JOANNA'S FOOD: family cooking, from scratch, every day


Monday, October 22, 2007

Nigel Slater's top-10 recipes

In the Observer Food Magazine yesterday, Nigel Slater printed his top-10 recipes ... I've got six of these books, and I've only done one of these recipes. I don't even remember reading the other five, although I've read all six books from cover to cover.

I know all the names on the list bar one; and I'm struck by how many of them appear on television. I don't think any of these people inspire me to cook in the way that other food bloggers do. Which would make it hard for me to come up with a list like this ... a lot of my top-10 recipes are either grubby bits of print-out, or clippings in my feed aggregator.

The only two dishes on this list that I'm really keen to cook are the salt cod croquetas, and the onions. The rest I either don't want to make (rice pudding with double cream? no thank you), or know how to do without looking at a book (roast grouse, devilled crab).

Here's the list in full (and a link to all the recipes):

1. Nigella Lawson's steak bearnaise, from How to Eat

2. Ruth Rogers and Rose Gray's wood-roasted porcini, from River Cafe Cookbook Two

3. Fergus Henderson's devilled crab, from Nose to Tail Eating

4. Jamie Oliver's wok-fried crispy bream, from The Return of the Naked Chef

5. David Thompson's kaffir-lime juice dressed prawns, from Thai Food

6. Rose Prince's poached chicken with leeks, from The New English Kitchen

7. Sam & Sam Clark's salt cod croquetas, from Moro: the Cookbook

8. Ruth Watson's Afghan Rice Pudding, from The Really Helpful Cookbook

9. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's roast grouse and bread sauce, from The River Cottage Meat Book

10. Skye Gyngell's panade of slow-cooked onions with gruyere, from A Year in My Kitchen

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Baked pears with pine nuts



















Delicious, easy ... good enough for dinner, lovely for breakfast with yoghurt.

Baked pears with pine nuts

100g raisins
300ml Marsala
7-8 pears
lemon juice
40g soft dark brown sugar
the seeds of a vanilla pod
40g pine nuts

Heat the oven to 180C. Soak the raisins for half an hour in the warmed Marsala. Halve the pears and scrape out the cores. Put the raisins in the bottom of an ovenproof dish, lay the pears on top, cut side up. Squeeze out the juice of a lemon over the pears, sprinkle with sugar and vanilla seeds, then add the Marsala.

Bake in the oven for 45-50 minutes, adding the pine nuts after half an hour. They should be soft when you take them out of the oven ... serve at room temperature.

This is pretty similar to a recipe by Diana Henry published in the Times recently. If you don't know her book Crazy Water Pickled Lemons, have a look at it next time you're in a library or bookshop, it's full of unusual and good tastes - Middle Eastern, North African and Mediterranean-ish ... but not your run-of-the-mill Med-diet=tomatoes-and-olive-oil+pasta

Saturday, October 20, 2007

All-day fresh corn bread


















If making my daily soda bread is a pleasurable chore, this yeasted corn bread with fresh kernels is the fun side of baking. And, besides, it's another recipe from my friend Tanna, who baked the bread for the crew while crossing the Atlantic in a small yacht. More than once.

This is an enriched bread, light and golden, speckled with corn kernels. Unlike most enriched bread, not a hint of butter - instead, eggs and honey, as well as the kernels. So not an everyday bread ... a special, autumnal treat.

It takes all day, though the yeast does all the work. Tanna started at 10pm and was taking the bread out of the oven at 5am. I am not an early-morning person, so I started at 11.30am with the idea of eating the bread for supper, but got side-tracked in the early evening, so it came out of the oven at 10pm ... we've just eaten some for breakfast, and it'll be brilliant with the soup we're having for lunch. But like all bread, you can adapt the timings to suit your life ... & actually, if you start the first step at 10pm, you could leave the mixture in the fridge, and do the second step at breakfast, rather than at midnight. (And I could have baked my loaves in the morning, again by putting them to rise overnight in the fridge.) Yeast cookery is very forgiving.

I'm giving a link to Tanna's posts about this bread, because they are very inspiring, and because they've got photographs of all the steps, which are useful for anyone who hasn't made much bread. I'm just going to give outine instructions and notes on the changes I made to the original recipe, mainly for my own benefit, because I will want to do this again. The method is just like any other yeast bread. I don't know if you could do this in a breadmaker, I'm afraid, because I've never used one.

Tanna's corn bread

strong white flour
dried yeast
instant polenta
one corn on the cob
two large eggs
honey
olive oil
salt
chili powder

1. Make a poolish by mixing together:

190g strong white bread flour
1 1/2 tsp dried yeast
190g water at room temperature

Leave for two hours. When you return to it, it will be bubbling full of life. I put water straight from the cold tap, because I knew it would be three hours before I got back to it.

2. Add 160g water at room temperature to the poolish.

3. Then mix the dough. Put the following ingredients into the bowl of your mixer:

375g white bread flour
140g polenta (I used the instant sort which is all you can easily buy in a British supermarket)
the kernels cut from one cob
two large eggs
40g honey (2 tbsp)
1 1/2 tbsp olive oil

Add the poolish. Mix with the dough hook for about five minutes until you get a smooth, soft/sticky dough. Tanna says she had to add 2 tbsp of bread flour to get the dough to be manageable, but I found it was fine. But don't start adding flour until you've kneaded it (by machine) for at least four minutes, and then add it a teaspoon at a time, because you don't want this mixture to get too dry (then you'll get hard bread).

At this point Tanna added 2 tbsp salt and 1/8 tbsp Chilpotle Chili powder. I didn't do either. Partly by choice, but also because next time I'd put them in at the same time as the poolish for a better mix. We like to keep salt out of our diet if possible, so I was keen to see how this would turn out without it ... the answer is that it's fine, but another time I'd probably put a pinch of salt. And I'd also put in finely diced fresh red chili.

4. Leave to double. Tanna has a glass bucket with volume markings that she uses, so she knows exactly when the dough has doubled. I'm less scientific, although if I see a similar bucket on sale, I am sure that I will sleepwalk my way to the checkout.

5. Knock the dough back, divide it in two, shape it and put it into two large loaf tins. Let it rise to the top. Brush with beaten egg (I didn't do this, and it was a mistake ... the top caught slightly after 40 minutes in the oven - but, by then, it was cooked anyway).

6. Bake in the oven at 180C for 50-60 minutes, but start checking after 40 minutes.


Thank you Tanna .... this is lovely, a lovely project for a beautiful and delicious autumn treat. And another bread which reminds me of a great day in London filled with laughter and fun.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Our daily soda bread, with yoghurt

I can't remember the last time I bought a loaf of bread, and most of the bread I have been baking has been this remarkably quick and easy soda bread - no yeast required, on the table in under an hour. We haven't got bored with it, because I make it with a variety of different flours ... wholemeal, spelt, five-grain, white, malted - if it looks good in the shop, I'm happy to buy it. This makes a change from the no-knead yeasted oat bread I've been making for the past few weeks.

I used to think that this was second best .. because it's a soda bread, because there's no yeast. Not any more. It's absolutely first-rate, with the added bonus of making baking with yeast seem like a pleasure to look forward to, rather than something else to feel guilty about not doing.

The recipe is a hybrid, using cup measurements for the flour, and a jug measuring mililitres for the liquids - it works for me, so that I can sort out the ingredients in a matter of moments. That's the key - anything to make it easier than going out and buying a loaf in a plastic bag. So it's worth taking the time to work out the easiest way for you to measure this out ... and then you'll find you make a variation of this all the time.

Soda bread with yoghurt

3 cups of flour
granulated sugar
salt
baking powder
400 ml skimmed milk
Greek 0% yoghurt

Heat the oven to 180C

In a large bowl, mix one cup of ordinary white flour with two cups of fancier flour. Add a pinch of salt, a teaspoon of sugar and a tablespoon of baking powder. Measure 400ml of milk into a jug, and mix in one large tablespoon of Greek yoghurt. Add this to the flour and mix well by hand (10 seconds - there's no kneading with soda bread). Pour into a large greased loaf tin and bake for 45 minutes.


Notes:

* If you don't have American cup measures, the flour should weigh 420-450g. It will save a great deal of time if you can equate the amount of flour to a utensil in your kitchen, such as a mug.

* If you like, you can use 400ml beer instead of the milk and yoghurt mixture.

* The mixture I like best is Bacheldre Watermill Malted 5-Seed flour (from Waitrose), which contains sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, golden linseeds, sesame seeds, and fennel seeds. The fennel is particularly noticeable, and I am going to experiment using fennel with other flours.

* It doesn't keep forever, but it's fine the next day.

* If I use buckwheat flour, I reverse the ratio, and use two cups of white, one of buckwheat ... otherwise it makes rather a solid loaf.

* Here's a link to other breads I make - none of them are complicated (this one will come up first until I post about bread again, just scroll down past it to find other ideas).

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Poached barley with herbs























I had a hard time knowing what to call this ... poached barley seems to be the best description, but it could just as easily have been barley risotto. This is a fabulous wholefood accompaniment to lamb stew (I made one last night with the end of a joint of lamb from the weekend, with three times as much onion as meat). It's also good alone, if you make it with good stock.

Now I don't know about you, but I have a bit of a horror of the idea of wholefoods as a concept. It puts me in mind of the 70s - brown food and unkempt beards. And yet I love many of the ingredients that are covered by the word wholefood.

Barley is a case in point - it's one of those underrated ingredients that tend to be ignored by most of us. Certainly it's years since I've cooked it. At school we were given a rather grey lamb stew made with scrag end of neck eked out with lots of flabby barley. (Why did they call it pearl barley?) So, above all, I wanted to avoid overcooking it. And even though it's about as cheap as food gets, I wanted to treat it with care and attention. I've overcome the brown look, taste and texture by chopping in a huge handful of herbs at the end ... yum.

Poached barley with herbs


Pearl barley
Marsala or other wine
Stock
A big handful of herbs

I used a handful of barley per person (it enlarges with cooking, but not alarmingly so), then stirred it around my risotto pan in a little olive oil, exactly as if I was making risotto. When it was nearly sticking, I splashed in a glug of Marsala to loosen it. Then chicken stock to cover. I simmered this for half an hour, without covering, and stirred it from time to time, although no need to stand close by as if making risotto. I topped up the stock after a while, but this is emphatically not a little-and-often topping up as for risotto - this is more of an oops, should have put in more in the first place.

After half an hour, I took it off the heat and let it stand for nearly an hour. I did this mainly for my own convenience, but it had the effect of allowing the grains to absorb more stock without overcooking. Then I reheated it for 10-15 minutes. At this point I chopped in a huge handful of chopped herbs, what I could find in the garden ... parsley, sage, tarragon, a tiny bit of oregano, chives. Rosemary would have been good too, but I didn't think of it as I passed the bush.

Really good; springy grains sweet with the flavours of the stock and the wine, given piquancy by the last of the summer herbs.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Frozen roast potatoes


















We're having a bit of a water crisis here - multiple leaks. Thankfully in the garden, but water pouring out of various pipes. We think Thames Water must have changed the pressure, otherwise why would so many taps and pipes spring leaks simultaneously?

Lucius is hard at work mending them ... it's a struggle, because he's had to work out where the pipes go (we hired a machine which was a 21st century take on a water diviner - our mains water comes in diagonally under the house, and there's a leak in the pipe) ... then dig deep holes, then pump out the water, and only then start sorting out the problems. And so the water is often switched off at weekends. Which makes life tricky in the kitchen.

Roast lamb for lunch today. Couldn't make roast potatoes - you need water to wash off the grainy red earth which locates them as lovely Devon produce. Panic. Rushed out to the supermarket and bought - frozen roast potatoes. I couldn't bring myself to look at the ingredients until I'd got them home and into the oven.


Potato 88%, vegetable oil, batter (wheat flour; modified potato starch; modified tapioca starch; rice flour; salt; skimmed milk powder; dextrose; Colours: curcumin, capsanthin), hydrogenated vegetable oil.

CONTAINS: WHEAT, GLUTEN, MILK.
MADE FROM REAL POTATOES


Not very inspiring, somehow.

I didn't tell the others what I'd done. I asked them what they thought. Good golden colour (although Horatio thought it was suspiciously uniform). Fake. Despite being made from real potatoes (what other kind are there?). Not as nice as yours (phew!). Funny texture. A little like that story Nigel Slater tells in Toast about how he came home from school looking forward to mash for dinner, and found that he was eating a form of wallpaper paste - his stepmother had bought Smash for the first time.

So we won't be doing that again. Next weekend, I'll make sure I've prepared the potatoes before the water goes off - you can peel potatoes a couple of days in advance and keep them covered in water in the fridge, although it's a good idea to change the water after 24 hours. Useful if you've got a huge crowd coming.

Having said all that, I was intrigued by the idea of coating roasties with batter. It reminded me of recipes where the parboiled potatoes are rolled in semolina to give them extra crunch. So I'll try that next time we have roast potatoes ... although if anyone has tried it, I'd be pleased to hear their thoughts.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Lentil soup with ruby chard

Lentil soup for lunch ... which needs careful cooking, because Lucius thinks he doesn't like lentils. He liked this soup, though. It's the autumn version of something I make quite often for a quick, cheap lunch - bosky with mushrooms and vibrant with chard.

Lentil soup with ruby chard

2 medium onions
5 handfuls of red lentils
splash of Marsala or other alcohol
dried mushrooms
good stock
chard

Chop the onions and fry gently in olive oil until golden. Soak a few dried mushrooms in boiling water. Add red lentils - about the same quantity as onions. Stir. Add a splash of Marsala (or wine, or brandy, or whatever you've got - but don't worry if you haven't got anything suitable, it's not essential, but it does add a layer of complexity to the end result).

Drain the mushrooms and add them. Then pour in stock to cover all this, enough to fill two bowls. Measure it in your serving bowls if you like - this works because some of the liquid will evaporate as the soup simmers and cooks. I used chicken stock, which I make virtually every week, an effortless chore which produces something cheaper, better and tastier than anything you can buy. But this is not a competition, it's lunch, so use whatever you've got - homemade, cube/powder, water (and I'd use water in preference to powder/cube).

It takes around 15 minutes for the lentils to cook. During this time, shred some chard or other greens. Add them to the soup when it's ready, they only need to be wilted.

We ate this with a little rosemary citrus salt. Lucius remarked on the complexity of flavours, and barely appeared to notice that he was enjoying lentil soup.

Sorry, once again no photograph. This time because of incompetence: I forgot to switch off the camera yesterday, so the battery was flat, and I don't have a spare. Shame, because the ruby chard made it look so pretty, not that boring brown that is the look of so many lentil dishes.

Smoked haddock for breakfast

There weren't any kippers left by the time I got to Waitrose yesterday evening. They're our favourite Saturday breakfast. What to do? Then I spotted some lovely white smoked haddock ... a little piece cost pennies. Delicious baked with some slow-roasted tomatoes fished out of their oil and a poached egg on top.

Too sleepy to take a photograph. Sorry.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Haddock and prawn stew with saffron

This is chowder-ish ... and fabulous food for tired cooks in a hurry. 30 minutes start to finish (20 if you cheat / have prepared ahead). Fat free, yet deliciously creamy. I made it when I got back from a day in London - having bought the fish at Paddington Station on my way home, which is a bit last-minute if you plan to cook from scratch. I'm not giving amounts, this is a method ... you know how much you eat.

Lucius said it was the best fish stew I'd ever made. Partly the saffron, but also, I think, down to using fresh sweetcorn stripped from the cob with a knife - the work of seconds, as I am sure American cooks know, but British cooks may not. Much better than soggy out of a tin - if that was the only option, I think I'd leave it out.

Haddock and prawn stew with saffron


Chopped onions
Plain flour
Potatoes (I used salad potatoes)
Skimmed milk
White fish (I used haddock)
Prawns (if you like)
Saffron (use whole stamens, 4-5 at least)
Corn on the cob

Chop the onions and stew them gently in a little oil. Use a wide pan. When they are soft, stir in a little flour. Add chunks of potato and just cover with milk. Add several pinches of saffron (if you like, soak them first in warm water, in which case tip in the water too). Simmer gently until the potatoes are nearly cooked. Add chunks of fish and the kernels of sweetcorn. When the fish is nearly cooked, drop in the prawns (I'm talking about the little pink peeled and cooked ones here; this is a midweek supper, nothing too fancy or expensive). The prawns will only need warming through, so take the pan off the heat after a couple of minutes and leave it to stand for another couple of minutes before serving.

The two things that make the difference here are fresh corn, and the saffron - the finished dish is a lovely golden colour, and the smokey musky taste of saffron gives the dish a lift out of the ordinary. It's a dish that's easy enough for midweek, special enough for a party, and versatile enough to cook for a crowd (you could prepare ahead up to putting in the potatoes, stopping after they'd cooked for a couple of minutes, because they'd carry on cooking as the liquid cooled).

Oh yes, remember I said you could cheat? Here's something worth knowing about ... a Spanish product which I've only recently noticed on supermarket shelves: Eazy fried onions. My rule is never to buy ready-prepared products containing ingredients I don't keep in my larder: here we have 90% finely selected onions, 9% olive oil, salt, and citric acid. I dare say the olive oil isn't as good as mine, and it's true that you can taste the citric acid, so this is no good for, say, pissaladiere where the onion is the main point of the dish. But as a short-cut when cooking for a crowd, or when you haven't got any prepared onions in the fridge (I nearly always cook double the amount I need to save time later) ... well, they're great.


This post is to celebrate two years of Weekend Herb Blogging, which comes from Kalyn's Kitchen. Kalyn is a most generous blogger - she was fantastically helpful to us when Ilva and I started Heart of the Matter. WHB has become a food blogger's institution, a great place to look for healthy recipes. Thanks Kalyn ... happy anniversary!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Chilli and pepper chutney

I made this quickly a couple of weeks ago when I was using up the veg in the bottom of the fridge before the arrival of the new organic box. I gave a bottle to Dick, who loves home-made chutney, and kept the other one. I've only just opened it, so it's only now that I know it's good enough to blog. It is, and there's just time to make some before there are no more peppers for the year.

This recipe came from Jamie Oliver in the Telegraph Magazine a few weeks ago; I've got a feeling it's an extract from his new book. I've simplified the method, to make it quicker.

Chilli and pepper chutney


red chillis (I used 4, Jamie specifies 8-10)
8 red peppers
a splash of olive oil
2 chopped onions (mine weren't red, Jamie's were)
a sprig of chopped rosemary leaves
2 bay leaves
2 tsp cinnamon (couldn't find a stick)
salt and pepper
100g brown sugar
150 ml balsamic vinegar

Start by sweating the onion in oil with the seasonings. Do it slowly, it should take at least 20 minutes until they are soft and golden.

If you want to skin your chilli and peppers, do so; I didn't bother. I took out the seeds and cores, then blitzed them all together in the Magimix (I left a few small lumps, but I was concerned not to leave great big bits of chilli, so it ended up quite finely chopped).

Add the pepper and chilli mush, together with the sugar and vinegar. Cook slowly until there's no more liquid. You should keep an eye on it, but you don't need to hang over it all the time; a little stir every so often will stop it sticking. I don't remember how long it took to cook, but allow an hour. It will be dark and thick when it is ready. Pour into sterilised jars (either run them through the dishwasher, or put them in a warm oven for half an hour or so).

You can use this straight away, but all chutneys improve with a bit of keeping.

Roasting tomatoes


















I've roasted a lot of tomatoes this year, because that way we'll have some summer sunshine in the depths of winter. About this time last year I decided that we would never again eat anything out of season, nor would we eat any more air-freighted food. I didn't then realise how boring we would find our winter diet, because I had made no preparations. By spring, everyone was longing for salad leaves, and, above all, for tomatoes (they're just not the same out of a tin, useful though those are).

This year, I am determined that we won't have such a restricted winter palate. One of the things I have been doing is roasting tomatoes for the winter. Some are stored in jars of oil in the fridge, but, this year, while the learning curve is still steep, most are in boxes in the freezer (some are frozen whole, others are already made into sauce).

I've tried several different ways with roasting, and have found that slower really is better. One problem with true slow-roasting is that taking 12 hours to cook a tomato isn't always convenient - you either have to be cutting up toms first thing when you're barely awake, or last thing at night when you'd much rather be brushing your teeth and going to bed. So I've experimented with faster/hotter.

For all these tomatoes, you prepare them the same way: cut them in half, put them cut side up in a roasting pan, sprinkle them with thyme and olive oil. If you like you can add some unpeeled garlic cloves, particularly if you're going to make tomato sauce at the end. If you like you can peel them when they're cooked, but I don't often bother.

Many many people leaving comments on my blog say that they'd like to cook from scratch but don't have time. This is an easy way to begin (and it's not too late to make a start this year, although there's probably only another week or so in southern England). When there's time and energy, a little effort - 10 minutes in two bursts - gives easy fuss-free ingredients for the days to come. You can re-heat them and use them as a vegetable (great on toast for breakfast), or snip them into salads, or onto pasta for an instant sauce.


I've written down the pros and cons of the various ways to roast tomatoes, mainly because I'll have forgotten by next summer, but also to help you with any end-of-season glut. I wonder if it would work with green tomatoes? Please let me know if you have any information on that.


Here's a list of findings:


1. Alanna's slow-roasted tomatoes are the best, the Rolls Royce of tomato roasting. Put them on at 100C max, and they'll take at least 12 hours, depending on their size.

2. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's method given in the Guardian on 18 August 2007, is to put them in a medium oven 180C for 45 minutes to an hour. This is fine if you are in a hurry, but doesn't bring out all the sweetness of the fruit, so makes a slightly uninteresting result (this is the counsel of perfection, they're fine, it's just that you can do better for no more real effort). Great for when you're going on to make ketchup or sauce.

3. Skye Gyngell says that she slow-roasts tomatoes at 100C for 3-4 hours. I haven't tried this, because I can't believe you'd get a good result after so short a time at that low temperature.

4. Nigella Lawson has something she calls moonblush tomatoes. Here, you put them into a very hot oven, 220C, and switch it off straight away. You then leave them for 12 hours. This is best done overnight, because it is really important that you don't disturb them until everything has come right down to room temperature. I did it with small tomatoes, as specified, and had to give them a bit of a blitz in a warm oven at the end. I think you'd need to use cherry tomatoes for a decent result. That said, it's a useful way of using residual heat from the oven if you've been cooking in the evening.

5. When Sarah Raven roasts cherry tomatoes for pasta (with balsamic vinegar and honey added to the usual ingredients specified above), she pricks them all so that she can skin them easily when they're cooked, and she puts them in at 180C for 20 minutes. Hmm. But in her defence, she's not actually cooking these to conserve.

6. Mary Berry's Aga-Dried Tomatoes specify six hours in the simmering oven, which should be 120C. I have done this, and it works. Not so long as Alanna's recipe, so easier to fit into your life. A good compromise.

7. 2-3 hours at 150-160C is even easier to fit into your life, and much better than one hour at 180C.



All of these can be stored completely covered in oil in a sealed jar kept in the fridge. They should last 3-4 months. The tomato-y flavoured oil can be used for cooking. They can also be stored in boxes in the freezer. You can make them into sauce and ketchup before freezing if you like.

Roasted tomato ketchup

I made this earlier in the summer, it's from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Guardian column. Compared to Heinz it was a bit of a disappointment. Not very nice on the side of your plate, mainly because of the inevitable comparison with Heinz TK, which we all know and love. I wasn't going to bother to post it, but I am doing so now because I WILL make it again next year, as I've found it wonderfully useful to add to all sorts of cooking - gravy, soup, stew, etc etc. It really needs another name, to avoid invidious comparisons.

Roast tomato ketchup


1 litre of sieved roasted tomatoes
100g soft brown sugar
100 ml cider vinegar
1 tbps ground black pepper
pinch of ground mace
pinch of cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/2 tsp ground coriander seeds
2 bay leaves

Put everything into a large saucepan on a low heat. Stir frequently - first to help the sugar dissolve, then to stop it sticking. After about 45 minutes at a gentle bubble, it should be thick enough to bottle.

You should keep this in the fridge; I imagine that it would freeze well, too, although then you might not want to put it into a glass bottle.


There's just time to make some of this with the last of the summer's tomatoes. I wonder what it would taste like made with green tomatoes?

Home-made vanilla extract



















Lovely, easy-peasy recipe, the sort you just have to try straight away. Christmas presents (if you start this week). Once you've started, it can go on forever with the smallest effort. Melissa, at The Traveller's Lunchbox, whose idea it was in the first place, says this dark fragrant liquid gets more complex as time goes on. Lovely for baking.

This is what you do:

Get a one-litre jar. Put in all the pure vanilla extract you've got (I had 1/3rd of a bottle). DO NOT use that chemical vanilla essence; if you don't have any extract, leave out this step, it will just take a little longer to brew. Add cheap vodka, or any other spirits (rum? gin?). Chuck in all the vanilla pods in the house (at least six). Seal. Put somewhere cool and dark. Forget it. Add used vanilla pods when you think about it (rinse off the custard first!).

After at least six weeks, but the longer the better, strain off a little of the liquid into a tiny bottle. Add more spirit and more beans. (You can take out some old ones at this point if you like.) Seal. Put somewhere cool and dark. Forget it. Add used vanilla pods when you think about it (rinse off the custard first!). And so on, and so on, and so on.

If you think you might get into large-scale production, here's a link for buying vanilla in bulk in the UK. For the moment, I'm going to stick to buying it in Waitrose.











I'm including this in Heart of the Matter 8: Baking, which I'm hosting this month, because it occurs to me that this strongly-flavoured essence of vanilla would be wonderful for adding complex flavour to baking with little or no fat ... it's a sad fact of life that a lot of the flavour in all cooking comes from fat, particularly saturated fats - which means that, if you take those out of your cooking, you need to work hard on bringing in flavours from elsewhere.

Thanks, Melissa!

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Spaghetti con funghi


















Sometimes the simplest really is the best. This was Lettice's order of spaghetti con funghi at the little cafe in Valvona and Crolla in Edinburgh in August. Pasta, good olive oil, mushrooms quickly fried in oil, parsley. What more could you want?

Now, of course, is THE mushroom moment - except that it isn't. Normally at this time of year our garden is full of wild mushrooms to pick and eat (especially the puffballs, which appear the size of footballs overnight, and which you can slice thick and fry in oil and eat like a vegetarian sirloin steak). But this year, so far, not a one, and I've looked in all the places we normally find funghi.

My mother-in-law had a novel approach to identifying fungus when she lived here: she had a little pamphlet called Poisonous Mushrooms of Great Britain. If it wasn't in the book, she ate it.

I always thought I'd like to adopt the same cavalier attitude until our friend Richard Fortey came to inspect our garden one warm October. He's a naturalist with many interests, and his advanced knowledge of fungi makes him one of the Oxfordshire county mushroom specialists - for example, the police might turn to him in a case of serious suspected mushroom poisoning. He found something like 17 different types of small fungi on the croquet lawn alone: he laid them out on a plate, some of them so similar it was hard to tell them apart. Two were looked to my untrained eyes virtually identical - well, one was edible, the other highly poisonous. Since then, I've stuck to the ones I know are fine, which we eat every year.

It's pouring with rain here now, for the first time in weeks. Fingers crossed for a couple of warm days once it stops ... and then I'll be out looking for field mushrooms and puffballs - but not on the croquet lawn!

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Low-fat blueberry muffins


















Help! I've never made a muffin before, and they didn't turn out as well as they should have done: they weren't particularly well cooked through after 25 minutes in a hot oven, and they didn't rise much. However, they were extremely tasty, and with a pretty good texture (on the outside parts that were cooked). So I'll make them again ... if someone can tell me how to cook them better - longer? hotter oven? or just a bit more baking powder? I'd really appreciate some advice ...

Low-fat blueberry muffins










150g plain flour
50g granulated sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

2 eggs
50 ml sunflower oil
175 ml skimmed milk
finely grated lemon zest

150g blueberries

Sift together the dry ingredients. Whisk together the wet ingredients, and fold this into the flour mixture. Add the blueberries, and spoon into a 12-cup muffin tin (preferably lined with papers, otherwise well oiled).

Bake at 200C for 20-25 minutes.


What could I do better to make these muffins rise higher and cook through?



This post is for Heart of the Matter 8: Baking, which I am hosting this month. I'm sure many of you know the "rules" by now, but here's a recap: all you have to do is to send me the link to your entry at joannacary AT ukonline DOT co DOT uk before 23 October, make a link to Joanna's Food and to the HotM blog as well if you like. I'll post the round up on both blogs. In order to keep the focus on heart health we ask you to consider this as a one-entry event, i.e. we prefer that you don't use your post for other events as well.

I'm really looking forward to reading all your recipes and tips ...

PS you CAN include bread in this if you want, but I think we might save that for another time ....

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Spiced chicken livers

















These are quick, easy, delicious, low-fat, a treat ... and something you should try even if you think you don't like liver (like my pasta con sarde for sardine haters). The gentle spicing emphasises the creamy sweetness of the meat. I can't tell you what a treat this is, at £1.59p for 400g organic chicken liver in Waitrose (and I think organic is probably a given for liver).

This recipe is from Good Tempered Food by Tamasin Day-Lewis.

Spiced chicken livers

400g chicken livers
1 1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp Maldon salt
1 tsp peppercorns
2 dssp flour

Dry fry the cumin and coriander seeds until they start to brown. Tip them into a bowl and bash them with a pestle or the end of a rolling pin. Add the flour and the rest of the spices. Coat the livers in this mixture, and fry in hot olive oil for a couple of minutes each side.

Serve on a bed of mixed leaves with the juices poured over.

This will do two for a light lunch, or 4-5 as a starter.


PS Some of you may be surprised to see a recipe for chicken liver on this blog, because it is high in dietary cholesterol. This is disputed stuff, but my understanding is that dietary cholesterol is not on the banned list, as it does not translate into the kind of cholesterol that clogs up arteries. Here's up-to-date information on dietary cholesterol from Harvard, where a lot of the research has been carried out.

Meme: change begins at home










Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.
Edmund Burke

Melanie at Bean Sprouts has very kindly nominated me for her new Change Begins at Home award. Those who live with me know full well how little I deserve this ... I have long thought that my blog makes me sound a lot further down the road than I really am. Smug, even (at breakfast this morning I read in a newspaper someone describe baking bread as a smug activity ... now I am fretting, but I suspect I should really be giving up reading newspapers).

I nominate Riana at Garlic Breath, whose year of no shopping has evolved into a slow food life ... find the post about the melons she scrumped, it's very funny ... and the one about the death of her father-in-law, no longer at the head of the table, which I found moving because it was so understated.

The award rules are:

1. Nominate three bloggers who epitomise "Change begins at home"

2. Link back to the person who nominated you, and link back to Melanie's original explanation of Change begins at home

3. When you receive the award, you may display the "Change begins at home" button on your blog.


Thanks, Melanie!

Update on yeast in quick oat loaf



















The quick oat loaf I made the other day was finished up at breakfast this morning, and is particularly good toasted. However, it was a little too yeasty ... I specified 2 tsp dried yeast, when one would have done. All because I couldn't find the little bit of paper that floats around my kitchen and study with the yeast conversion amounts. Here it is:

10g fresh yeast = 5g dried yeast = 3g fast yeast (the sort that comes in 7g packets)

Friday, October 05, 2007

Free Burma

This post is in support of the peaceful and lawful protests which have been taking place in Burma, a day of action by bloggers lucky enough to live in the free world to highlight the part played by brave Burmese bloggers who have played such a crucial role in telling the world what is happening in Burma.


Free Burma!


There's something clever you can do to turn the graphic into a hyperlink, but I'm not techie enough, so here's the link to Free Burma. Please follow it, and do what you can today to support the people of Burma.


Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little.

Edmund Burke

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Quick oat loaf

I've been making a lot of soda bread recently, in fact I can't remember when I last bought a loaf of bread - if there's no bread in the house, I can have one on the table in less than an hour. Easier than a trip to the shops. But I can't help feeling that making bread without using yeast is cheating.

So I'm making a starter (because the last one died of neglect), and I'm trying this lazy loaf ... it's proving in the oven as I write this.

Quick oat loaf

200g rolled oats
325g spelt flour
2 tsp dried yeast (see update on this)
1 tsp Maldon salt
250 ml skimmed milk
250 ml water

Mix the dry ingredients, add the liquids. Stir to a porridge. Leave to soak for 20 minutes to soften the oats (don't bother if you're in a hurry).










Dollop into a large loaf tin and put it into your cold oven. Switch it on to 110C. After 45 minutes, turn it up to 180C and cook for an hour.











The method comes from Nigella Express, but I've changed the ingredients around so that it's bread, rather than a tea loaf. The oats and spelt make it a healthy and tasty alternative to a wheat loaf.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Hokey pokey / cinder toffee / honeycomb

It's not exactly healthy, but it's certainly fat-free ... a low cholesterol treat. It's fun and easy to make, and you don't have to be exact with the quantities, because all the recipes you'll ever find for it vary a little.

Hokey pokey / cinder toffee / honeycomb

100-200g caster sugar
4 tbsp golden syrup
1 tbsp bicarbonate of soda

Grease a tin. Or use a piece of greased parchment/foil (that's what Nigella suggests). Stir the sugar and syrup together in a large saucepan, then bring to the boil. When it's a nice golden colour (a couple of minutes), take it off the heat and stir in the bicarb. It will whoosh up. Turn this golden cloud onto your greased surface and wait until it's set. Bash it up.

It's hard to find treats for people on low-cholesterol diets - another one worth trying is my pretend fudge - which many people prefer to the real deal!

PS: You could coat your hokey pokey / cinder toffee / honeycomb in chocolate for a do-it-yourself Crunchie (how ON EARTH do they get it so straight?).

Meme: Nice matters














Tanna, bless her, has nominated me a nice blogger. There was a time, in my teens and 20s, when I would have thought that nice was a bit of an insult, but now I regard it as a great compliment. Nice ... I'm not sure what I've done to deserve it, but THANKS Tanna.

This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. Once you’ve been awarded, please pass it on to 7 others who you feel are deserving of this award.

Well, of course I'd really like to nominate Tanna for this one, but then we'd be going round in ever-decreasing circles. She's kind, she's fun, her oat bread is FANTASTIC ...

So instead: there's Melanie at Bean Sprouts, who writes about her allotment, her bees, recycling, green issues ... she's a busy lady, but she always finds time to answer questions and be helpful to those who are taking their first steps on a sustainable journey. Nice ..

Amanda at Figs Olives Wine is always there with a supportive comment, and finding a post on her beautiful blog always makes my day. Nice ...

I'm also going to nominate Susan Beth and Kevin at A Year in Bread, because the whole blog is such a nice thing to do: they're each posting a monthly discussion of a particular aspect of baking bread - it makes for fascinating reading, because three master bakers have such very different ideas about the same topic. Nice ...

Everything about Hannah's Country Kitchen is nice - her gentleness, the recipes, the cakes she decorates for her family.

It was nice to find an instant response to my plea for heart-healthy cake and biscuits. It came from Bee, her first comment on my blog. When I followed the link, I found a wonderful site, Dining Hall, dedicated to helping food bloggers with technical issues. Nice? I should say so.

And, of course, there's Ilva, my co-host at Heart of the Matter. Lucullian Delights is the nicest possible start to the day - a beautiful photograph, some thought-provoking words, a fresh-tasting recipe.

Monday, October 01, 2007

HotM 8: Baking














Baking, for those watching their cholesterol and seeking a heart-healthy diet, is a minefield. I am the sort of blogger who would enthusiastically join the Daring Bakers - but all that cooking we can't eat ... it seems a little crazy. All those eggs, all that butter. There's only so much bread you can eat.

In the three years since Lucius's heart attack, I've found delicious ways round lots of the problems - what to do instead of cheese, how to make delicious heart-healthy puds that feel indulgent - but I've never really cracked cake. Or biscuits. I bought by mail-order a book called Low-fat Baking by Linda Fraser. I've never cooked anything from it, or felt remotely tempted to do so. I nearly threw it out last month. Now, this October, I'm giving it one last chance. And I'm going to share the results with you.

You'll have realised by now that this post is a cry for help ... we're looking for heart-healthy baking recipes. That means NO butter and not much marge. Not many egg yolks. No cream. No cheese to speak of. Not a lot of oil, even if it is olive oil. You see the problem. Off the top of my head, we're down to meringues and macaroons. As we're all after a healthier lifestyle, and as SO many food bloggers like to bake, I feel sure that you've all got at least one delicious yet low-fat cake or biscuit recipe that you use in your kitchen ... you'd be doing me, and countless others, a huge favour if you'd share it.


I'm sure many of you know the "rules" by now, but here's a recap: all you have to do is to send me the link to your entry at joannacary AT ukonline DOT co DOT uk before 23 October, make a link to Joanna's Food and to the HotM blog as well if you like. I'll post the round up on both blogs. In order to keep the focus on heart health we ask you to consider this as a one-entry event, i.e. we prefer that you don't use your post for other events as well.

I'm really looking forward to reading all your recipes and tips ...

PS you CAN include bread in this if you want, but I think we might save that for another time ....

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Polyunsaturated herb dumplings for stew

When we were in Edinburgh, I was talking to a Scots nationalist who said, irritatingly, that the English had no sense of their own identity. I thought - think - that he is wrong, but it is undoubtedly true that we are not assiduous cooks of our indiginous cuisine.

So yesterday, to go with an oxtail stew, I made dumplings. Nice, light, polyunsaturated dumplings. With parsley. Delicious. And very English. Better than haggis, no?

4 oz plain flour (it was a very ancient cookery book, this sort of cooking is deeply unfashionable, but that's to say 125g)
2 level tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 oz (30-40g) heart-healthy margerine (I used Flora)
1 egg (next time I'll use only the white)
a handful of chopped parsley
a little skimmed milk

Mix the flour, salt, baking powder, then rub in the marge. I did this in a Magimix. Add the chopped parsley and egg, then a little milk to bind it all into a stiff dough. You won't need much, in fact, the less you use, the lighter the dumplings will be.

Flour your hands, then make little marble-sized balls of dough, and drop them into your piping hot stew 20 minutes before you want to eat. When you take the lid off, they'll be three or four times the size, light and airy.


A lovely old-fashioned treat, and particularly good when there are lots of people wanting to eat not much stew ... which I suppose is why they were invented in the first place. And not a hint of saturated fat (once you've removed the egg yolk, which is only there to add flavour, but you don't need that if there are plenty of herbs, and if your stew is tasty).

Friday, September 28, 2007

Steak with lemon and thyme

Delicious dinner last night for me and Horatio, while Lucius was out singing (Mozart Mass in C) - get the butcher to cut an extra-thick sirloin or rump steak (say, two inches). Grill it for four minutes on each side, then rest it for four minutes a side in a bath of olive oil, thyme, juice and zest of a lemon, salt and plenty of pepper. Cut it across in ribbons. Lovely rare meat, without the is-it? isn't-it? bother we always seem to have with individual steaks.

From Nigella Express. Good, but not that quick, by the time you've made a salad and - in this house - organised the potatoes. But it's easy, providing you've done the shopping well, at a butcher, rather than a supermarket, and would be particularly good to multiply up for a crowd.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Sweet peas in autumn
























Yesterday, at dusk, I heard the weather forecast. Cold night. I ran out into the gloom with my flower scissors and cut what I thought would be the last bunch of sweet peas for the year. The smell in my study this morning was overpowering.

A quick check in the garden shows that I was being unnecessarily gloomy; there are still many sweet peas worth picking, all of them this lovely variety with two names, Matucana, or Cupani's Original - a much better name as it hints at the history (it arrived in Britain from Sicily in the 17th century, sent by a monk named Cupani). This is the mother of all sweet peas, the first, the one with the strongest scent, the one with hints of all the colours that have been bred into a cultivated sweet pea. My favourite.











It can't last, we are past the equinox, and sweet peas respond to light. I've been picking them three or four times a week since the beginning of May. Although I grow other sweet peas, Cupani's original is my favourite - the strongest scent, the first to flower, the last to die back, with its beautiful maroon and purple flowers. How could all those nurserymen have thought they could improve on nature's own sweet pea?













PS the dahlia in the corner of this picture is a stunner, David Howard ... the photograph doesn't do it justice, I'll post a better one soon

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Gorgonzola with honey


















We don't eat cheese very much, it's on the very-nearly-banned list for anyone who's had a heart attack. If you look at my basic rules post, you'll see that, if possible, it should be only once a week, and no more than a matchbox sized piece at once.

Well, we like cheese in this house, so that was a problem. Not just the end-of-a-meal slice, but the cheese I used to use in my cooking. Slowly I found solutions, often using breadcrumbs flavoured with citrus and rosemary, or anchovies - some of the posts are grouped together under the tag instead of cheese.

But every so often, only a piece of cheese will do. Then it has to be the best I can find: in the winter, a little Vacherin, the ultimate smelly cheese; proper Cheddar from Somerset, wrapped in cloth ... or Gorgonzola, the king of blue cheeses.

At Valvona and Crolla, they serve Gorgonzola drizzled with honey, sprinkled with pine nuts, and with a pile of oatcakes. Heaven ... especially for those of us that like to honour the little cheese that we eat.

Monday, September 24, 2007

How to date a hedge


















To get to our house, you go up a single-track lane lined on both sides with a hedge - not, on the face of it, a very remarkable hedge - it's often untidy to look at, the rabbits have damaged its roots, there are no eye-catching exotics. It's a very English hedgerow. And yet, as we discovered a few years ago, it is an important part of our heritage: living history, home to hundreds of species - mainly insects, which in turn support birds and other wildlife. On the lane we regularly see little owls, barn owls, many finches, woodpeckers, partridges.

This post is for Amanda at Little Foodies, and anyone else who is out foraging for blackberries or sloes .... a little bit about dating hedges, which may turn your afternoon into a history project, as well as a kitchen adventure.

Years ago, Eleanor - then aged about 10 or 11 - and I set about trying to find out the age of the Huntswood hedge. It is obviously ancient: the lane itself is sunken, a sure indicator of age, there are fully mature self-sown oak trees, there is a multiplicity of native species (and no exotics). But exactly how ancient?










Hooper's Rule (first published in 1974 in Hedges by Dr Max Hooper) is:

Age = (no of species in a 30 yard stretch) x 110 + 30 years


Or, to put it another way, pace out a thirty-yard stretch, count the individual woody shrubs and trees, multiply by 110 and add 30 .... and you'll get an idea, a best guess. You have to count all the different types of hawthorn as one species, you mustn't count seedlings, you don't get such a good result if there's elm about (I wish - the elms round here all succumbed to Dutch elm disease in the late 70s early 80s). According to Wikipedia, it doesn't work so well in the north of England. Oh, and it doesn't work at all on a planted hedge, however old.

Hooper's Rule is somewhat controversial - we wanted to date the hedge for a public inquiry about whether the lane was a public right of way (new neighbours said not, and spent a great deal of energy trying - fruitlessly, as it turned out - to prevent nice people from walking their dogs there). It's not the kind of evidence that can be accepted on its own, documentary back-up is required (!). It's also better if you do several 30 yard stretches.

But it's fun to do - you may, like us, have to do a bit of work to identify all the different species. The hedge itself, however old it turns out to be, is a piece of living history, the best possible habitat for the widest number of species (better than anything you plant yourself). Once you've completed your survey, the hedge will never be an invisible part of the background for you again. And, of course, you'll know exactly where to go foraging in autumn.











PS, I forgot to say ... we found that this hedge was about 1,000 years old.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Sticky sloe vodka


















Earlier this week I picked some sloes - including the ones in the picture - and combined them with vodka and rather a lot of soft brown sugar to make a stickier version of the usual liqueur. At least, I hope that's what will happen. If not, I'll add some more sugar when I bottle it. I don't quite see the point of a tart liqueur, which is what you get with the usual sloe gin recipe (450g sloes / 250g white sugar / one litre gin).

Sticky sloe vodka


450g sloes
450g soft brown sugar
most of a litre of vodka
a 1 1/2 litre Le Parfait bottling jar

I can't say that I'm using vodka to get the "cleaner" flavour some people write about - I've never noticed the all-pervading taste of juniper in sloe gin; it was more a case of - oh good, there's some vodka in the cupboard.

You do have to prick the sloes, but one hole is enough, and if you do it with a fork you can prick two at once. It doesn't take long, and, although your fingers get blue, the dye washes off easily. Put everything into the jar, seal and shake. Keep in a cool dark place, and shake it up fairly regularly.

This will be ready for bottling at the very earliest the week before Christmas. It will be better to wait until the week before next Christmas, but I do see that may not be possible. On the other hand, you may forget all about it, and discover it some years later, in which case it will also be fine. Bottling is easy if you have both a large funnel and a fine plastic sieve.



Really thrifty people use the sloes in baking after they've bottled up the liqueur, but then you really do have to take out the stones, because, in truth, a sloe is more stone than flesh. Flapjacks seem to be the preferred option. Lazy people don't bother to strain this, in which case they often put the sloes straight into a bottle. This is more trouble than using a jar. (I have never done the thrift thing, but I have done the lazy thing. And the forgetting thing.)

This type of seasonal preserving is quick and easy; it's not exactly food for free (all that vodka!), but it's definitely making the most of what's free in the hedges - and it's a lovely winter treat, either to drink, or to use in cooking, or to pour on ice cream. It also has the bonus of making you feel rather clever.

PS: There's a lot of debate about whether or not you should wait until the first frost before picking sloes. Even in a good year such as this, waiting until the first frost means that the birds will get them - they know far better than we where the best bushes are ... indeed, there were blackbirds nesting in the hedge less than a foot away from where I was picking.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Marrow Zanzibar


















Years ago, an old family friend, the historian Christopher Hibbert, used to grow vegetables in our orchard, as he no longer had enough space in his own garden after a house move. Our daughter Eleanor, then at primary school, used to "help" him, but, really, she was drawn both by Christopher's charisma and his generous gifts of sweets.

The kitchen gardening was an extension of Christopher's interest in good food, particularly Italian food - he spent a lot of time in Italy researching various books (his guides to Rome, Venice and Florence are wonderful company in those cities), and he likes an Italian restaurant better than any other sort. Sadly, though, the allotment was too much of a struggle - rabbits, poor soil, deer, all conspired to make him give up our patch in favour of one in another friend's garden. Now I struggle with the same pests.

Christopher introduced me to the delights of tiny turnips, and he gave me this recipe for the courgette glut. It works with small ones, but is particularly useful for courgettes which have got out of hand. You may be fearful before trying this - it goes against the grain of modern cooking, which so often says you should barely heat vegetables - but, trust me, boiling the courgettes to death really does make for a delicious dish. I'm giving Christopher's original instructions, with my notes and observations below. I haven't made this for years, because I lost the paper he gave me - it came to light this week in a baking book I used to use frequently when the children were small.

Marrow Zanzibar

1 medium marrow
1 medium onion, chopped
1 crushed garlic clove
1 tsp celery seed
1 tsp lemon thyme
2 bay leaves
6 cloves
1 tbsp tomato puree
2 tbsp salad oil
2 tbsp vinegar
2 tbsp caster sugar
1 dsp salt
bit of cayenne pepper
3 oz sultanas

Peel marrow, split lengthwise, remove seeds, cut into 1-inch cubes, put into saucepan and add all ingredients. Add enough water to cover the marrow. Stir mixture.

Bring to boil, cover with greaseproof paper and lid. Simmer in oven at medium heat for 60-90 minutes.

Serve as hot veg or cold as hors d'oeuvre.


I think it's called Zanzibar because of the cloves; the finished result is redolent of Venice and Scicily, and is particularly good if you like those sort of dishes but aren't too keen on capers. The cayenne gives that extra note which capers give in, say, caponata (two different cheat's versions I've blogged are here and here), so don't leave it out, even if you don't care for too much heat in your food (just used less); most of the heat is absorbed by the bland courgette, so your mouth doesn't burn.


Notes

You can use 5-6 courgettes rather than a marrow.

I don't have celery seed in the house as a rule, so I use 2 tsp celery salt and leave out the dessertspoon of salt which is specified later - which is, in any case, far more salt than I would ever use in any dish.

I used olive oil yesterday, because that was all there was in the house, but sunflower oil would be just as good.

Don't be too faint-hearted about the water - it vanishes. But I don't use the greaseproof paper, because I want to be sure that the water evaporates (and because it's a fiddle). And I made this at a gentle simmer on the hob for just over an hour - fine if you don't want to switch on the oven specially.


PS I'm reading Christopher's biography of Garibaldi, my interest having been sparked by a one-man show about the risorgimento we saw during the Edinburgh Festival at the Scottish Storytelling. Centre

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Stuffed quince with nohutlu pilav


















This was our dinner on Monday night ... good, but in need of further tinkering to make it perfect; the quince lends sweetness to the mince, while the flesh which is left in the shells is surprisingly sharp.

It comes from Claudia Roden's Arabesque, a taste of Turkey, Morocco and Lebanon

Ayva dolmasi
for 2

2 medium quinces
one chopped onion
olive oil
2 tablespoons pine nuts
100g lean mince (I used beef, but I think lamb would be better)
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
less than 1/2 tsp ground allspice
salt and pepper

Bake the quinces whole in a moderate oven, 170C, until they are soft. This will take at least an hour.

Soften the onion in oil, the add the pine nuts and keep turning them until they are golden. Put the mince into a bowl with the spices, and work them to a paste with your hands. Add the onions when they are cool enough to handle, and work them in too.

Cut the quinces in half lengthways and remove the core. Spoon out most of the flesh, taking care not to tear the skins. Add this to the mince, and then press the mixture into the quince. Bake for half an hour at 180C.



Serve with pilau rice: I made nohutlu pilav, the chickpea and rice dish which was served by Sultan Mehmet the Conqueror (who captured Constantinople in 1453) at the Topkapi Palace. A little gold ball in the shape of a chickpea was hidden in the rice, each guest hoping that they would be the one to find it. This version omits the gold.

Nohutlu pilav for 3-4

250g basmati rice
400ml homemade stock (better to use water than a cube, I think)
one small onion, chopped
half a tin (sorry!) of chickpeas, rinsed and drained

Bring the stock (or water) to the boil. Add the rice. Bring back to the boil, clamp on a lid and cook gently, undisturbed, for 15-20 minutes. Towards the end of the cooking time, you may need to check that there is enough liquid. You will know the rice is cooked when all the liquid has been absorbed and there are little holes all over the surface of the rice. Leave it to rest for a few minutes while you prepare the chickpeas. Gently fry the onion until soft and golden. Add the chickpeas and warm through. Stir this through the rice.


I love this taste of the middle east, although I think this particular recipe, again Claudia Roden, would be improved by the addition of saffron. Better than a gold nugget.

This autumnal, seasonal supper would be great for a party: you could prepare the quince ahead, giving it a little longer in the oven. The pilau could also be made beforehand, in which case it should be reheated, tightly covered, in a moderate oven for 15-20 minutes. Easy.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Quince liqueur
























The distinctive and heady scent of quince transports me instantly to childhood and my grandmother's kitchen in 1950s Oxford. She used to make a delicious jam from fruit given to her by a neighbour, and it was a long job cutting the hard fruit into tiny cubes.

We have a quince in our garden, planted about 25 years ago by my mother-in-law, who used to put a few slices of poached quince into her stewed apple, rather in the way you might add a couple of cloves.

I make quince jam and jelly regularly, and this year, for the first time, I'm making quince liqueur - not to drink (although it's perfectly drinkable), but to use in my cooking throughout next year. It was a quick job, thanks to the Magimix, which made very short work of grating the fruit. I used Jane Grigson's recipe from her Fruit Book.

Quince liqueur

a one-litre preserving jar
3 quinces
60g caster sugar
about 600 ml vodka

Wipe the fluff from the quince with a dry cloth. Cut them in half so that they will fit into the feeder tube of the Magimix. Grate - yes, really, the whole fruit, skin, pips and all. The scented fruit will more or less fill your jar. Add the sugar, then the vodka, making sure that all the fruit is covered. Seal. Put in a dark place for a couple of months - there's no need to turn it.

This will need straining in December or January, at which point more sugar could be added. And then it will add a useful flavouring note to savoury as well as sweet dishes; quince is not only distinctive, it is also very strong - one quince on the kitchen table can scent a whole house.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Cheesy peasy pasta


















Last month, at the Edinburgh Festival, we had lunch one day in the little cafe at the back of Valvona and Crolla, the great Italian deli. Pizza and pasta all round. The photo shows a delicious pea pasta dish which I ordered, because I love vegetarian pasta. This half-remembered dish was the inspiration for lunch on Saturday. Heart-healthy, quick, easy, suitable for one to - well, how big is your pan?

Cheesy peasy pasta for 2

2 handfuls of pasta
100g light Philadelphia
a little skimmed milk
2 cloves of garlic, chopped finely
a handful of peas
pepper
a little finely-grated parmesan

Start by boiling the water for your pasta (I used shells). Then, on a very low heat, melt the Philly with a little skimmed milk, enough to make the sauce liquid, together with the garlic. Put the peas on when you start cooking the pasta. Drain the cooked peas and add to your sauce; grate in a little parmesan for seasoning. Mix this into the drained pasta (you can use some of the cooking water to loosen the sauce if you weren't bold enough with the milk!). You could chop in a little mint, but it isn't necessary.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Quick crushed roasted potatoes

I am aware that, for a heart-healthy blog, there's been a recent emphasis on roasting potatoes. My family are all very keen on roast potatoes (although I'd happily forego them), and, I suppose, I keep on experimenting in the hope that I've found something both healthy and properly crunchy and delicious. My defence, therefore, is that I'm trying to crack this problem ... but it would be true to say that I also think that food should be joyful, and, in this house, that means roast potatoes.

I managed to blog about Nigella's squid without actually confessing that I now have a copy of the book of the TV series. This time I can't get away with it; the method you are about to read is in a show that has yet to be aired. (This week? next week? I've saved you the bother of all that irritating simpering.)

This is what you do: wrap little new potatoes loosely in a clean tea cloth, and bash them with the end of a rolling pin until they are all crushed open. Tip them into a roasting dish, toss in as little oil as you can manage, and roast them in a hot oven for about 35-40 minutes. (Nigella gets the cooking time down to under 10 minutes by frying them, but I think you'd really have to use a lot more oil, and, besides, you have to watch them.)

Notes:

I'm using a tea towel because I can't bear the idea that everything we eat involves plastic, ie oil, ie geo-political problems. This is a small start, and an easy one, because you don't notice a tea towel in the next wash.

If you have a large mortar, you could probably pestle them. Mine is too small, but I'm rather taken with this one belonging to David Lebovitz

The whole exercise is rather therapeutic

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Shaken hot-water pastry



















This recipe is so good, so staple, that I'm giving it again ... here, we ate it with onions, anchovies and olives - a pissaladiere - but it's infinitely variable, is quick, easy, delicious, and HAS NO BUTTER.

And for those who think that cholesterol-watching is a joyless activity, dooming you to eat horrible food, just a reminder that this is a real, traditional French recipe ... amazing, really, that it ever fell from our consciousness.

Shaken hot-water pastry

225g flour
1 tbsp caster sugar (leave it out if you're making something savoury)
1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
4 tbsp mild salad oil
1/2 beaten egg
3 tbsp hot water

Put all the ingredients into a lidded plastic box and shake it for at least a minute. When you take off the lid, you will find a lumpy mixture; form it into a ball with your hands, and roll it out on a floured surface. The original recipe says this is enough for a 24cm tin, but I have made this a number of times, and find that it is rather too much for a 24cm tin, better in the next size up, because this pastry is better when it is very thin. You can use this straight away, no need to rest it.


As I said in my previous post on this pastry, the recipe comes from Geraldene Holt's French Country Kitchen, a wonderful book worth following up if you've never seen it. Actually, everything of hers I have is worth reading and re-reading, she is one of THE great cookery writers. It's amazing that she's not better known, but I suppose it has something to do with the recent ascendence of Italian cookery in this country, accompanied by the falling from grace - or at any rate fashion - of French food.