Having a meal of crunchy crudités with bowls of Middle East inspired dips doesn't have to just be for a party; the meal scores very highly as a light dinner for your family. Unfortunately, (I don't wish to sound deep but here goes) families can be beaten by the hardships of a day by teatime, and one lacks a dinner with the principles of sitting round a table whilst eating- conversation and activity. That's where this type of meal comes in- with a little light prep, you can prepare a meal that glistens with crunching jaws and tête-à-tête.
This may seem disgustingly precious, but I have included a recipe for hummus here. I cook (well, prepare) the dip very often, and there are infinite ways of varying it- today, I took a harissa approach.
1)In a food processor, blend a drained tin of chickpeas (ones in jars or ones you've soaked and cooked yourself are superior in taste, however), a little salt (go lightly until you taste it, then season accordingly) pepper, the juice of a lemon, a glug of garlic oil, a few teaspoons of harissa, a blob of natural yoghurt and a generous blob of tahini, a sesame paste that is available in most supermarkets. If you can't find it, use a smaller amount of peanut butter. The reason I'm using very accurate mathematical measuring such as 'blob' is based on the reason measurements are useless for a hummus, the amount of each ingredient you use is solely to taste- I needed more salt, harissa and garlic oil after the first blend and subsequently first taste test so don't expect everything perfect at once. A food processor is more efficient than a blender, although it doesn't make everything silky smooth- I can't stand hummus when it's as smooth as cement, but if you want it like that just blend it for longer, at the risk of the machine's motor.
2)Keep the hummus in the fridge whilst you chop some halloumi into sticks, and bake them in a really hot oven on an ungreased baking tray, sprinkled with coarse salt and pepper along with some pitta breads. Bake until the halloumi is blistered and golden, and the pitta bread is brittle.
3)This next dip is best made just before serving, as it contains my favourite savoury fruit- avocado. It's not guacamole, I didn't want to call it that as it contains the controversial addition of peas (specifically a tin of chip-shop-mushy-peas, don't sneer). Call it another hummus if you so desire. Cut into the avocado by cutting to the stone lengthways, running the knife all around the fruit, twisting the two halves open; oh how is it satisfying when the avocado is ripe. Dig the knife into the stone, twist, and pop it out. Scoop out the flesh with a teaspoon, add a tin of mushy peas, squeeze over a lime and a little salt (again, season generously after tasting). Add a handful of chopped fresh mint, including a little stem for earthiness, a dollop of yoghurt and to counter the tang a sprinkle of sugar. Mash everything together, but keeping a little nubbliness to it.
Dip to you and your family's heart's contents!
Monday 29 February 2016
Saturday 27 February 2016
Coconut Pancakes because Homework
I realised when having a scan through my blog, (yes, I have reached that status where I'm great enough to gain pleasure from reading one's own work) I realised I lack recipes for breakfast. There is a simple reason for this; I rarely indulge myself in the meal.
I know, I know, such a statement would make health-foodies wince (although, this breakfast probably wouldn't make them so proud either), but I'm such a lazy bugger I wake up about 10 minutes before I leave the house, so don't have the time. However, at weekends, especially ones filled with lonely homework, I do make myself a little light something. You know, like pancakes with butter and syrup.
This morning, my choice was this tropical pancake recipe, which was taught in part to me as by an absent youtuber called 'The Tofu Guru'. I'm unfortunately very inept at making pancakes, and many mornings of making the golden beauties just evoke memories of washing-up and smoked out kitchens and, like this morning, feeling disloyal to Britain and cooking the thick American version rather than what I usually prefer- the British crepe-like version. I suppose you could call them drop scones. Whatever, the humiliating reason for cooking this version is I cannot successfully cook a crepe one. Ever.
The blueberry syrup that accompanies can be left cold and used as a soft-set jam. Sugar is vital during homework-days, after all.
1)This is an odd order to do things, but it's easier to do batter this way, trust me. Whisk an egg with 125ml runny coconut milk, and a bit of cheat's coconut flavouring (just a small few drops) and then whisk in, gradually 150g plain flour, 1 tsp baking powder and 2 tbsp caster sugar until you have a smooth batter. Leave that to stand for however long you want to, whilst you prepare the toppings.
2)Mix some dessicated coconut with a little caster sugar, and toast it in a dry pan vigilantly until it's browned and crisp, but it can burn very easily.
3)Mix about 500g blueberries with 2 tbsp maple syrup until they burst and bubble up. Then counter the cloying sweetness with a sharp hit of half a lemon's juice.
4)Melt 2 tbsp butter in the pan you plan to cook the pancakes in, and stir it into the batter, leaving a bit in the pan as grease. Cook ladels of pancake batter in the pan until puffy and golden, then serve with the syrup and toasted coconut.
To make these normal pancakes, replace the coconut milk with ordinary full fat milk, omit the coconut flavouring and eat with crispy bacon and maple syrup, chocolate pressed onto the cakes as they cook- whatever you want.
I know, I know, such a statement would make health-foodies wince (although, this breakfast probably wouldn't make them so proud either), but I'm such a lazy bugger I wake up about 10 minutes before I leave the house, so don't have the time. However, at weekends, especially ones filled with lonely homework, I do make myself a little light something. You know, like pancakes with butter and syrup.
This morning, my choice was this tropical pancake recipe, which was taught in part to me as by an absent youtuber called 'The Tofu Guru'. I'm unfortunately very inept at making pancakes, and many mornings of making the golden beauties just evoke memories of washing-up and smoked out kitchens and, like this morning, feeling disloyal to Britain and cooking the thick American version rather than what I usually prefer- the British crepe-like version. I suppose you could call them drop scones. Whatever, the humiliating reason for cooking this version is I cannot successfully cook a crepe one. Ever.
The blueberry syrup that accompanies can be left cold and used as a soft-set jam. Sugar is vital during homework-days, after all.
1)This is an odd order to do things, but it's easier to do batter this way, trust me. Whisk an egg with 125ml runny coconut milk, and a bit of cheat's coconut flavouring (just a small few drops) and then whisk in, gradually 150g plain flour, 1 tsp baking powder and 2 tbsp caster sugar until you have a smooth batter. Leave that to stand for however long you want to, whilst you prepare the toppings.
2)Mix some dessicated coconut with a little caster sugar, and toast it in a dry pan vigilantly until it's browned and crisp, but it can burn very easily.
3)Mix about 500g blueberries with 2 tbsp maple syrup until they burst and bubble up. Then counter the cloying sweetness with a sharp hit of half a lemon's juice.
4)Melt 2 tbsp butter in the pan you plan to cook the pancakes in, and stir it into the batter, leaving a bit in the pan as grease. Cook ladels of pancake batter in the pan until puffy and golden, then serve with the syrup and toasted coconut.
To make these normal pancakes, replace the coconut milk with ordinary full fat milk, omit the coconut flavouring and eat with crispy bacon and maple syrup, chocolate pressed onto the cakes as they cook- whatever you want.
Monday 22 February 2016
Steamed Plaice to eat in your Temple
My bible in the kitchen, from the very time the obsessive hobby stumbled into my life, has been the gloriously old-fashioned Hamlyn All Colour Cookbook, edited and heavily contributed to by pre-bake-off Mary Berry. How could I not trust such a book? The original copy that I picked up from a cupboard when I was much younger, is now in my bookshelf, tattered and dirty from all its long, happy use. Now it's in retirement, being called upon only when I desire a hearty throwback read.
Since then, however, I have acquired two books in the Hamlyn series, the vegetarian and best-of, both of which are thoroughly in use. After returning home from school today feeling oddly in a pretentious 'my body is a temple' mood, the dreadful insistence to eat healthily and wallow in all the nutrients and exercise I've absorbed is a ghastly state I occasionally find myself in, I foraged about for a light meals. I knew my health craving had to be satisfied. It was partly influenced after cooking my Pomegranate, Prune and Lamb Tagine earlier in the evening for a later meal, which is rich, earthy and heavy (all in a good way) , but also after a quick flick through best-of, encountering this recipe, and I gloriously had a frozen plaice to be called to action for it (I didn't defrost it because you know rebel). It satisfied my tiredness, impatience, and temple food craving.
1)Slash two small or one large plaice diagonally, about halfway through the fish, and scrub a little salt into it. Place (see what I did there) them on a heatproof plate in a bamboo steamer, and top with three finely sliced spring onions, but only the white and pale green part, and a little chunk of peeled ginger, julienned finely. Steam for about 12-15 minutes.
2)Prepare a delicious sauce, which is a bit like Chinese-flavoured ketchup. Combine 1 tbsp each light soy sauce, schaoxing rice wine, tomato puree, brown sugar, and chilli sauce, and add 150ml chicken stock. Cook rapidly for 1 minute, then for a bit of body, 1 tsp cornflour slaked in a drop of water. Cook until a bit glossier and thicker, and serve with your plaice, and (bare with me) some lightly steamed green vegetables.
Sunday 21 February 2016
Dump Cake
This sounds bad, is bad for you, includes bad ingredients and looks pretty darn ugly when you take it out of the oven. What you have is essentially a crumble, but made instantly trashier with a box of cake mix, a substance I despise as there is really nothing easier about using cake mix over real ingredients. There is very, very little to praise in this kitch American dessert, apart from the taste. Irritatingly, I tried this out of mere snobbish curiosity, and it tastes utterly fabulous.
1)Dump in a large baking dish one tin of beautiful cherry pie filling, a tin of undrained pineapple chunks, a box of sponge cake mix and (this is where things really start going downhill) 110g unsalted butter (a whole stick in America) sliced and dotted over the crumbly cake mix. Bake at 180 degrees for a good hour, until the surface is set and caramelised. Dig in to the rich, fake purple colour of the interior, and prepare to be amazed.
1)Dump in a large baking dish one tin of beautiful cherry pie filling, a tin of undrained pineapple chunks, a box of sponge cake mix and (this is where things really start going downhill) 110g unsalted butter (a whole stick in America) sliced and dotted over the crumbly cake mix. Bake at 180 degrees for a good hour, until the surface is set and caramelised. Dig in to the rich, fake purple colour of the interior, and prepare to be amazed.
Ale-braised Slow Roast Pork
I love it when I inspire myself to cook a delicious German-inspired meal- it makes me finally feel as though I'm putting my extensive learning of German vocabulary for GCSE to good use. When I forage around the Internet for recipes, I find that German recipes are rarely ever concrete, so adapt how you please, just keep the savoury, brass and warming themes of German cuisine.
Do get a cheap, fattier cut of pork for this- the meat is so much more tender and the fat imparts so much flavour.
1)Prepare a rub for a pork shoulder (or another cheap, fatty cut) with its rind scored. Combine 4 crushed garlic cloves, and combine with it lots of European spirit- two crushed, dried bay leaves, a small teaspoon or so of juniper berries, ground, a teaspoon or so of salt, and two of caraway seeds and fennel seeds to bring out the porky flavour. Mix it all to a paste with a little oil and a few splashes of sherry vinegar and rub it all around the pork, including the meat beneath the rind. Place the meat on top of some chopped onions (no need to peel them), and roast at 200 for about 20 minutes.
2)Take the seared pork out, and add however many wedged potatoes you want. Obviously, they don't crisp as they braise in all the ale, but they do soak up an awful lot of flavour. Add one small bottle of beer, an amber ale would be best, and roast for about 2-3 hours at a much lower 150-170. In the last half an hour or so of cooking, add some big wedges of apple, big so they don't just disintegrate, and bake until they go soft too.
3)Lift the meat out and transfer to a chopping board, and encircle it with the apples and potatoes.
4)With the onions and reduced, now sweetened beer left in the tin, boil it down, add some vegetable stock, a bit of cornflour slaked in water until you're left with a thick gravy. Strain, then serve with your pork and a jar of sauerkraut and (if you're lucky unlike me) German mustard.
Do get a cheap, fattier cut of pork for this- the meat is so much more tender and the fat imparts so much flavour.
1)Prepare a rub for a pork shoulder (or another cheap, fatty cut) with its rind scored. Combine 4 crushed garlic cloves, and combine with it lots of European spirit- two crushed, dried bay leaves, a small teaspoon or so of juniper berries, ground, a teaspoon or so of salt, and two of caraway seeds and fennel seeds to bring out the porky flavour. Mix it all to a paste with a little oil and a few splashes of sherry vinegar and rub it all around the pork, including the meat beneath the rind. Place the meat on top of some chopped onions (no need to peel them), and roast at 200 for about 20 minutes.
2)Take the seared pork out, and add however many wedged potatoes you want. Obviously, they don't crisp as they braise in all the ale, but they do soak up an awful lot of flavour. Add one small bottle of beer, an amber ale would be best, and roast for about 2-3 hours at a much lower 150-170. In the last half an hour or so of cooking, add some big wedges of apple, big so they don't just disintegrate, and bake until they go soft too.
3)Lift the meat out and transfer to a chopping board, and encircle it with the apples and potatoes.
4)With the onions and reduced, now sweetened beer left in the tin, boil it down, add some vegetable stock, a bit of cornflour slaked in water until you're left with a thick gravy. Strain, then serve with your pork and a jar of sauerkraut and (if you're lucky unlike me) German mustard.
Mystery Box Challenge- Bo Kho
My good friend Kitty and I have devised a new challenge. Kitty's (I am very jealous of this) parents are both chefs, her Mum owning a bakery in Malaysia, and her Dad numerous Chinese takeaways. As a result, she takes trips to Asian supermarkets often, so I offered her a new game for us to play. She buys a cheap, random Asian ingredient, and I solve the mystery of what it is and what to do with it. For our debut, Kitty purchased a box of something called 'Bo Kho', recommended by her mum. They looked like some kind of beguiling stock cube.
I was more or less right- Bo Kho is a Vietnamese beef stew, with all the principles of a good 'ole traditional English stew, but with a diverse Asian kick. If you can get your hand on the stock cubes, or alternatively annatto seeds, I implore you to give this a go.
1)Toss about 1.5k of stewing beef, such as shin, in seasoned flour (but here seasoned with the Asian magic of 3 teaspoons of Chinese Five Spice) and sear the meat in very hot oil until it's well browned. Transfer to a plate and cover with foil.
2)With the sort-of beefy roux left from the flour and oil in the pan, fill with about 1 1/2 litres of water, add 2 cubes of bo Kho stock, or you could have seared the beef in oil seasoned with annatto seeds if you can find them, you just want that rich, red twang in the sauce. Add a good glug (125ml) of schaoxing rice wine, or if you can't find that use good dark sherry, only about 1 tbsp of soy sauce and oyster sauce, plus two bruised lemon grass stalks, a broken cinnamon stick, some ginger slices and 2 star anise. Add 2 tbsp tomato puree, some sliced carrots and some peeled shallots or boiling onions. Return the meat to the pot, and cook in a low (150 degrees) oven for about 3 hours, until everything is very tender. If you feel the stew needs more seasoning, you could add some dried chilli for pep and some more soy. Serve with boiled ricestick noodles.
I was more or less right- Bo Kho is a Vietnamese beef stew, with all the principles of a good 'ole traditional English stew, but with a diverse Asian kick. If you can get your hand on the stock cubes, or alternatively annatto seeds, I implore you to give this a go.
1)Toss about 1.5k of stewing beef, such as shin, in seasoned flour (but here seasoned with the Asian magic of 3 teaspoons of Chinese Five Spice) and sear the meat in very hot oil until it's well browned. Transfer to a plate and cover with foil.
2)With the sort-of beefy roux left from the flour and oil in the pan, fill with about 1 1/2 litres of water, add 2 cubes of bo Kho stock, or you could have seared the beef in oil seasoned with annatto seeds if you can find them, you just want that rich, red twang in the sauce. Add a good glug (125ml) of schaoxing rice wine, or if you can't find that use good dark sherry, only about 1 tbsp of soy sauce and oyster sauce, plus two bruised lemon grass stalks, a broken cinnamon stick, some ginger slices and 2 star anise. Add 2 tbsp tomato puree, some sliced carrots and some peeled shallots or boiling onions. Return the meat to the pot, and cook in a low (150 degrees) oven for about 3 hours, until everything is very tender. If you feel the stew needs more seasoning, you could add some dried chilli for pep and some more soy. Serve with boiled ricestick noodles.
Thursday 18 February 2016
Pussyfoot
I am still very emotionally ruptured to this day about how much I enjoy mixing drinks and cooking with alcohol, but still hate the taste of booze so much. I can't get over its bitterness.
This, in some way is the solution; whilst reading through a book about how to cure a hangover, I encountered many fabulous looking recipes, but all of them were hair of the dog. Not very helpful for me. Until I found this, a pussyfoot. As I've pointed out before, recipes with a vile-sounding name are always masking exquisite flavour- toad in the hole, anyone? Also, I feel I need a drink that can clear the fog because I spent the morning it was drank doing maths revision. It contains raw egg for protein, and citrus juices to kick start your taste buds with some tang. But you need not a mathematical emergency to make this, it's delicious anytime. 'Probably the best non-alcoholic cocktail ever.'
1)Beat an egg and add about half of it to the bottom of a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Add 4 shots of orange and 2 shots of grapefruit juice (I can't stand the taste of pink grapefruit on its own but it works here), 1/2 shot lime juice and 1/2 shot grenadine, and shake it all together. Fill into an iced glass, and drink away.
This, in some way is the solution; whilst reading through a book about how to cure a hangover, I encountered many fabulous looking recipes, but all of them were hair of the dog. Not very helpful for me. Until I found this, a pussyfoot. As I've pointed out before, recipes with a vile-sounding name are always masking exquisite flavour- toad in the hole, anyone? Also, I feel I need a drink that can clear the fog because I spent the morning it was drank doing maths revision. It contains raw egg for protein, and citrus juices to kick start your taste buds with some tang. But you need not a mathematical emergency to make this, it's delicious anytime. 'Probably the best non-alcoholic cocktail ever.'
1)Beat an egg and add about half of it to the bottom of a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Add 4 shots of orange and 2 shots of grapefruit juice (I can't stand the taste of pink grapefruit on its own but it works here), 1/2 shot lime juice and 1/2 shot grenadine, and shake it all together. Fill into an iced glass, and drink away.
Wednesday 17 February 2016
Fried Chicken and Sufferin' Succotash
I know, I know, this is obviously not health food, but there's a case to be made for both of these dishes. For a start, deep frying food makes it absorb a lot less fat than shallow frying. So this makes the perfect diet food. As well as this, deep frying is so much more gentle on your kitchen than shallow frying. There's nowhere near as much smoke, noise, moving around, or burned charred parts, or risk of the meat being undercooked. And, obviously, fried chicken is irresistibly delicious. The succotash is just vegetables, so you can feel a bit better about the chicken- not that that is its purpose, it makes a delicious accompaniment to anything.
My American influence on my cooking is very much making itself apparent with the side dish. Inspired by my endearing love for Looney Tunes, and 'Sufferin' Succotash' is Sylvester The Cat's iconic catchphrase. The dish is made up of mainly sweetcorn and broad beans (called Lima beans in America) because they were staple sources of protein during the Great Depression in America, as families obviously wouldn't have been able to afford meats. Whatever, along with the fried chicken, this makes a beautifully comforting meal.
1)I poach the chicken to cook it fully before frying the coating, as I don't trust myself keeping oil at a steady enough temperature to cook the chicken all the way through without incinerating the coating. I poach in what is essentially my buttermilk marinade, but with regular milk instead. Use about a pint of it, and add 1 tbsp dried thyme (or any dried herb you want), 1 tsp English mustard, 2 tsp paprika (or use some dried chillies for real fire), salt and pepper all moxed up then and add your chicken pieces- bone in, skin on thighs and drumsticks. Poach for about 20 minutes, using a knife to check that they are done all the way through.
2)Whilst they are poaching, chop an onion and two sweet red peppers not too finely. Also deseeed and chop a chilli (or use dried chilli) and finely chop or mince two garlic cloves. Saute them in a little oil until they are very soft, then add about 250g frozen broad beans run under hot water and the same of frozen sweetcorn. Saute them until tender and hot.
3)Prepare a double dipping session for the chicken. Pat them dry, coat in plain flour seasoned with salt and pepper and a little garlic powder, then dunk in beaten egg whisked with about 1/2 tsp tobasco sauce or ditch the dried garlic and add some fresh minced garlic here, and then dunk back in flour. Leave on a cooling rack to dry off, whilst you melt some vegetable fat, you know, the ones that come wrapped like butter. I used Crisp'nDry. Melt it, and use a grain of rice to test if it's hot enough. If it burns right away, you've left it too long, if it sinks without bubbling it's too cold. Or just use regular flavourless oil- sunflower and vegetable would do. Most often I go for vegetable fat and eek out the depth with regular oil but you may suit yourself. Fry the chicken in batches, until the crispy skin goes beautiful and golden. Most people dry them off in paper towels, but that makes the skin go soggy, so just set them over a wire rack with a tray underneath to catch drops of fat. I like to do the whole dredging etcetera with the aid of a wire rack and since the chicken is cooked before and after it would be placed on it it is entirely safe. If you prefer, a flavourless vegetable oil like sunflower would work just swimmingly.
4)Season the Succotash with chopped fresh sage and thyme and salt and pepper, and serve with your fried chicken.
My American influence on my cooking is very much making itself apparent with the side dish. Inspired by my endearing love for Looney Tunes, and 'Sufferin' Succotash' is Sylvester The Cat's iconic catchphrase. The dish is made up of mainly sweetcorn and broad beans (called Lima beans in America) because they were staple sources of protein during the Great Depression in America, as families obviously wouldn't have been able to afford meats. Whatever, along with the fried chicken, this makes a beautifully comforting meal.
1)I poach the chicken to cook it fully before frying the coating, as I don't trust myself keeping oil at a steady enough temperature to cook the chicken all the way through without incinerating the coating. I poach in what is essentially my buttermilk marinade, but with regular milk instead. Use about a pint of it, and add 1 tbsp dried thyme (or any dried herb you want), 1 tsp English mustard, 2 tsp paprika (or use some dried chillies for real fire), salt and pepper all moxed up then and add your chicken pieces- bone in, skin on thighs and drumsticks. Poach for about 20 minutes, using a knife to check that they are done all the way through.
2)Whilst they are poaching, chop an onion and two sweet red peppers not too finely. Also deseeed and chop a chilli (or use dried chilli) and finely chop or mince two garlic cloves. Saute them in a little oil until they are very soft, then add about 250g frozen broad beans run under hot water and the same of frozen sweetcorn. Saute them until tender and hot.
3)Prepare a double dipping session for the chicken. Pat them dry, coat in plain flour seasoned with salt and pepper and a little garlic powder, then dunk in beaten egg whisked with about 1/2 tsp tobasco sauce or ditch the dried garlic and add some fresh minced garlic here, and then dunk back in flour. Leave on a cooling rack to dry off, whilst you melt some vegetable fat, you know, the ones that come wrapped like butter. I used Crisp'nDry. Melt it, and use a grain of rice to test if it's hot enough. If it burns right away, you've left it too long, if it sinks without bubbling it's too cold. Or just use regular flavourless oil- sunflower and vegetable would do. Most often I go for vegetable fat and eek out the depth with regular oil but you may suit yourself. Fry the chicken in batches, until the crispy skin goes beautiful and golden. Most people dry them off in paper towels, but that makes the skin go soggy, so just set them over a wire rack with a tray underneath to catch drops of fat. I like to do the whole dredging etcetera with the aid of a wire rack and since the chicken is cooked before and after it would be placed on it it is entirely safe. If you prefer, a flavourless vegetable oil like sunflower would work just swimmingly.
4)Season the Succotash with chopped fresh sage and thyme and salt and pepper, and serve with your fried chicken.
Sunday 14 February 2016
Lemon-Ginger Syllabub
Syllabub is an English dessert of dangerous addiction. It's just cream curdled with wine or sherry (ginger wine here, because a family friend thought it was foul, and I of course jumped at the opportunity to use) and whipped until you get a soft pile of airy cream. It's very unhealthy, but that lightness is so celestial you could eat tonnes of cream, sugar and booze without realising how many calories you're consuming.
I add a few dollops of natural yoghurt into my syllabub, it's a bit unorthodox but I think it gives it a more rounded flavour and brings out the ginger and lemon. Feel free to flavour this however you like, lemon(or lime, I suppose), sugar and cream are necessary, but you could use any sherry or liqueur you liked.
1)Whisk 100ml ginger wine, the juice of two lemons and 75g caster sugar ntil the sugar is mostly dissolved, then whisk in 250 ml double cream until it's not fully whipped, but very very thick. Add about 150ml natural yoghurt and whip that in until it's softly whipped. It should be about the consistency of the yoghurt.
2)Spoon into little glass bowls and keep in the fridge until ready to serve. Garnish with some strips of stem ginger and a lemon wedge.
I add a few dollops of natural yoghurt into my syllabub, it's a bit unorthodox but I think it gives it a more rounded flavour and brings out the ginger and lemon. Feel free to flavour this however you like, lemon(or lime, I suppose), sugar and cream are necessary, but you could use any sherry or liqueur you liked.
1)Whisk 100ml ginger wine, the juice of two lemons and 75g caster sugar ntil the sugar is mostly dissolved, then whisk in 250 ml double cream until it's not fully whipped, but very very thick. Add about 150ml natural yoghurt and whip that in until it's softly whipped. It should be about the consistency of the yoghurt.
2)Spoon into little glass bowls and keep in the fridge until ready to serve. Garnish with some strips of stem ginger and a lemon wedge.
Proper American Meatloaf
A meatloaf, oddly, is something rarely eaten in England- a terrible shame, I think. An easy way of describing it is just a slice of meatball or burger, served with a rather bizarre traditional deep south American accompaniment of a ketchup glaze/sauce and sliced gherkins.
There are two things I feel are important in making a good meatloaf, other than that feel free to adapt this traditional recipe to your own tastes: buy minced steak rather than just minced beef, as it has a better (in my opinion) taste, and is far, far leaner, meaning the loaf doesn't drip grease. Once all the other ingredients are mixed, do not mix the mince for long- you want to spend as little time as possible handling it. If you mix it until it's really smooth, you'll get a nice neat slice, but it will be so dry and tough, it will be like eating a slipper.
A lovely simple side is some baked potatoes and sour cream, there's space in the oven, so why not?
1)Line a loaf tin with foil, and preheat the oven to 180 degrees Celsius.
2)Heat some beef dripping (or lard) over a gentle heat, and add 2 small finely chopped onion and two cloves of garlic until they sweat down until completely soft, and some colour develops.
3)Combine 100g of breadcrumbs, which I keep in the freezer when there's a stale crust of bread left with 100ml milk, until you get a sort of sludge. Mix in 1 tbsp chopped parsley (optional) 3 tbsp red wine, about 2 tsp Wocestershire sauce and about 100g grated parmesan. Mix it all together well with the onions, then briefly, very briefly mix in 700g minced steak until it's all just combined.
4)Bake for about an hour, until browned at the top and a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees, if you're concerned about it being done.
5)Mix about 125ml ketchup thinned with some water, plus salt and pepper, a pinch of brown sugar and Worcestershire sauce in a saucepan until it bubbles.
6)Turn the meatloaf out and peel off the foil, then carve a few slices, drizzle the sauce over and garnish with some slices of gherkin.
There are two things I feel are important in making a good meatloaf, other than that feel free to adapt this traditional recipe to your own tastes: buy minced steak rather than just minced beef, as it has a better (in my opinion) taste, and is far, far leaner, meaning the loaf doesn't drip grease. Once all the other ingredients are mixed, do not mix the mince for long- you want to spend as little time as possible handling it. If you mix it until it's really smooth, you'll get a nice neat slice, but it will be so dry and tough, it will be like eating a slipper.
A lovely simple side is some baked potatoes and sour cream, there's space in the oven, so why not?
1)Line a loaf tin with foil, and preheat the oven to 180 degrees Celsius.
2)Heat some beef dripping (or lard) over a gentle heat, and add 2 small finely chopped onion and two cloves of garlic until they sweat down until completely soft, and some colour develops.
3)Combine 100g of breadcrumbs, which I keep in the freezer when there's a stale crust of bread left with 100ml milk, until you get a sort of sludge. Mix in 1 tbsp chopped parsley (optional) 3 tbsp red wine, about 2 tsp Wocestershire sauce and about 100g grated parmesan. Mix it all together well with the onions, then briefly, very briefly mix in 700g minced steak until it's all just combined.
4)Bake for about an hour, until browned at the top and a meat thermometer reads 160 degrees, if you're concerned about it being done.
5)Mix about 125ml ketchup thinned with some water, plus salt and pepper, a pinch of brown sugar and Worcestershire sauce in a saucepan until it bubbles.
6)Turn the meatloaf out and peel off the foil, then carve a few slices, drizzle the sauce over and garnish with some slices of gherkin.
Eric Carmen's Valentine's Brunch
Here's a little number for all those lonely muppets exploiting their cooking ability to make a romantic brunch for their significant other- who doesn't know that they're your significant other yet. But they will. OH THEY WILL. For this meal, Eric Carmen's anthem for all us lonely lovers 'All By Myself' will be perfect to kick start the self-loathing session.
I made two fancy egg and bacon toast cups and served them with a Virgin Mary- very fitting for my love life. As I had no celery on hand I used some blanched asparagus spears as a stirring utensil, you can imagine how good they tasted after swirling through those salty, spicy tomato juice.
My serving of the drinks in beer tankards shows my dire lack of f***s to give. You go be happy. You'd overcook the eggs anyway.
1)Lightly grease a muffin tin, the easiest method being that oil spray you get for healthy eaters. Oh look, they have a date, too! Cut the crusts off 2 slices of bread, must be plastic pappy stuff, and press them down well with your hand. Press around the muffin cup, and make sure it comes over the top a little.
2)Fry some rashers of bacon, smoked for me, until nice and crisp, then press on top of the bread. Crack an egg into each cup, scrunch on some black pepper and sea salt, and bake at 180 until the whites just set, and the yolk is still runny, about 8 minutes. Grated cheddar cheese sprinkled over the bacon works well in this too.
3)Blanch some asparagus spears by boiling them for about 2 minutes, then quickly placing them in ice water so they keep their green. Stir together a pinch of salt and pepper, a light dash of tabasco, light soy sauce because I'm a rebel, Worcestershire sauce, fill it up with tomato juice, a squeeze of lemon and ice. All this is to taste.
4)Serve to your loved one... who will be arriving soon... won't you?
I made two fancy egg and bacon toast cups and served them with a Virgin Mary- very fitting for my love life. As I had no celery on hand I used some blanched asparagus spears as a stirring utensil, you can imagine how good they tasted after swirling through those salty, spicy tomato juice.
My serving of the drinks in beer tankards shows my dire lack of f***s to give. You go be happy. You'd overcook the eggs anyway.
1)Lightly grease a muffin tin, the easiest method being that oil spray you get for healthy eaters. Oh look, they have a date, too! Cut the crusts off 2 slices of bread, must be plastic pappy stuff, and press them down well with your hand. Press around the muffin cup, and make sure it comes over the top a little.
2)Fry some rashers of bacon, smoked for me, until nice and crisp, then press on top of the bread. Crack an egg into each cup, scrunch on some black pepper and sea salt, and bake at 180 until the whites just set, and the yolk is still runny, about 8 minutes. Grated cheddar cheese sprinkled over the bacon works well in this too.
3)Blanch some asparagus spears by boiling them for about 2 minutes, then quickly placing them in ice water so they keep their green. Stir together a pinch of salt and pepper, a light dash of tabasco, light soy sauce because I'm a rebel, Worcestershire sauce, fill it up with tomato juice, a squeeze of lemon and ice. All this is to taste.
4)Serve to your loved one... who will be arriving soon... won't you?
Thursday 11 February 2016
Homely-Spiced Carrot and Sweet Potato Soup with Confetti Cornbread
I'm very proud of tonight's culinary efforts- being all ingredient driven, giving me a smug make-do-and-mend feel. Due to a miscommunication when food shopping, we ended up with a glut of carrots, festering menacingly at the bottom of the fridge. We also had a bag of unused sweet potatoes which I was determined to use up before they met their mouldy end. Whilst I unfortunately would not have the ability to even comprehend peeling and chopping over a kilo of vegetables, a very rough chop with a large scary knife, something that gives me a worrying sense of safety in the kitchen, is perfectly do-able; even satisfying. The only way I could mask my embarrassing laziness and not peeling the carrots was to blend them with my nifty hand blender in a soup, and roasting the sweet potatoes in foil until the orange, fibrous flesh was practically begging to escape from its skin. To flavour this, I took the direction of homely, cakey spices and plenty of bay and thyme. They worked very well.
Sweet potatoes are something I have a certain ambivalence about: the very fibrous flesh is too sweet to be on its own, but that honey-sweetness and gorgeous sunset-orange colour goes a long way to liven up a potato mash, and in this soup it played its musky sweet role very well. The only thing I need to push is to not have the soup too thick, or it verges on eating a whole bowl of too-sweet mashed potato, and you need to add a bit of bite against that cloying sweetness, so don't be too light handed with the ginger, and spike the blended soup at the end with about 1 tbsp of apple cider vinegar.
The cornbread I served for dunking purposes with this is something I share an ambivalence about. I've tried it twice a long time ago before, once it was too dry and the next it was too cakey, unappetisingly pale and far too sweet. But this time it went very well. The bread itself is baked like a very easy cake batter, just mixing wet ingredients into dry, and the dry are cornmeal (known as polenta here) flour, sugar and raising agents, not yeast. Because of the texture of cornmeal, the finished bake is actually like an incredibly crumbly, but still light and airy bread you'd make with yeast. The flavour is also delicious, but if I kept it at just Paula Deen's original recipe (and yes, this is a Southern American staple, so cup measures here I'm afraid) it would be too sweet, so I add a confetti of freshly chopped red chilli and some cooked frozen sweetcorn. I was happy to put my fetching cup measure set, which I got for just £1.50 from Home Bargains, the ones that look like mini saucepans to good use, and it was very, very worth it.
1)Wrap 5 small sweet potatoes in foil, and bake at 200 degrees until very soft.
2)Roughly chop two large onions and about 1 kilo of carrots, and saute them for about 15 minutes. When they go very soft, add about 3cm of freshly grated ginger, that also doesn't need to be peeled, and 2 tsp ground allspice, ground cinnamon, about just 1 tsp of freshly grated nutmeg, a small pinch of cloves, 1 tbsp dried thyme and two bay leaves.
3)Add about 1 litre of vegetable stock, season with a little more salt, but do not overdo it. Bring to the boil, and simmer until the carrots are completely tender. Leave the sweet potatoes to cool, then peel them and throw in the soup. Blend very well with a hand blender, add more water if it's very thick, and 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar and some freshly ground pepper.
4)For the cornbread, combine 1 cup of cornmeal or polenta, 3/4 cup plain flour, 1 tbsp sugar, 1 1/2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda, and 1/2 tsp fine salt.
5)Combine the wet ingredients- the original recipe called for buttermilk, but I couldn't get that, but you can achieve the same effect with the same amount of milk curdled with some white vinegar. You need 1 1/2 cups, and whisk it with two eggs, 6 tbsp melted butter. Mix it well with the dry ingredients, plus two chopped chillis, the seeds left in one, and about 1/2 cup cooked sweetcorn. The batter will be a little lumpy. Pour into a greased 8 inch baking pan, and bake in a 180 degree oven for about 20 minutes, until crackled and golden. Turn out and serve warm with your soup.
Sweet potatoes are something I have a certain ambivalence about: the very fibrous flesh is too sweet to be on its own, but that honey-sweetness and gorgeous sunset-orange colour goes a long way to liven up a potato mash, and in this soup it played its musky sweet role very well. The only thing I need to push is to not have the soup too thick, or it verges on eating a whole bowl of too-sweet mashed potato, and you need to add a bit of bite against that cloying sweetness, so don't be too light handed with the ginger, and spike the blended soup at the end with about 1 tbsp of apple cider vinegar.
The cornbread I served for dunking purposes with this is something I share an ambivalence about. I've tried it twice a long time ago before, once it was too dry and the next it was too cakey, unappetisingly pale and far too sweet. But this time it went very well. The bread itself is baked like a very easy cake batter, just mixing wet ingredients into dry, and the dry are cornmeal (known as polenta here) flour, sugar and raising agents, not yeast. Because of the texture of cornmeal, the finished bake is actually like an incredibly crumbly, but still light and airy bread you'd make with yeast. The flavour is also delicious, but if I kept it at just Paula Deen's original recipe (and yes, this is a Southern American staple, so cup measures here I'm afraid) it would be too sweet, so I add a confetti of freshly chopped red chilli and some cooked frozen sweetcorn. I was happy to put my fetching cup measure set, which I got for just £1.50 from Home Bargains, the ones that look like mini saucepans to good use, and it was very, very worth it.
1)Wrap 5 small sweet potatoes in foil, and bake at 200 degrees until very soft.
2)Roughly chop two large onions and about 1 kilo of carrots, and saute them for about 15 minutes. When they go very soft, add about 3cm of freshly grated ginger, that also doesn't need to be peeled, and 2 tsp ground allspice, ground cinnamon, about just 1 tsp of freshly grated nutmeg, a small pinch of cloves, 1 tbsp dried thyme and two bay leaves.
3)Add about 1 litre of vegetable stock, season with a little more salt, but do not overdo it. Bring to the boil, and simmer until the carrots are completely tender. Leave the sweet potatoes to cool, then peel them and throw in the soup. Blend very well with a hand blender, add more water if it's very thick, and 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar and some freshly ground pepper.
4)For the cornbread, combine 1 cup of cornmeal or polenta, 3/4 cup plain flour, 1 tbsp sugar, 1 1/2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda, and 1/2 tsp fine salt.
5)Combine the wet ingredients- the original recipe called for buttermilk, but I couldn't get that, but you can achieve the same effect with the same amount of milk curdled with some white vinegar. You need 1 1/2 cups, and whisk it with two eggs, 6 tbsp melted butter. Mix it well with the dry ingredients, plus two chopped chillis, the seeds left in one, and about 1/2 cup cooked sweetcorn. The batter will be a little lumpy. Pour into a greased 8 inch baking pan, and bake in a 180 degree oven for about 20 minutes, until crackled and golden. Turn out and serve warm with your soup.
Tuesday 9 February 2016
Absolute Trash Dinner Goals- Hunter's Chicken Casserole
I have long since detested all the big, junky, salty and sweet trash food that has consumed the Internet recently. All the chain pubs are serving them and the Internet's home culinary world has lapped it up. You know the kind of thing I mean- fried macaroni cheese burger, triple-stuffed Mexican hot dog, chocolate-peanut butter pie with an oreo crust. There's no chance they won't taste good, which is what frustrates me. People are making food tasty by triple-sizing, and using tonnes of sugar and salt as flavour- where's the risk or creativity?
So I am utterly humiliated, embarrassed and ashamed that I love this dish so much. I don't mean chicken alla cacciatora from Italy, something much more classy, but the big, fatty, sugary delight of barbecue sauce, chicken, bacon and melted cheese stacked up and served originally in New York Diners. I always order it in a pub when it's on the menu. Mortifying but must be tried.
1)Chop an onion, and this is really what makes this a casserole for me, and I can't stress how much you're doing yourself a favour by buying big Spanish onions over a bag of little ones. Fry it in oil until soft and a little brown, with 4 crushed garlic cloves. Then add the good stuff. About a tbsp of tomato puree, a 500g carton of passata, 3 tbsp black treacle, or molasses if you have it, 2 tbsp roughly of dark soy sauce, 2 tsp paprika and 2 of cumin. Let it bubble, add some brown sugar and salt if needed, and leave to simmer gently while you crisp up some bacon.
2)Crisp some bacon rashers, one per chicken breast until as crisp as it will go (unfortunately English bacon isn't ever as crispy as American) and set aside.
3)I used to spend ages bashing chicken breasts to flatten, until the calm and mild Gordon Ramsay showed me butterflying it, which means to hold your palm on the smooth side of the chicken breast, cut through the middle, stopping before you reach the end, then opening out the cut. Roll them gently with a rolling pin, and fry in the bacon juices. When they're white on the edge but not near fully cooked, add about 80ml of vermouth- must have a white wine for chicken. This makes it go wonderfully tender. When they're pretty much done, transfer on top of the barbecue sauce in a casserole dish, top with bacon, and lots of grated cheddar cheese, I love red Leicester here. Bake at 180 degrees for about 15 minutes, until the barbecue sauce is bubbling and the chicken is fully cooked.
So I am utterly humiliated, embarrassed and ashamed that I love this dish so much. I don't mean chicken alla cacciatora from Italy, something much more classy, but the big, fatty, sugary delight of barbecue sauce, chicken, bacon and melted cheese stacked up and served originally in New York Diners. I always order it in a pub when it's on the menu. Mortifying but must be tried.
1)Chop an onion, and this is really what makes this a casserole for me, and I can't stress how much you're doing yourself a favour by buying big Spanish onions over a bag of little ones. Fry it in oil until soft and a little brown, with 4 crushed garlic cloves. Then add the good stuff. About a tbsp of tomato puree, a 500g carton of passata, 3 tbsp black treacle, or molasses if you have it, 2 tbsp roughly of dark soy sauce, 2 tsp paprika and 2 of cumin. Let it bubble, add some brown sugar and salt if needed, and leave to simmer gently while you crisp up some bacon.
2)Crisp some bacon rashers, one per chicken breast until as crisp as it will go (unfortunately English bacon isn't ever as crispy as American) and set aside.
3)I used to spend ages bashing chicken breasts to flatten, until the calm and mild Gordon Ramsay showed me butterflying it, which means to hold your palm on the smooth side of the chicken breast, cut through the middle, stopping before you reach the end, then opening out the cut. Roll them gently with a rolling pin, and fry in the bacon juices. When they're white on the edge but not near fully cooked, add about 80ml of vermouth- must have a white wine for chicken. This makes it go wonderfully tender. When they're pretty much done, transfer on top of the barbecue sauce in a casserole dish, top with bacon, and lots of grated cheddar cheese, I love red Leicester here. Bake at 180 degrees for about 15 minutes, until the barbecue sauce is bubbling and the chicken is fully cooked.
Ratatouille
Again, this dish, cooked by me, is something restaurants would probably grimace at. And having said that, an Italian would probably be pretty sneering at this too. Whatever, this is fabulous, and the only important thing you need to remember is to have all the vegetables cut to similar shapes. Either rounds, or chunks.
1)Thinly slice an aubergine, and sprinkle with coarse salt over a colander to remove any bitterness. In the meantime, slice an onion, two courgettes, a red and green bell pepper all in circles or half-moons for the onions, and saute slowly and softly in an oiled pan. Throw in a few minced garlic cloves too.
2)Drain and dry the aubergine, and saute that too. When all the vegetables are very soft, and this takes a little while, add a tin of chopped tomatoes. Swill out the can about a third full with water, and add that. Sweeten with a little sugar, and season with salt, pepper, and dried oregano. Also add a glug of balsamic vinegar to give the sauce some depth and savouriness. Simmer until needed.
1)Thinly slice an aubergine, and sprinkle with coarse salt over a colander to remove any bitterness. In the meantime, slice an onion, two courgettes, a red and green bell pepper all in circles or half-moons for the onions, and saute slowly and softly in an oiled pan. Throw in a few minced garlic cloves too.
2)Drain and dry the aubergine, and saute that too. When all the vegetables are very soft, and this takes a little while, add a tin of chopped tomatoes. Swill out the can about a third full with water, and add that. Sweeten with a little sugar, and season with salt, pepper, and dried oregano. Also add a glug of balsamic vinegar to give the sauce some depth and savouriness. Simmer until needed.
Toad in the Hole
I don't know when or why this happened, but at some point my family cooking became an equal clone to comfort food. School work is not easy, neither are hormonal teenagers, neither are grumpy teachers. But do you know what is easy? Making a warm, cosy, flavourful pot of something completely anti-restaurant quality, but completely something your face is ready for. If you'll pardon the innuendo.
Something with such a weird unappetising name always promises to be delicious. Take pig's bum, for example: a stodgy, sticky pot of cake, served with custard and an anus of rhubarb compote. Toad in the Hole is just as delectable, a Yorkshire Pudding cradling various sausages. It has to be served with onion gravy, but for the vegetables I was for some reason in the mood for ratatouille.
My batter method turns out to be an actual debated thing, I just whisk the eggs and milk before adding the flour for all batter like pancakes because it's much easier than whisking eggs into flour and then gradually whisking the milk. I don't think it's that that makes a difference, I think the important thing is that you make the batter as early on in the cooking process as possible, let it stand, and have the oven and fat in the tin very, very hot.
1)Whisk 3 eggs in a bowl, with around half of a jug of 225ml of milk (I just eyeball this) and 200g plain flour with a good pinch of salt and crushed pepper and mix this base well until you have a lump free and thick batter. Gradually whisk in the remaining half of milk, which is around 110ml. Or just whizz everything together in a processor. Let it rest, covered, whilst you prepare the onion gravy.
2)Finely slice an onion, I like it in strips for gravy, and brown it in some oil. Unlike normal, you do want them to colour here. Add about 600ml water, a glug of the trusty marsala and some chicken stock powder or pot. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat, and simmer whilst whisking in some cornflour made to a paste with a little water. When it's nice and thick and the alcohol has calmed down, leave it to stand.
3)I used to brown the sausages beforehand on the stove, but it occurred to me how easy it is to just do that in the oven. Warm some vegetable fat or coconut oil in the tin at a 220 degree oven, and throw in however many sausages you want, but don't have too many in one tin or they'll obstruct the growth of the Yorkshire pudding. When they're about half cooked, throw in the batter, quickly shut the door, and bake for a good 20 minutes, until puffy and golden. Serve with your onion gravy!
Sunday 7 February 2016
Chicken Pot Pie
A pie is excellent for a different Sunday Roast to up the comfort factor, and I can't tell you how many chicken pot pies I have cooked. That crisp puffy top encasing a world of deliciousness within. Using puff pastry, and I feel no shame in buying it, you get all sorts of luscious layers- from the bit that just touches the sauce, and goes all soggy and the golden, crisp top. It seems very difficult when you read through this recipe to think where on earth you could go wrong.
You don't need any extra starch with this, I just serve my cabbage, pine nut and parsley salad, with kale instead of cabbage today. All that is some steamed kale, toasted pine nuts, parsley leaves and some good oil drizzled over top.
1)Prepare 2 chopped leeks, make sure to score down the skin of the vegetable lengthways and clean out any soil. Slice it finely, and add it to a pan of hot vegetable oil. Add about 4 crushed cloves of garlic, some chopped mushrooms (I love chestnut ones) and cook them down. You will be amazed how much their volume decreases. Also add some pancetta cubes and let them cook (if you want them really crisp cook them first and allow their rendered fat to cook the vegetables).
2)Chop up some chicken, and yes, I'm using the much too fashionable breast for this, but I do so much prefer it to all the brown gristle of thighs. Don't have them too small, because a big hefty chunk of chicken is rather lovely. Add it to the pan and cook until it colours, then add about 1 tbsp dried thyme.
3)I know very much how unfashionable it is to add flour to thicken a sauce- you're all about egg yolks and cream or cornflour, but making a lazy roux to thicken the sauce until it more than coats the back of a spoon is really all I can tolerate. Add about 50g butter, melt it, then mix in about 2 tsp of mustard powder, white pepper and 2 tbsp plain flour. Mix in about 500ml hot chicken stock, and about a glass full of white vermouth or white wine (white is always preferred by me with chicken, which is why I prefer coq au riesling to coq au vin) and mix it in well. Add some frozen peas and some dried apricots snipped in and let it bubble for a bit until it tastes to your liking. Salt and more pepper may be necessary.
4)It's so important to let this whole filling cool completely before you contemplate putting buttery pastry on top, or the pastry will melt in the oven and you'll have a vile mess on your hands. When it is cool, pour into a pie pan, and cut a thin strip of pastry to line the rim of the dish, and press it down, then place the rest of the pre-rolled sheet on top. Press it down all around the rim, then cut away at the excess, but don't throw it away. You'll see. You can also press a fork round the rim, but that's pure for aesthetic value. Using a knife, prick about three holes through the lid.
5)This is optional, but I think it looks so beautiful if you use the excess to cut out some leaves or stars or something to adorn the lid. It doesn't have to be perfect, but I'm mainly saying that because I'm so proud of my effort I don't want your better attempt blurring mine. Beat an egg, and use it to wash all over the lid, and to make your pastry cuttings stick and bake at 180 for about 25 minutes, until the lid is golden and puffy and piping hot.
You don't need any extra starch with this, I just serve my cabbage, pine nut and parsley salad, with kale instead of cabbage today. All that is some steamed kale, toasted pine nuts, parsley leaves and some good oil drizzled over top.
1)Prepare 2 chopped leeks, make sure to score down the skin of the vegetable lengthways and clean out any soil. Slice it finely, and add it to a pan of hot vegetable oil. Add about 4 crushed cloves of garlic, some chopped mushrooms (I love chestnut ones) and cook them down. You will be amazed how much their volume decreases. Also add some pancetta cubes and let them cook (if you want them really crisp cook them first and allow their rendered fat to cook the vegetables).
2)Chop up some chicken, and yes, I'm using the much too fashionable breast for this, but I do so much prefer it to all the brown gristle of thighs. Don't have them too small, because a big hefty chunk of chicken is rather lovely. Add it to the pan and cook until it colours, then add about 1 tbsp dried thyme.
3)I know very much how unfashionable it is to add flour to thicken a sauce- you're all about egg yolks and cream or cornflour, but making a lazy roux to thicken the sauce until it more than coats the back of a spoon is really all I can tolerate. Add about 50g butter, melt it, then mix in about 2 tsp of mustard powder, white pepper and 2 tbsp plain flour. Mix in about 500ml hot chicken stock, and about a glass full of white vermouth or white wine (white is always preferred by me with chicken, which is why I prefer coq au riesling to coq au vin) and mix it in well. Add some frozen peas and some dried apricots snipped in and let it bubble for a bit until it tastes to your liking. Salt and more pepper may be necessary.
4)It's so important to let this whole filling cool completely before you contemplate putting buttery pastry on top, or the pastry will melt in the oven and you'll have a vile mess on your hands. When it is cool, pour into a pie pan, and cut a thin strip of pastry to line the rim of the dish, and press it down, then place the rest of the pre-rolled sheet on top. Press it down all around the rim, then cut away at the excess, but don't throw it away. You'll see. You can also press a fork round the rim, but that's pure for aesthetic value. Using a knife, prick about three holes through the lid.
5)This is optional, but I think it looks so beautiful if you use the excess to cut out some leaves or stars or something to adorn the lid. It doesn't have to be perfect, but I'm mainly saying that because I'm so proud of my effort I don't want your better attempt blurring mine. Beat an egg, and use it to wash all over the lid, and to make your pastry cuttings stick and bake at 180 for about 25 minutes, until the lid is golden and puffy and piping hot.
Go-to Guacamole
It seems ridiculous that I make and eat guacamole so often, but have never taken the time to tell you how I do it. Because after all, you can't Google how to make guacamole, you need the rich culinary skill of me to tell you how.
Yes, fair enough, I don't really change up a traditional guacamole enough to warrant such a detailed recipe, but I eat and make guacamole for parties, snacks and often dinner as a whole. It's (far too importantly) woven into the fabric of my life, so why shouldn't I share how I do it?: On the whole, I usually don't include a tomato as I don't often have them in the house, but if you want to you have to go through the stressful ordeal of peeling, deseeding and finely chopping it. Score a cross on two tomatoes' butts and blanch them (boiling water straight to cold water). Peel them, chop in half, scoop out the seeds and finely chop the remaining flesh. Incorporate it into the guacamole by throwing it over everything mashed at the end and don't mix it in as it looks quite unappetising when it's caked in the green mush. Use spring onions over white or red as the flavour is milder and you don't get onion breath (although I'm not promising anything). If you're lucky enough to get your hands on a molcajete (Mexican pestle and mortar) make and serve it in that; I'm unfortunately yet to have one. Note: I am lucky enough to now have one, speaking from 2017 moi, thank you Mum for the fabulous Christmas present! Other than that, use a wide bowl as a wide one is more likely to contain the dip with everything evenly dispersed. Anyway, this is not a strict Mexican dish, it's very open to your own interpretation...
1)Chop up 1 deseeded green jalapeño. I find the easiest way to do this is to slice off the head, slice it in half vertically, and scoop out the pith and seeds with a teaspoon. Wash your hands thoroughly and don't go near the eyes or downstairs region. Chop up the stalks of coriander, which are so often ignored, keeping the leaves for afterwards, and finely chop three spring onions. Also finely mince two garlic cloves. Have all the pieces very fine so you get a bit in each mouthful.
2)Halve two limes, squeeze the juice out, a fork is easiest to do this in my opinion, but please suit yourself.
3)I heard Chris Evans say his wife had come up with a new way to chop up an avocado, he believed it was a revolution. I feel like letting him know that it's the way everyone does avocados, including me. Chop around the avocado in half, twist the two halves apart, stab the stone, twist it to remove. In your hand, cut a cross-hatch to the skin of the avocado, and use a spoon to scoop out the flesh. Immediately throw over the lime juice to stop it browning, and mash it through with everything else (including the coriander leaves from before) but not too smooth, you want some texture. Add the sea salt here, as I like it to keep some crunch. I also like a bit of sour cream or natural yoghurt here too, it makes it creamier and more amalgamated. Taste to see if it needs more salt or lime or heat, and serve with tortilla chips and the chopped leaves of coriander over the top.
Yes, fair enough, I don't really change up a traditional guacamole enough to warrant such a detailed recipe, but I eat and make guacamole for parties, snacks and often dinner as a whole. It's (far too importantly) woven into the fabric of my life, so why shouldn't I share how I do it?: On the whole, I usually don't include a tomato as I don't often have them in the house, but if you want to you have to go through the stressful ordeal of peeling, deseeding and finely chopping it. Score a cross on two tomatoes' butts and blanch them (boiling water straight to cold water). Peel them, chop in half, scoop out the seeds and finely chop the remaining flesh. Incorporate it into the guacamole by throwing it over everything mashed at the end and don't mix it in as it looks quite unappetising when it's caked in the green mush. Use spring onions over white or red as the flavour is milder and you don't get onion breath (although I'm not promising anything). If you're lucky enough to get your hands on a molcajete (Mexican pestle and mortar) make and serve it in that; I'm unfortunately yet to have one. Note: I am lucky enough to now have one, speaking from 2017 moi, thank you Mum for the fabulous Christmas present! Other than that, use a wide bowl as a wide one is more likely to contain the dip with everything evenly dispersed. Anyway, this is not a strict Mexican dish, it's very open to your own interpretation...
1)Chop up 1 deseeded green jalapeño. I find the easiest way to do this is to slice off the head, slice it in half vertically, and scoop out the pith and seeds with a teaspoon. Wash your hands thoroughly and don't go near the eyes or downstairs region. Chop up the stalks of coriander, which are so often ignored, keeping the leaves for afterwards, and finely chop three spring onions. Also finely mince two garlic cloves. Have all the pieces very fine so you get a bit in each mouthful.
2)Halve two limes, squeeze the juice out, a fork is easiest to do this in my opinion, but please suit yourself.
3)I heard Chris Evans say his wife had come up with a new way to chop up an avocado, he believed it was a revolution. I feel like letting him know that it's the way everyone does avocados, including me. Chop around the avocado in half, twist the two halves apart, stab the stone, twist it to remove. In your hand, cut a cross-hatch to the skin of the avocado, and use a spoon to scoop out the flesh. Immediately throw over the lime juice to stop it browning, and mash it through with everything else (including the coriander leaves from before) but not too smooth, you want some texture. Add the sea salt here, as I like it to keep some crunch. I also like a bit of sour cream or natural yoghurt here too, it makes it creamier and more amalgamated. Taste to see if it needs more salt or lime or heat, and serve with tortilla chips and the chopped leaves of coriander over the top.
Brandy and Lemon-Garlic Prawns
When I can't be bothered to cook any cuts of meat, I quite often run to the freezer, rebelliously ignoring the request to thaw them first, and cook some frozen, raw king prawns. They're delicious in a quick Chinese stir fry, or a pasta sauce, but my latest creation is in a tangy sweet sauce, spiked with a little brandy.
I served this with guacamole and plenty of tortilla chips to absorb all that piquant sauce. If you wanted to up the fire a little, which would be nice depending on the mood, add a shake of dried chilli flakes. Lovely starter or part of a dinner platter.
Somehow it occurs to me now, over a year after initially writing this, that this dish could be made magical by a flambé. I mean there's brandy, why not? Simply hive off 1 tbsp of liquor, heat it in a tiny saucepan with a large surface area (this is so you can recoil your hand from the ignited alcohol quickly), light it with a match and pour the blue-flamed brandy over the prawns. Do this as near to the table as possible, as the combustion doesn't last very long.
Somehow it occurs to me now, over a year after initially writing this, that this dish could be made magical by a flambé. I mean there's brandy, why not? Simply hive off 1 tbsp of liquor, heat it in a tiny saucepan with a large surface area (this is so you can recoil your hand from the ignited alcohol quickly), light it with a match and pour the blue-flamed brandy over the prawns. Do this as near to the table as possible, as the combustion doesn't last very long.
1)Quickly cook 4 cloves crushed garlic in an oiled pan, being watchful as it can burn easily, then add about 80ml brandy, and let it bubble and reduce. It doesn't take long for that biting alcohol to turn to deep, sweet sauce. Add the juice and zest of 1 lemon, and throw in a pack of frozen raw king prawns. Cook just until they go pink and curled. Simple as that.
Friday 5 February 2016
Fallen Chocolate Cake
Ew, isn't flour becoming so last year? If that's your attitude, you might want to try this. Flourless chocolate cakes are much more convincing as puddings, due to their moistness and richness; a chocolate sponge is delicious, but much more suited to an afternoon tea or just in the tin for the week cake. Yes. I am the kind of saddo that has an 'in the tin for the week cake'. This cake isn't flourless because it relies on ground almonds or some other gluten free dry matter, it's lift and texture is purely based on separated eggs, the yolks mixed with best dark chocolate and a meringue folded in from the whites. I got this recipe passed down from Nigella Lawson who got it from Richard Sax, with different tweaks being made at each generation gap, and please, I encourage you to make your own tweaks, too. This has gone through may bane changes, like Cheryl Cole post marriages, but I've settled on this elegantly austere name- it connotes somehow a poet falling into beautiful decline and obviously to describe its crater begging for piles of whipped cream and berries.
I considered breaking off my relationship with cakes altogether before making this. After a few successes, we turned bitter again like the flavour of my abysmal clementine cake, a recipe I actually posted, but hastily took it down as I couldn't convince myself I liked it. But then after making this, this shallow disc of chocolate heaven, I think we might be able to try again.
There is a fabulous mocha variant to this cake that I conjured up: simply add 2 tbsp Camp coffee (the best way to incorporate coffee flavouring into baking) with the melted chocolate and tint some whipped cream a buff colour to dollop on the cake, then dust with a cappuccino-evoking sprinkle of cocoa powder.
1)Preheat the oven to 180 degrees, but as usual, be prepared to adjust this if the cake cooks too quickly. It is astonishing how much ovens vary. Grease a springform tin, but just grease up the sides, since there's no point greasing the bottom layer as I never bother to dig the cake off it.
2)Melt a large bar and a bit, about 150g of good (70% or more) dark chocolate over a bowl of simmering water or the microwave and when that's melted add 125g unsalted butter and melt that in the hot chocolate.
3)Separate 4 eggs, and to get a really stiff meringue it is best to separate it by tossing, very carefully because if the yolk breaks you have to start all over, between its shell. Add the yolks to one bowl and the whites to a spotless metal bowl. Add 100g caster sugar to the yolks, plus two whole eggs, the cooled butter and chocolate and a shot liqueur, dark rum, cointreau if you want your cake to taste like Terry's, but I used creme de cacao as it was still left over from my Christmas grasshopper pie. Mix it all thoroughly, but don't worry about getting any air into it.
4)There are many methods I've read about to make egg whites whisk up voluminously, but the best in my opinion is to add 1/2 tsp cream of tartar. Whisk them until they reach medium peak, which means when you lift out the whisk, an undefined peak should remain but it will slump. Then, while whisking, add 75g caster sugar gradually around the sides of the bowl, until it reaches stiff peak. This means when you lift the whisk out, a tall, proud and completely stationary peak should remain. It will also be incredibly glossy, not speckled and foamy like it was at medium peak.
5)Add a spoonful of the whites to the chocolate mixture, and mix it in bravely, not worrying about keeping air in, you're just loosening the mix so the whites can fold in easily. Now fold the rest of the whites in. People seem to think that folding entails being so gentle with the mix, no pressure is applied. That is not true, you must be firm and forceful with your movements around the bowl, just never stir the mix or smoosh it while you fold, and stop as soon as the whites are mixed in, no more. Scrape around the bowl with a large spoon or rubber spatula, fold the mixture over, cut through it, fold over the cut in the mixture, then repeat.
6)Fill the tin with the mixture, and bake for about 35 minutes, until a skewer inserted comes out clean, and the cake is cracked and springy to the touch. Leave to cool, and unfortunately it will sink as it does so, and decorate it with raspberries, frozen for me because I can't be bothered to let them thaw, or softly whipped cream.
I considered breaking off my relationship with cakes altogether before making this. After a few successes, we turned bitter again like the flavour of my abysmal clementine cake, a recipe I actually posted, but hastily took it down as I couldn't convince myself I liked it. But then after making this, this shallow disc of chocolate heaven, I think we might be able to try again.
There is a fabulous mocha variant to this cake that I conjured up: simply add 2 tbsp Camp coffee (the best way to incorporate coffee flavouring into baking) with the melted chocolate and tint some whipped cream a buff colour to dollop on the cake, then dust with a cappuccino-evoking sprinkle of cocoa powder.
1)Preheat the oven to 180 degrees, but as usual, be prepared to adjust this if the cake cooks too quickly. It is astonishing how much ovens vary. Grease a springform tin, but just grease up the sides, since there's no point greasing the bottom layer as I never bother to dig the cake off it.
2)Melt a large bar and a bit, about 150g of good (70% or more) dark chocolate over a bowl of simmering water or the microwave and when that's melted add 125g unsalted butter and melt that in the hot chocolate.
3)Separate 4 eggs, and to get a really stiff meringue it is best to separate it by tossing, very carefully because if the yolk breaks you have to start all over, between its shell. Add the yolks to one bowl and the whites to a spotless metal bowl. Add 100g caster sugar to the yolks, plus two whole eggs, the cooled butter and chocolate and a shot liqueur, dark rum, cointreau if you want your cake to taste like Terry's, but I used creme de cacao as it was still left over from my Christmas grasshopper pie. Mix it all thoroughly, but don't worry about getting any air into it.
4)There are many methods I've read about to make egg whites whisk up voluminously, but the best in my opinion is to add 1/2 tsp cream of tartar. Whisk them until they reach medium peak, which means when you lift out the whisk, an undefined peak should remain but it will slump. Then, while whisking, add 75g caster sugar gradually around the sides of the bowl, until it reaches stiff peak. This means when you lift the whisk out, a tall, proud and completely stationary peak should remain. It will also be incredibly glossy, not speckled and foamy like it was at medium peak.
5)Add a spoonful of the whites to the chocolate mixture, and mix it in bravely, not worrying about keeping air in, you're just loosening the mix so the whites can fold in easily. Now fold the rest of the whites in. People seem to think that folding entails being so gentle with the mix, no pressure is applied. That is not true, you must be firm and forceful with your movements around the bowl, just never stir the mix or smoosh it while you fold, and stop as soon as the whites are mixed in, no more. Scrape around the bowl with a large spoon or rubber spatula, fold the mixture over, cut through it, fold over the cut in the mixture, then repeat.
6)Fill the tin with the mixture, and bake for about 35 minutes, until a skewer inserted comes out clean, and the cake is cracked and springy to the touch. Leave to cool, and unfortunately it will sink as it does so, and decorate it with raspberries, frozen for me because I can't be bothered to let them thaw, or softly whipped cream.
Tuesday 2 February 2016
Chicken Liverpool Pasta
I started off by writing 'Chicken Liver Pasta' which my autocorrect saw as a great mistake, and corrected it to Liverpool pasta. I didn't change it, I thought it sounded charming. But to iron out any confusion, this is an Italian dish, from Alba in Piedmont, with chicken livers as the protein.
I don't understand how people can go a week without pasta- this meal took little excess of 10 minutes. However, I won't say that it will always take this long, because that's rather writing my own grave like Jamie Oliver and his 15 minute meals; he's a professional chef, we're not. Anyway, after my unintended after-school nap, I wasn't in the mood to cook for much longer.
I don't think this is a very universal dish, as in my experience, few people like liver. I don't always, but everything here has a lovely, dark, scent of the woods flavour, which liver really works with. My supermarket stocked chicken livers for Christmas, but now seem to still sell them. If you can't find them, lamb livers may work. This was tasty and nourishing, not perfect, I feel it would need a bit of punch somewhere, maybe some crispy bacon or chilli, but good nonetheless. An easy go-to supper with a bit of difference.
1)Boil some pasta in well salted water for about 10 minutes, until tender, but with a bit of bite left. I like penne here, but ribbons are traditional.
2)Fry some chopped onion and garlic. I used spring ones here, as I don't want onion to be the main component here. 3 cloves are nice.
3)Add a pack of chicken livers- if you have time it helps to soak these in milk for a couple of hours to draw out any potential bitterness and of course this can be left overnight. Soak some dried porcini or cep mushrooms until soft, keeping the juice for later. Add about 1 tbsp of tomato puree to the sauce.
4)When the livers are fully cooked, but still soft in the middle, add your ceps and a glug of marsala,sherry or white wine, and simmer that for a few minutes.
5)Reserve some pasta water and drain the pasta, and add your porcini liquid to the sauce.
6)Toss the pasta and sauce, and a bit of the pasta liquid, and some butter altogether and leave it to stand for a few minutes. Before you serve, give a light drizzle of truffle oil, or thinly sliced ones if you're disgustingly overpaid.
I don't understand how people can go a week without pasta- this meal took little excess of 10 minutes. However, I won't say that it will always take this long, because that's rather writing my own grave like Jamie Oliver and his 15 minute meals; he's a professional chef, we're not. Anyway, after my unintended after-school nap, I wasn't in the mood to cook for much longer.
I don't think this is a very universal dish, as in my experience, few people like liver. I don't always, but everything here has a lovely, dark, scent of the woods flavour, which liver really works with. My supermarket stocked chicken livers for Christmas, but now seem to still sell them. If you can't find them, lamb livers may work. This was tasty and nourishing, not perfect, I feel it would need a bit of punch somewhere, maybe some crispy bacon or chilli, but good nonetheless. An easy go-to supper with a bit of difference.
1)Boil some pasta in well salted water for about 10 minutes, until tender, but with a bit of bite left. I like penne here, but ribbons are traditional.
2)Fry some chopped onion and garlic. I used spring ones here, as I don't want onion to be the main component here. 3 cloves are nice.
3)Add a pack of chicken livers- if you have time it helps to soak these in milk for a couple of hours to draw out any potential bitterness and of course this can be left overnight. Soak some dried porcini or cep mushrooms until soft, keeping the juice for later. Add about 1 tbsp of tomato puree to the sauce.
4)When the livers are fully cooked, but still soft in the middle, add your ceps and a glug of marsala,sherry or white wine, and simmer that for a few minutes.
5)Reserve some pasta water and drain the pasta, and add your porcini liquid to the sauce.
6)Toss the pasta and sauce, and a bit of the pasta liquid, and some butter altogether and leave it to stand for a few minutes. Before you serve, give a light drizzle of truffle oil, or thinly sliced ones if you're disgustingly overpaid.
Monday 1 February 2016
Tarragon Chicken
Tarragon chicken has a reputation for being a bit of a 'Delia Dish'- you know, those complicated, boiled for hours, overtly traditional French classics. Delicious, but you feel so battered with the various steps and formality of it, you feel completely averse to serve it for a relaxed dinner.
As a result, in just such a third-world emergency, I come to save the day. This is a frank, fast, and fresh version, that is one of my regulars.
Tarragon is a highly underused herb, and as much as I would love to be the contrarian and call it highly underrated, it is quite exclusive. It has a specific, strong, dill/tea flavour that doesn't go with many things. Fortunately, the French utilise it perfectly here, with that heady herbal flavour working perfectly in the rich vermouth sauce. Simon Hopkinson names it 'chicken's favourite herb', as a matter of fact.
There's a time and a place for chicken thighs, but it's definitely not here; best-quality white meat, please.
1)This is how to make some sides which go really nicely here, but feel free to have whatever veg and starch you want here. Something fresh and green works best. Steam a bag of iron rich leaves, spinach, baby chard, rocket all great, and steam them over some boiling new potatoes, for just a minute or so, until they wilt a bit, then squeeze them dry and spread on a plate to cool. It may be odd to do them a good 20 minutes before you serve, but a lesser-known secret is that spinach at room temperature, is fabulous.
2)Finely chop one white onion, and crush 3 cloves of garlic, and saute them in some butter, and let them really sweat, then add about 1 tbsp of dried tarragon and cook them until really soft, then add your chicken breasts to the pan, and cook them on both sides for about 2 minutes.
3)Add about 1 glass of vermouth (or dry white wine, I always keep vermouth in the house to do white wine's job) and the same amount of water, and poach the chicken until it's done.
4)Remove the chicken from the sauce, and wrap it tightly in foil to keep it juicy and hot, whilst you add a little chicken stock concentrate to that sauce, plus some more butter, freshly chopped tarragon and let it reduce well. Sometimes I add a little cream or cornflour and make a creamy sauce, but not today. Add a spritz of lemon juice, too. Keep tasting the sauce to see when the alcohol cooks off, and if it needs any salt, and white pepper.
5)Smash your new potatoes, I don't mean mashing, just break them and add a little butter and some chopped tarragon, and dress the leaves with some extra virgin olive oil.
6)Return the chicken to the sauce, and sprinkle over some more fresh tarragon.
As a result, in just such a third-world emergency, I come to save the day. This is a frank, fast, and fresh version, that is one of my regulars.
Tarragon is a highly underused herb, and as much as I would love to be the contrarian and call it highly underrated, it is quite exclusive. It has a specific, strong, dill/tea flavour that doesn't go with many things. Fortunately, the French utilise it perfectly here, with that heady herbal flavour working perfectly in the rich vermouth sauce. Simon Hopkinson names it 'chicken's favourite herb', as a matter of fact.
There's a time and a place for chicken thighs, but it's definitely not here; best-quality white meat, please.
1)This is how to make some sides which go really nicely here, but feel free to have whatever veg and starch you want here. Something fresh and green works best. Steam a bag of iron rich leaves, spinach, baby chard, rocket all great, and steam them over some boiling new potatoes, for just a minute or so, until they wilt a bit, then squeeze them dry and spread on a plate to cool. It may be odd to do them a good 20 minutes before you serve, but a lesser-known secret is that spinach at room temperature, is fabulous.
2)Finely chop one white onion, and crush 3 cloves of garlic, and saute them in some butter, and let them really sweat, then add about 1 tbsp of dried tarragon and cook them until really soft, then add your chicken breasts to the pan, and cook them on both sides for about 2 minutes.
3)Add about 1 glass of vermouth (or dry white wine, I always keep vermouth in the house to do white wine's job) and the same amount of water, and poach the chicken until it's done.
4)Remove the chicken from the sauce, and wrap it tightly in foil to keep it juicy and hot, whilst you add a little chicken stock concentrate to that sauce, plus some more butter, freshly chopped tarragon and let it reduce well. Sometimes I add a little cream or cornflour and make a creamy sauce, but not today. Add a spritz of lemon juice, too. Keep tasting the sauce to see when the alcohol cooks off, and if it needs any salt, and white pepper.
5)Smash your new potatoes, I don't mean mashing, just break them and add a little butter and some chopped tarragon, and dress the leaves with some extra virgin olive oil.
6)Return the chicken to the sauce, and sprinkle over some more fresh tarragon.
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