what other ways could Okra possibly be served that get the taste buds tingling with excitement just to look at it?
Enter cooking hero (at least to Shaun and myself), Tamasin Day-Lewis. With the possible exception of the Sologa (I spent many clumsy-fingered moments slaving over that in my non-artistic way), her second cookbook, Good Tempered Food is a hidden gem of dashingly unusual recipes that are much simpler to prepare than they look. I enjoy tricking people in this way. What cook wouldn’t get pleasure from being told “you must have spent hours slaving over this” when really you just tossed it together an hour before your guests arrived?
What interests me most about this particular book is the prolonged section on Indian food. Not curries or things from your local takeaway but food that Indians would actually eat and not just serve to beer-ed up stags on a Friday night.
These recipes are ingredient intensive. Even I, with my consistently jammed spice jar, had to do a little sniffing around to dig out some of these ingredients. They are not your usual supermarket fare. However, they are easy enough to find online (at least in the UK): Seasoned Pioneers and Natco are just two reasonably priced online spice suppliers. And the best thing about Indian spices? A little goes a long way.
Looking back to the success I had with deep-frying the diced Okra in Fish-Fri, I was intrigued by a photograph in Tamasin’s book, a ramshackle pyramid of red, green and yellow shreds – pepper, onion, ginger and, yes, okra. The vegetables are cut into thin, thin ribbons, then stirred together with gram (chick pea) flour, asofeteda, garam masala and a whole host of other spices, before this jewel-like mixture is dropped, fingerful by fingerful into hot oil. It takes no more than 30 seconds for the spicy coating to turn golden and crisp. Drain and then serve in heaping large piles straight away.
I defy any Okra hating person to identify the mysterious green shards as such in this flavoursome, crispy yet fresh tasting dish, perfect for serving instead of a bowl of tortilla chips or peanuts.
If you want to overcome your fear of Okra once and for all, or, if like us you bear no malice against this gentle, delicious and much-maligned vegetable, here’s how. Bear in mind that you will need to start checking out your local delis or online spice suppliers for some of these ingredients, particularly if this recipe also whets your appetite for buying the book from whence this recipe first originated.
This is my entry for this weekend's Weekend Herb Blogging, held by originator, Kalyn herself!
If this doesn't turn you into a fully paid up, banner carrying, badge wearing Okra fan, then I must turn to the final solution: Chocolate Dipped Okra....

AKRI BHINDI (CRISP OKRA) Taken from Good Tempered Food by Tamasin Day-Lewis
Ingredients:
225g Fresh Okra, tops removed and cut into long straggly strands
25g Red/Green Pepper, cut into thin matchsticks (you can use more if you want)
50g White Onion, peeled and cut gamine strips
1/2 Teaspoon Fresh Ginger, cut into a gangly julienne (I think I've exhausted all of the 'thin' metaphors now)
1/2 Teaspoon Carom Seeds
Pinch Asafoetida
Teaspoon Sea Salt
1/2 Teaspoon Chilli Powder
20g Gram (Chickpea) Flour
20g Cornflour
1/2 Teaspoon Fresh Coriander for a final scattering
Vegetable Oil for frying
METHOD:
Place the okra, pepper, onion and ginger in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, mix together all the other ingredients (except, of course, the coriander garnish and the vegetable oil) and sprinkle over the julienned vegetables, tossing thoroughly with your hands to ensure that everything is well coated.
Heat enough oil in a pan (maybe 3 inches up the side of the pan) until a piece of okra starts to sizzle when dropped in.
Carefully drop small handfuls in at a time, removing from the oil using a slotted spoon, when it turns crisp and brown, no more than 30/40 seconds.
Remove each crisp bundle to a plate lined with kitchen roll.
Serve on a large plate and sprinkle over the chopped coriander.
Enjoy!

Lemons for a Great Cause

2007-05-03T06:17:00.000Z

I used to hate Lemon Meringue Pie. It always reminded me of Lemsip, an over-the-counter lemon-flavoured cold medicine that always makes me instantly vomit.
I didn’t realise at the time that not all Lemon Meringue Pies came out a packet and that the curd wasn’t just a reconstituted custard flavoured with a peculiar lemon flavoured capsule of oil. When faced with such atrocities as a child, it’s easy to understand now why so many British people are still squeamish about trying new and different foods. If it isn’t flavoured by an innocuous capsule or powder, it must be feared.
Fear of food is something that must be overcome as soon as you are in the position to take charge of your own kitchen (or someone elses) lest you should end up refusing to try anything that doesn’t look good. Regular readers of this blog will have seen us chart the many new things that I have previously been squeamish about but tried anyway and then added to our regular menus. The best way to do this is to become almost intimately acquainted with your ingredients. By intimate, I mean being able to discuss personal medical problems without blushing, not just leaving the desperately odd message on MySpace accounts saying “Yeah, uh, how’s things? Remember me? You bought me reduced in the supermarket? So, yeah, I’m now residing at the bottom of your freezer. It’s pretty lonely here so if you get the time, drop by and say hi!”
Of course, I don’t actually sit and discuss my latest toenail fungal infection with a packet of chicken breasts (although, there was that one time with William when we discussed the merits of Andy Warhol as a filmmaker and whether he really was better than Dawson Leary – it could have ended up in fisticuffs had I not submerged him in brine), what I really mean is to know your animals heritage, the farm it comes from, whether it was intensively reared or lived the life of Riley on a farm. If you buy apples, do they come from a local farm shop just up the road or are they shipped from hundreds of miles away?
Whilst these questions seem like just one more thing to have to worry about in a life already fraught with discord and stress, shopping locally can actually prove to be a worthwhile and rewarding pastime. I have no doubt that most people that write food blogs find it no hardship to visit local food emporiums anyway but if it stops us from getting one step closer to the terrifying reality of eating food flavoured by capsules or that have concerning directions on the packaging that simply say “Just Add Water” then it’s got to be worth it.
With that in mind, here is my own Lemon Meringue Pie, culled from The Pastry Queen by Rebecca Rather. Her version, individual tarts with 3 inch high spiky meringue, are called Lemon/Lime Texas Big Hairs, the Big Hair obviously referring to the spikes. I wanted to make a large tart instead so used a slightly different sweet shortcrust. I also made a small one for photographic purposes, cute isn't it? Note that my own Big Hairs were much like my own hair, sort of flat and lacking body. I think I didn't whisk the meringue for long enough but it still tasted great!
I had run out of limes so had to make an all lemon curd. I used to think that Lemon Curd was incredibly difficult to make, something about the word 'curd' conjures up hours of stirring. Actually, it couldn't be further from the truth. Simply whisk together sugar, egg yolks (reserving the whites for the meringue), the zest and juice of several lemons over a double boiler, then leave to cook in the most gentle manner, for about 40 minutes, stirring only occasionally. Leave to cool completely, after which it will thicken up to a wobbly spoon dropping consistency. Not only can this luscious yellow curd be used in a tart, you can also use it to make a wonderful ice cream, serve it on scones, stir it through muesli or just eat it straight from jar.
I'm not going to list out the recipe here, suffice it to say, you should already own Rebecca Rather's Cookbook anyway. It is one of my personal favourites and every recipe is a winner.

There is also a serious side to this slightly irreverent post. This is my entry for Barbara, over at Winos and Foodies great awareness raising event, LiveSTRONG:

"LIVESTRONG Day is the Lance Armstrong Foundation's (LAF) grassroots advocacy initiative to unify people affected by cancer and to raise awareness about cancer survivorship issues on a national level and in local communities across the country. LIVESTRONG Day 2007 will occur on Wednesday, May 16"

This particular event goes much deeper than just making an attractive piece of food, photographing and blogging about it. We all know someone who is currently suffering from cancer, has died from it or (hopefully) has made a full recovery. Whilst great leaps are taken every day to cure every type of cancer, it seems that there is always obstacles that cancer sufferers have to work through. Every case of cancer is entirely individual and it is essential that we are do whatever we can to help our loved ones through their pain and suffering. One in three of us will contract a form of cancer so we also need to be vigilant in keeping ourselves healthy: doing regular self-examinations, giving up smoking, using high SPF lotions when out in the sun and nagging at doctors if you feel that something just isn't right. Prevention is the best form of cure but many cancers can be treated if caught very early on.

So, if you haven't yet made your yellow dish and blogged about it, do it today and don't forget to scoot over to Barb's site on the 16th May to coincide with LiveStrong Day and read everyone's amazing posts!