I think it is my second favourite vegetable. Seriously. Second only to peas (both frozen and fresh). Garlic, onions and tomatoes don't quite count. Certain vegetables are only excellent during their peak season and don't have an all year presence, like asparagus, so I'm not counting those either. So yes. Cauliflower is my second favourite vegetable.
How fabulously versatile is it? How many wonderful things can you do with a brassica that is, to be honest, a little dull. It's not something I sneak into the kitchen to nibble on (peas in pods don't last a day in our kitchen and cherry tomatoes are so very poppable) because on its own it is a bit bland. But the flavours it works with! And the processes and things you can do that turn it into magic. Here's to the mighty cauliflower!
The reason I am excited about cauliflowers is because I finally got around to making this sephardic dish of battered and fried caulflower in a lemony tomato sauce. I've had the recipe in my 'Make Me' pile for ages but it seemed like it might be a bit finnicky. It wasn't. You should make it.
You quickly blanch your cauliflower florets then drain them and mix them into a simple batter (half a cup of flour with some salt and pepper, tossed, then two eggs beaten with a bit of water, toss the floured cauliflower with that, then another half cup of flour - get in with yout hands!) then fry them up to golden and lovely. (I also dropped little blobs of batter into the oil.) You slip the crispy golden florets into a very simple tomato sauce with lemon zest and a squeeze of juice and let it barely simmer for ten minutes then eat it covered with parsley.
(Here's a link to the recipe proper on Michael's Herbivoracious blog.)
How good is that?
C declared it was his second favourite way to eat cauliflower. His favourite? Roasted and dipped in spicy ketchup. Yup, we're fancy.
Showing posts with label Dinner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dinner. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Asparagus
Who said that? Some of the most beautiful things are fleeting and need to be pounced on while they are in front you for they disappear so quickly.
Asparagus is one of those joys. British asparagus appears to be a Thing. It is special and celebrated. It has a specific season of about 6-8 weeks and during this time everyone seems to be talking and eating it. I love it. I love the limited time only cache of it and the urgency. If you don't get some now you won't get any at all.
Yes I know you can get asparagus year round. But that's not the point, is it? This is English asparagus, grown as it is meant to be grown in the season in which nature intended. Did you know that most out of season asparagus comes from Peru where they are draining the water level to grow it (asparagus needs lots of water) - read this article about it. That's serious stuff. And it can't possibly taste as fresh and grassy and special as the stuff that's grown in your metaphoric backyard. And who wants to eat bland wooden stalks that make you pee funny the rest of the year? Seasonality people. Look it up.
We've been doing all sorts of things with asparagus. Because I buy an awful lot of it while I can. Roasted asparagus (olive oil, lemon, salt and pepper in the hot oven for 11 minutes) is a picnic staple for us - sometimes wrapped in ham, sometimes plain, once with romesco sauce. I eat it blanched and dripping in fancy salted butter for lunch. Grilled with grilled courgette and roasted tomatoes and basil oil a la Ottolenghi. Baked into a puff pastry tart. Munched on raw and crunchy like a carrot.
Tonight we're having it with polenta and cheese a la Guardian Ottolenghi. I figure there's a month left of experimenting and tasting. At the end of it I won't want to look at an asparagus spear. Which is fine and good because I won't be getting any until the official launch of the season in April 2012.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Ham Hock & Beans
A few weeks ago I met G at Milk Bar on a sunny Sunday morning for breakfast. We both had their home baked beans with sourdough toast and goat cheese. It was awesome. So enjoyable in fact that it has been simmering at the back of my brain since then and I decided I would try to make my own version.
Which brings me to my newest favourite thing: smoked ham hocks. I was at the Ginger Pig picking up bits and pieces for a week of dinners and saw these massive smoked hunks of meat. I was pretty sure you had to boil them and that if you boiled them with the beans then all sorts of goodness would happen in the pot. I was right.
We ate the beans with pagnotta bread from Eau a la Bouche which is I think my favourite type of bread and very plain goat cheese. Simple, relatively easy (especially for future as the beans made a mountain and I put two meals worth in the freezer) and homey - one of those comfort meals that feel like an internal hug.
Beans & Ham
A smoked ham hock
Enough water to cover
An onion, split into quarters
Two carrots, cut into quarters
Bring to a simmer and let bubble happily and covered for an hour.
300 g cannellini beans, soaked over night
After an hour, add the beans to the ham hock soup. Simmer for an hour or until beans are tender.
At this point I took the ham hock out and let it cool so that I could chop it up and put all the meaty bits aside for the finished product.
Meanwhile I chopped two red onions, two cloves of garlic and a sprig of rosemary, two glugs of olive oil and let them all sizzle and sing together for about ten minutes. Just before they started to colour I added three tablespoons of brown sugar and two of cider vinegar, stirred and then added a 400g can of chopped tomatoes. Stirred, let it all start to get to know each other and then spooned the beans into the pan, making sure to save the ham/bean cooking water.
I let it simmer and bubble until it looked like it had all come together, about 10 minutes, tasted, adjusted a bit of salt and pepper, added the ham hock meat pieces and tada - homemade baked beans. That weren't baked at all.
And now I have the most luxurious ham water with which to make pea soup. Stay tuned....
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Shot
I love that getting shot in your game is a Thing. Considered acceptable. Maybe even a bit cool and desired. Because then it is the Real Thing. And that adds a certain air to the meal, doesn't it?
I mean, as long as you don't break a tooth.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
Year of the Rabbit - Lapin Aux Olives
Happy Chinese New Year! It is the year of the rabbit! I'm not sure what this means for the world but I am hoping it will mean a year of delicious eating for me.
As it was a Thursday night I wanted to keep celebrations low key so instead of doing a blow out feast (that was Saturday when we celebrated Tet - details to come!) I made Anthony Bourdain's rabbit recipe in Les Halles - Lapin Aux Olives.
A bit of a process but straightforward enough and low stress, C & I sat down to a lovely proper feeling dinner of simple boiled and buttered potatoes, Vichy carrots (which always remind me of the Nazi friendly government) and the rabbit. Not very authentic but delicious nonetheless.
What do people eat to celebrate the year of the Dragon?
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Secret recipes
When I was a kid my mom made the most bestest popcorn cake. It had jujubes in it, and was simply popcorn and jujubes held together with marshmallow - like a rice crispy square only more exciting. It was her signature children's party dish. She made it for all sorts of events - bake sales, potlucks, sleepovers. She never shared the recipe. I'm pretty sure even I don't have the recipe.
Off the top of my head I can think of two secret recipes that I guard vigilantly and that I consider family secrets and potential heirloom knowledge. The truth is, they are neither.
One recipe is a slight rift on one I took from the internet a couple of years ago. It is a huge hit and a bit like crack - you think you don't want anymore but your hand keeps grabbing it and stuffing it in your mouth. The thing is, I know, KNOW, that if this recipe were to get out it would be EVERYWHERE. You'd go to parties and there it would be. It would be gifted to people at funerals and christenings. It would lose it's distinctive crack like addiction because it would
reach saturation point. And so I've only ever given the recipe to a few family members, on the express understanding that they are absolutely NOT to share it outside our blood ties.
The other recipe is taken directly from a cookbook I got out of the library years ago and that I follow meticulously every time I make it because to veer from its perfection would be a folly. It's a crowd pleaser. I make it often and every time I make it people swoon. How can something so commonplace, such a traditional dish be so delicious? So tasty and exciting?
People ask for the recipe. I have to say no. It's a secret. For two reasons. First, if I gave you the recipe, you'd make it. Then the magic of the meal that I placed before you on that magical dinner party night would be tarnished and you'd probably think less of me. It's silly. Probably a little self absorbed. But it's true. You can't tell me that by making something yourself you don't demystify it and take a bit of the magic out of it. It's not true for everything of course. But for this particular dish it is true...
The second reason is shame. If I place on the table an epic meal, of herculean proportions, taste sensations of awesomeness in something so humble, you will want to believe in it. You will want to believe in the magic of it - the alchemy of the best ingredients, lovingly prepared and carefully seasoned. There is definitely that element to it. It was made with love. It was made with the best ingredients. But it also contains a Secret Shameful Ingredient. If I told you what it was you wouldn't enjoy it as much and you'd think less of me as a cook and indeed as a person.
I can't let that happen. And so please understand why I can't share certain recipes with you. I'd be delighted to have you come over for dinner but I'll have everything in the oven before you arrive, dishes cleaned. I'll be sipping a glass of something bubbly when you walk in
the door, laughing at the delightful thing our friend just said, and you will never discover my secrets.
Off the top of my head I can think of two secret recipes that I guard vigilantly and that I consider family secrets and potential heirloom knowledge. The truth is, they are neither.
One recipe is a slight rift on one I took from the internet a couple of years ago. It is a huge hit and a bit like crack - you think you don't want anymore but your hand keeps grabbing it and stuffing it in your mouth. The thing is, I know, KNOW, that if this recipe were to get out it would be EVERYWHERE. You'd go to parties and there it would be. It would be gifted to people at funerals and christenings. It would lose it's distinctive crack like addiction because it would
reach saturation point. And so I've only ever given the recipe to a few family members, on the express understanding that they are absolutely NOT to share it outside our blood ties.
The other recipe is taken directly from a cookbook I got out of the library years ago and that I follow meticulously every time I make it because to veer from its perfection would be a folly. It's a crowd pleaser. I make it often and every time I make it people swoon. How can something so commonplace, such a traditional dish be so delicious? So tasty and exciting?
People ask for the recipe. I have to say no. It's a secret. For two reasons. First, if I gave you the recipe, you'd make it. Then the magic of the meal that I placed before you on that magical dinner party night would be tarnished and you'd probably think less of me. It's silly. Probably a little self absorbed. But it's true. You can't tell me that by making something yourself you don't demystify it and take a bit of the magic out of it. It's not true for everything of course. But for this particular dish it is true...
The second reason is shame. If I place on the table an epic meal, of herculean proportions, taste sensations of awesomeness in something so humble, you will want to believe in it. You will want to believe in the magic of it - the alchemy of the best ingredients, lovingly prepared and carefully seasoned. There is definitely that element to it. It was made with love. It was made with the best ingredients. But it also contains a Secret Shameful Ingredient. If I told you what it was you wouldn't enjoy it as much and you'd think less of me as a cook and indeed as a person.
I can't let that happen. And so please understand why I can't share certain recipes with you. I'd be delighted to have you come over for dinner but I'll have everything in the oven before you arrive, dishes cleaned. I'll be sipping a glass of something bubbly when you walk in
the door, laughing at the delightful thing our friend just said, and you will never discover my secrets.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Roasted Tomato and Sausage
When does a recipe become your own? How many times do you have to make it without following the original step by step to call it yours? How many changes, however slight, give you ownership of a set of instructions?
I think about that often while reading food blogs.
After the April sausage making class we had an abundance of sausages. In fact the freezer was quite full and it's only now that the numbers have dwindled enough for me to think about purchasing sausages again. For awhile we ate our homemade, artisan sausages with glee and they did in fact taste delicious - pride does add flavour! But then I started getting bored and looked around for sausage inspiration. I found a recipe on Jamie Oliver's site for sausages roasted with tomatoes to form a lovely sauce. Excellent. I followed the recipe and made the dish. Great - delicious, absolutely a make-again. And dead simple.
So the next time I glanced at the recipe and then went forth and made some changes. And then I made it again and didn't consult the recipe. And now, while the inspiration may have come from Jamie Oliver, the recipe is mine and it is one of my favourite comfort foods at the moment.
For two
Four sausages (Italian, cumberland, whatever. Preferably homemade ;)
A small mountain of cherry/grape tomatoes. I usually use a punnet and a half or so.
4 cloves of garlic, still in their skins
Herbs!
Rosemary, a sprig or two, finely chopped.
Thyme, three sprigs or so, finely chopped (or about a teaspoon of dried).
Oregano, half a teaspoon or so
Olive Oil
Balsamic vinegar
Salt and Pepper
The tomatoes get thrown into a roasting tin, the herbs sprinkled over top, douse with a bit of olive oil, be generous. Then add a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar. Mix about. Toss in the garlic.
Roll the sausages in the oil and place them on the tomatoes. This whole thing goes in the oven (180 degrees) for about 45 minutes. Turn the sausages and mix up the tomatoes about half through. You want them to roast and blacken a bit. Sometimes my sauce is too watery and then I pop in on the stove to boil away and simmer, adding the sausages at the end to warm up before serving.
It's unctuous and herby and warm and served over polenta that's got a shocking amount of butter and cheese in it it is one of my favourite meals of the moment.
The thing is, we are actually almost out of sausages and while the class was fun I don't really see us going back... so we'll have to BUY sausages like regular people. Ew. How common.
I think about that often while reading food blogs.
After the April sausage making class we had an abundance of sausages. In fact the freezer was quite full and it's only now that the numbers have dwindled enough for me to think about purchasing sausages again. For awhile we ate our homemade, artisan sausages with glee and they did in fact taste delicious - pride does add flavour! But then I started getting bored and looked around for sausage inspiration. I found a recipe on Jamie Oliver's site for sausages roasted with tomatoes to form a lovely sauce. Excellent. I followed the recipe and made the dish. Great - delicious, absolutely a make-again. And dead simple.
So the next time I glanced at the recipe and then went forth and made some changes. And then I made it again and didn't consult the recipe. And now, while the inspiration may have come from Jamie Oliver, the recipe is mine and it is one of my favourite comfort foods at the moment.
For two
Four sausages (Italian, cumberland, whatever. Preferably homemade ;)
A small mountain of cherry/grape tomatoes. I usually use a punnet and a half or so.
4 cloves of garlic, still in their skins
Herbs!
Rosemary, a sprig or two, finely chopped.
Thyme, three sprigs or so, finely chopped (or about a teaspoon of dried).
Oregano, half a teaspoon or so
Olive Oil
Balsamic vinegar
Salt and Pepper
The tomatoes get thrown into a roasting tin, the herbs sprinkled over top, douse with a bit of olive oil, be generous. Then add a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar. Mix about. Toss in the garlic.
Roll the sausages in the oil and place them on the tomatoes. This whole thing goes in the oven (180 degrees) for about 45 minutes. Turn the sausages and mix up the tomatoes about half through. You want them to roast and blacken a bit. Sometimes my sauce is too watery and then I pop in on the stove to boil away and simmer, adding the sausages at the end to warm up before serving.
It's unctuous and herby and warm and served over polenta that's got a shocking amount of butter and cheese in it it is one of my favourite meals of the moment.
The thing is, we are actually almost out of sausages and while the class was fun I don't really see us going back... so we'll have to BUY sausages like regular people. Ew. How common.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
On Reading the Recipe
Tonight's dinner is Two Potato Vindaloo from Ottolenghi's Plenty.
Exciting, no? trying a new recipe from one of my favourite books? And a spicy delicious vindaloo? How delightful on a cold rainy Tuesday evening in London! Before I left this morning, I read the list of ingredients, noting that we were out of cumin seeds and needed to pick up yogurt. I got trapped on Oxford Street and it took me awhile to get home but I got these last ingredients and at about 8:30 I started to make dinner.
And this is why you should ALWAYS READ THE ENTIRE RECIPE BEFORE YOU START.
Roast spices, grind. Check
Chop onions, begin to fry with spices. Check
Peel and chop potatoes. Check (with help from C)
Simmer spices and onion mixture for 20 minutes.
Simmer potatoes for 20 minutes.
Add sweet potatoes. Simmer for 40 minutes.
It's 10:30. We've got 10 more simmering minutes to go, then another 10 minutes to thicken the sauce. Assuming that the potatoes are tender. If not they'll obviously need more.
If we're lucky we will eat dinner at 11:00. If I had read the whole recipe I would have made something else.
This had better be good.
Exciting, no? trying a new recipe from one of my favourite books? And a spicy delicious vindaloo? How delightful on a cold rainy Tuesday evening in London! Before I left this morning, I read the list of ingredients, noting that we were out of cumin seeds and needed to pick up yogurt. I got trapped on Oxford Street and it took me awhile to get home but I got these last ingredients and at about 8:30 I started to make dinner.
And this is why you should ALWAYS READ THE ENTIRE RECIPE BEFORE YOU START.
Roast spices, grind. Check
Chop onions, begin to fry with spices. Check
Peel and chop potatoes. Check (with help from C)
Simmer spices and onion mixture for 20 minutes.
Simmer potatoes for 20 minutes.
Add sweet potatoes. Simmer for 40 minutes.
It's 10:30. We've got 10 more simmering minutes to go, then another 10 minutes to thicken the sauce. Assuming that the potatoes are tender. If not they'll obviously need more.
If we're lucky we will eat dinner at 11:00. If I had read the whole recipe I would have made something else.
This had better be good.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
My Perfect Roast Chicken
What is the perfect method to roast a perfect chicken?
Every once in awhile (ok, often) I like to pull out a bunch of recipe books and see how everyone handles a simple ingredient or process. I love the maxims that contradict, the "way my mother taught me"s, the traditions, the Way Things Ares, the certainty that though there may be other ways, theirs is truly the best, most authentic, the most PERFECT way. On a cool Sunday I pulled out Nigella Lawson, Nigel Slater, Jamie Oliver, I know how to cook, Silver Spoon, Joy of Cooking and Les Halles, looking for inspiration for my roast chicken.
I mean, I know how to roast a chicken. Clearly. I love the simplicity of a roast chicken. It seems like it should be a lot of work, it's impressive on some level. But really you just massage it with some fat, season it with some tasty stuff and toss it in the oven until it's not pink. Hardly rocket science.
But the Les Halles book by Anthony Bourdain was a bit more involved and I decided to (mostly) follow his instructions. Herb butter massaged in underneath the skin, herbs and lemon tucked up inside. The way he cooks his chicken though is my new favourite way to cook my chicken.
The oven gets pre heated to 375F/190C and you place the chicken inside the oven with a half cup of white wine in the pan. Baste occasionally and move the chicken about in the oven. Then you CRANK the oven up to 450F/230F and cook for another 25 minutes.
Leave it to rest and then carve up. It was the juiciest, most fragrant roast chicken, with the crispiest best skin I have ever made. And I don't usually like the skin. So this will be my new go to method for roasting a chicken until my next bout of curiosity leads me to something new.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Cream Corn of Love
Cream corn was one of my favourite foods growing up. I even remember my grandmother made her own and canned it. It is still an integral part of one of my all time favourite home comfy meals, which only really works when cooked by my mom. I love it. But I haven't eaten it in a really long time (at my house – I had it in June at my parents). Does it even exist in London? Have I grown out of it on some visceral level? When was the last time I ate it?
So tonight to accompany my new favourite roasted chicken, I made a recipe from Ottolenghi's Plenty – sweetcorn polenta with aubergine sauce. And, dear Reader, the memory, all the goodness, of cream corn, came flooding back to me. A taste. A memory. So incredibly evocative. It made a really big impact on me. I can't remember the last time I had such a strong food memory come and give me a hug and a kick at the same time.
It's not the same as canned or my Grandmother's, obviously. This one uses 6 cobs of fresh corn and 200g of feta cheese. But the sensation of being little, loved and loving cream corn? That was the same.
So tonight to accompany my new favourite roasted chicken, I made a recipe from Ottolenghi's Plenty – sweetcorn polenta with aubergine sauce. And, dear Reader, the memory, all the goodness, of cream corn, came flooding back to me. A taste. A memory. So incredibly evocative. It made a really big impact on me. I can't remember the last time I had such a strong food memory come and give me a hug and a kick at the same time.
It's not the same as canned or my Grandmother's, obviously. This one uses 6 cobs of fresh corn and 200g of feta cheese. But the sensation of being little, loved and loving cream corn? That was the same.
Sustainable Fish
How sustainable was your last meal of fish? If you don't know or didn't catch it yourself, chances are it wasn't. If you had salmon, tuna or shrimp recently (and who hasn't?) then you're probably guilty of plundering the seas for your own selfish appetite. I hope it was worthwhile and delicious. Please say you didn't overcook the salmon. That'd be disgraceful.
Here's a list of at-risk fish. This list tells you what to eat instead. Check it out and think about it next time you choose fish.
You know which fish isn't on the list? Grey mullet. We had that for dinner on Saturday night. Caught in the most sustainable way possible. A friend of our fishmonger's caught it. He went free diving and speared it. She showed us the spot on the fish's cheek. Yes, my Saturday night dinner was speared.
I love it. How caveman.
Anyways! It was delicious. I'm loving trying new fish that are guilt free.
I did the fish really simply, just pan fried with a bit of flour and paprika to dust it. I stole the accompanying salad from The Compass.
Fried Fish on Chorizo, Green Bean and Olive Salad
A big handful of green beans, tailed, blanched and refreshed
Two chorizos, sliced and fried to develop a lovely crust
Handful of left over roasted potatoes, warmed up with the chorizo
Small handful of pitted black olives
Toss together in the pan so all the ingredients are warmed through with chorizo oil and serve with your friend fish.
Here's a list of at-risk fish. This list tells you what to eat instead. Check it out and think about it next time you choose fish.
You know which fish isn't on the list? Grey mullet. We had that for dinner on Saturday night. Caught in the most sustainable way possible. A friend of our fishmonger's caught it. He went free diving and speared it. She showed us the spot on the fish's cheek. Yes, my Saturday night dinner was speared.
I love it. How caveman.
Anyways! It was delicious. I'm loving trying new fish that are guilt free.
I did the fish really simply, just pan fried with a bit of flour and paprika to dust it. I stole the accompanying salad from The Compass.
Fried Fish on Chorizo, Green Bean and Olive Salad
A big handful of green beans, tailed, blanched and refreshed
Two chorizos, sliced and fried to develop a lovely crust
Handful of left over roasted potatoes, warmed up with the chorizo
Small handful of pitted black olives
Toss together in the pan so all the ingredients are warmed through with chorizo oil and serve with your friend fish.
Sunday, August 08, 2010
The Best Tofu
Last night I made the most delicious, spiciest and awesomest tofu we have ever eaten at home. Possibly eaten anywhere.
I'm not a huge tofu fan. Without adequate love and care it mostly tastes of slime, gray and nothing. Not appetising. And I know plenty of people who think it's gross, end point. If that's your starting point I dare you to make Ottolenghi's Black Pepper Tofu. It's so damn delicious. The tofu, dusted with corn flour and fried so it developes a lovely crust and great texture, then the sauce it gets coated in is a silly savory dream of flavour, with killer spice, chili and, you guessed it, black pepper. So so so delicious.
Yotam's recipe is on the Guardian website. You can start there, or you can work from my changes. Mine was killer hot. If you follow Yotam's it might be assasination in the dead of night hot. Just saying...
Black Pepper Tofu
Prep and Sauce
80g butter (this is half what Yotam uses but was fine, I rarely shy away from excessive amounts of butter but come on- you always realise how MUCH butter you actually use when you weigh, plus I needed some for cookies)
12 small shallots, peeled and thinly sliced
12 garlic cloves, crushed
3 red chillies, thinly sliced (Yotam called for 8 mild ones. How do you check how hot they are? Take a bite? I opted for less, just to be safe. Turns out that was wise. Eight of these babies and it would have been inedible.)
About two inches of ginger, chopped into tiny pieces
Melt the butter in your saute pan and add the flavours. Let them melt into each other until nice and soft, about 15 minutes.
Meanwhile...
Tofu Prep
600g firm, fresh tofu - because that's the size it came in
Cornflour for dusting, and playing with water in afterwards
Vegetable oil, for frying
Cut your tofu into small blocks and dust with cornflour, shaking off any excess. Heat up the oil, not too much, and fry your tofu into cubes of golden, crusty deliciousness. You'll probably need to do this in batches. This is dangerous and involves much spitting hot oil. Set aside to drain and continue on with your sauce.
Finishing the sauce
3 tbsp sweet soy sauce (called kecap manis, it's sometimes referred to as Indonesian ketchup. It was a bit tough to find, if you can't get it you could substitute soy sauce with some molasses or palm sugar in it...)
3 tbsp light soy sauce
4 tsp light soy sauce (yes there are two entries for light soy sauce. This one was supposed to be dark soy sauce but I got confused and bought another giant bottle of light soy sauce instead of dark. Oops. Anybody need to borrow some soy sauce?)
Let the soy sauce dissolve into the garlic and butter- it should get silky and shiny looking.
Now. Add your coarsely crushed peppercorns. Yotam called for FIVE tablespoons. I used three. Again, killer hot.
Once the sauce is combined add your crusty tofu and let it warm up and get enveloped in the shiny sauce. Add a bunch of green/spring onions, thinly sliced and serve with copious amounts of rice, to balance the heat.
Friday, August 06, 2010
T is for Tart Failure
 |
| For a Fail Tart, it's quite pretty. |
There are a few recipe book authors who I trust implicitly. I have made enough of their recipes to trust that unless something goes drastically wrong (like the time I mixed up the baking powder and baking soda in the pancakes when I was seven – sorry dad, thanks for eating them anyways) the end result will likely be scrumptious and dependable.
So I am pretty disappointed with the tart I made last weekend. Not only did I actually follow the recipe to the letter, I also bought a bunch of ingredients especially for it, and it was sort of a kind of pricey endeavour. And it wasn't very good. It was slightly bitter. It didn't set properly. Yuck.
So I won't give you the recipe. Nor will I tell you where I got it from or who wrote it. It's their only spill up so far – I'll let the author get by scott free just this once.
However! The pasty bit of it was lovely- a bit of texture with the addition of polenta and some parmesan- and I had a bit left over so tonight I pulled it out of the freezer and made a fridge tart. And it was delicious and lovely and well set and much better than the fancy one I tried last week. So there.
Fridge Tart
Two leeks, chopped and softened in butter
Two cloves of roasted garlic
A half a pot of creme fraiche (about a quarter cup?)
Four sundried tomatoes, chopped
A quarter of a round of sheep's cheese, chopped
A pinch of chili
Left over pastry gets rolled out into a vaguely round shape. The fridge bits get mixed together, taste and season, then plopped in the middle, bring the sides up and bake until nicely browned.
Tada! MUCH better than the flouncy fussy one from last week. So there.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Lahooh!
We went to the Imperial War Museum's exhibit called Ministry of Food yesterday. It was great! You should go - it's open til January 2011 so you have plenty of time to plan your trip and come to visit us. (We even bought a new bit for the art line!) While we were there I was thinking about what we had in our fridge and how we shouldn't be wasteful and that we had an awful lot of random food in the fridge (market day was particular heavy on the cheese AND I visited the Ginger Pig) and that I didn't have any clear plan for dinner.
And then I remembered the silly number of carrots in the fridge and this recipe for Hot Carrot Salad and settled back to enjoy the rest of the day, comforted to know that dinner was taken care of.
The recipe suggests serving the carrot salad on crumpets. We didn't have any crumpets and while I made some for brunch last weekend I thought if I was going to go to the trouble of making them I could go to the trouble of making lahooh, which is what Yotam says the salad would tradtionally be served with. Yotam has never led me astray so I looked around on the magical internet for some details about lahooh. And I found a new site with a whole new world of cooking - Somalia. I am so excited to poke around and taste some new tastes!
Anyways. Lahooh. SO easy! It's basically a spongey crepe, similar to injera and a perfect foil for the (SPICY) aromatic carrot goodness.
Didn't get it perfect the first time but I will definitely try it again!
And then I remembered the silly number of carrots in the fridge and this recipe for Hot Carrot Salad and settled back to enjoy the rest of the day, comforted to know that dinner was taken care of.
The recipe suggests serving the carrot salad on crumpets. We didn't have any crumpets and while I made some for brunch last weekend I thought if I was going to go to the trouble of making them I could go to the trouble of making lahooh, which is what Yotam says the salad would tradtionally be served with. Yotam has never led me astray so I looked around on the magical internet for some details about lahooh. And I found a new site with a whole new world of cooking - Somalia. I am so excited to poke around and taste some new tastes!
Anyways. Lahooh. SO easy! It's basically a spongey crepe, similar to injera and a perfect foil for the (SPICY) aromatic carrot goodness.
Didn't get it perfect the first time but I will definitely try it again!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tartiflette
Is it cold where you are? Are you hungry? Do you have a small mountain of French cheese in your fridge?
You DO!?
Excellent. You should make a tartiflette for dinner then. You should probably eat it with little gerkins and balsamic caramelised onions and a crisp apple cider.
A tartiflette appears to be a dish of fried potatoes, pig bits and Reblochon cheese, but since the cheese choice is apparently the result of a trade union attempting to increase market share I think you can (and I did) use whatever delicious melty type cheese you have available. Except that mozzarella that you use for pizzas. Ew. Please don't put rubber cheese on this. Do that much for me.
Tonight's tartiflette was brought to you by Diana Henry's Roast Fig, Sugar Snow: Food to Warm the Soul. It also provided the recipe for our Christmas Goose (six kilos of bird with a brandied fig, chestnut and cranberry stuffing). It's a cold weather book that ought to be read under a blanket, preferably beside a fire.
This fed two of us with a bit leftover which we will nibble on for lunch...
1lb or baby potatoes, boiled til just tender then cooled and sliced
4oz of smoked bacon, cut in bigger than normal chunks (about four rashers- I know it was four ounces because I weighed it) (nerd)
1 small onion, roughly chopped
1 garlic clove, chopped
4 sage leaves, roughly torn
2 big dollops of Crème fraiche (you could probably omit this if you live in a sad place without it - or you could make your own!)
Half a camembert (or 4 ounces of melty cheese of your choice)
Turn the oven to about 190.
Fry the sliced potatoes until golden, season, then set aside in an oven proof pan.
In your potato pan melt a dollop of butter and fry your bacon until nicely coloured. Turn down the heat, add your onion and cook til just colouring. Add the garlic and sage and stir for a moment or two. Fold the bacon mixture gently into the golden potatoes.
Dollop the creme fraiche strategically on top, then lovingly place slices of your cheese over the potatoes. Pop in the oven til the cheese is melty and delicious- this may happen quickly so keep an eye on it!
Take it out and eat!
You DO!?
Excellent. You should make a tartiflette for dinner then. You should probably eat it with little gerkins and balsamic caramelised onions and a crisp apple cider.
A tartiflette appears to be a dish of fried potatoes, pig bits and Reblochon cheese, but since the cheese choice is apparently the result of a trade union attempting to increase market share I think you can (and I did) use whatever delicious melty type cheese you have available. Except that mozzarella that you use for pizzas. Ew. Please don't put rubber cheese on this. Do that much for me.
Tonight's tartiflette was brought to you by Diana Henry's Roast Fig, Sugar Snow: Food to Warm the Soul. It also provided the recipe for our Christmas Goose (six kilos of bird with a brandied fig, chestnut and cranberry stuffing). It's a cold weather book that ought to be read under a blanket, preferably beside a fire.
This fed two of us with a bit leftover which we will nibble on for lunch...
1lb or baby potatoes, boiled til just tender then cooled and sliced
4oz of smoked bacon, cut in bigger than normal chunks (about four rashers- I know it was four ounces because I weighed it) (nerd)
1 small onion, roughly chopped
1 garlic clove, chopped
4 sage leaves, roughly torn
2 big dollops of Crème fraiche (you could probably omit this if you live in a sad place without it - or you could make your own!)
Half a camembert (or 4 ounces of melty cheese of your choice)
Turn the oven to about 190.
Fry the sliced potatoes until golden, season, then set aside in an oven proof pan.
In your potato pan melt a dollop of butter and fry your bacon until nicely coloured. Turn down the heat, add your onion and cook til just colouring. Add the garlic and sage and stir for a moment or two. Fold the bacon mixture gently into the golden potatoes.
Dollop the creme fraiche strategically on top, then lovingly place slices of your cheese over the potatoes. Pop in the oven til the cheese is melty and delicious- this may happen quickly so keep an eye on it!
Take it out and eat!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Roasted Red Pepper & Cannellini Crostini
Oh god. The title isn't long enough to describe what we had for dinner. It should read 'roasted & marinated red pepper and garlic with lemony cannellini bean paste crostini'. Even that doesn't really begin to explain to you how good dinner was.
The recipe is, again, from Ottolenghi. I am cooking my way through this book. As should you. Everything I have made has been stellar. And distinctive. There is a definitive style to their cooking but it really works with where I've been wanting to take my own cooking. (Think Claudia Roden, Crazy Water, Pickled Lemon, Moro)
So. Go buy the book. Then marinate your roasted red peppers in balsamic vinegar, thyme, sugar and olive oil. Puree some freshly cooked cannellini beans with lemon, garlic, olive oil and plenty of salt. Top with green onions.
Eat and rejoice that food is so damn good.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Leah's Sweet Potato Gratin
Awhile ago I made the Sweet Potato Gratin from Ottolenghi. It was great. A definite 'make again'. So I was at home myself the other night with a lone sweet potato and I thought I'd make that for dinner.
Only I improved it.
I started it off the same way, roasting in the oven with tin foil. But for the second step I fried up some bacon and sauteed some mushrooms and garlic which I added to the cream that gets poured over the sweet potatoes for the second step. So you've got creamy sweet potato goodness with garlicy mushrooms and bacon.
Awesome.
I love that the Ottolenghi recipes are so approachable and yet once I've made them the first time I have the confidence to play with them. And that is fantastically fun cooking!
Only I improved it.
I started it off the same way, roasting in the oven with tin foil. But for the second step I fried up some bacon and sauteed some mushrooms and garlic which I added to the cream that gets poured over the sweet potatoes for the second step. So you've got creamy sweet potato goodness with garlicy mushrooms and bacon.
Awesome.
I love that the Ottolenghi recipes are so approachable and yet once I've made them the first time I have the confidence to play with them. And that is fantastically fun cooking!
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Not Turkey
My mother makes a fantastic Christmas spread every year. The menu is utterly dependable (much to her chagrin) and always delicious. It's also her thing, and her tradition (albeit for us). It is sadly not appropriate for two people celebrating Christmas far from their families in eerily quiet London. I can't do Christmas like my mom does- and I don't think I should try. But she does have a reputation for fantastically fabulous New Years Eve meals. So in the spirit of that, I made Christmas dinner for C and I.
And. It. Was. AWESOME.
Not particularly difficult (I think it took me an hour to make, which was good as it was 10:00 pm before we had called everyone and were ready to start dinner), not a decadent, heaping amount of food. Lovely beautiful flavours that sang. Quite possibly one of the best meals I've ever made.
Roasted red peppers.
Balsamic braised shallots.
Crispy potatoes.
Lemon mustard aioli.
And a gorgeously tender, succulent beef tenderloin.
Oh god. And a special bottle of Cote du Rhone.
And. It. Was. AWESOME.
Not particularly difficult (I think it took me an hour to make, which was good as it was 10:00 pm before we had called everyone and were ready to start dinner), not a decadent, heaping amount of food. Lovely beautiful flavours that sang. Quite possibly one of the best meals I've ever made.
Roasted red peppers.
Balsamic braised shallots.
Crispy potatoes.
Lemon mustard aioli.
And a gorgeously tender, succulent beef tenderloin.
Oh god. And a special bottle of Cote du Rhone.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Mini Sweet Potato Gratin
I first read about Ottolenghi on Heidi's blog. She had the cookbook and I thought it sounded good - a cookbook I might pick up for myself. And then I realised it was also a restaurant. In LONDON. I was/am tickled to know that I found out about a London eatery through a blogger in San Francisco. Oh Internet I Heart You. Sometimes.
It turns out that Ottolenghi was the secret location that my friend A wanted to introduce me to. So I would have found it eventually. But still.
The restaurant on Upper Street is somewhat manic. I wonder if they realised what they were doing when the designed it - the food is all placed (on beautiful platters) up at the front where you queue for a seat and where take-away takers pile in to grab their to go boxes. There is no rhyme or reason between the queuers, the take-aways or the servers. Madness ensues and envelops you until you sit down at the long white table and finally decide on your meal. Which is always delicious, and usually inventive in some, well, inventive way.
I quite like it. If you live in London, you should visit it. If you're visiting London, I'll probably take you there.
At any rate, I did end up buying the cookbook (from Amazon and it arrived slightly scrunched which made me unhappy but returning it was too much of a hassle.). And so far I really like it - there are a ton of recipes I want to try. My only peeve with it (and most other recipe books) is that the serving amounts are almost always astronomical. Sweet potato gratin for SIX to EIGHT? If the only time I ever cooked was when I had enough guests to make these dishes I would never cook. Do you know how much is left over when you cook for two people the quantities designed for SIX TO EIGHT? I am not one of those people who can make a pot of chilli and then eat it all week. Please.
So I ended up making (and quartering) Danielle's (Mini) Sweet Potato Gratin. And it was simple and creamy and good and served with a simple green salad made a nice, light dinner for C & I. With no leftovers.
1 Sweet Potato (or a yam, which ever you think it is - I mean the orange one)
a sprig of two of sage
1 clove of garlic
2 glugs of olive oil
S&P
About 60ml of cream
Slice the potato into thin rounds. Chop up the garlic and the sage and toss with the olive oil, S&P and potato rounds. arrange in a roasting dish, overlapping each other. Roast for about 40 minutes. Pour the cream over and roast for another 20 minutes or so until the cream is browned and thick.
There's picture coming but C has a cold tonight. (C's Edit: Now with photo! Still have cold though.)
It turns out that Ottolenghi was the secret location that my friend A wanted to introduce me to. So I would have found it eventually. But still.
The restaurant on Upper Street is somewhat manic. I wonder if they realised what they were doing when the designed it - the food is all placed (on beautiful platters) up at the front where you queue for a seat and where take-away takers pile in to grab their to go boxes. There is no rhyme or reason between the queuers, the take-aways or the servers. Madness ensues and envelops you until you sit down at the long white table and finally decide on your meal. Which is always delicious, and usually inventive in some, well, inventive way.
I quite like it. If you live in London, you should visit it. If you're visiting London, I'll probably take you there.
At any rate, I did end up buying the cookbook (from Amazon and it arrived slightly scrunched which made me unhappy but returning it was too much of a hassle.). And so far I really like it - there are a ton of recipes I want to try. My only peeve with it (and most other recipe books) is that the serving amounts are almost always astronomical. Sweet potato gratin for SIX to EIGHT? If the only time I ever cooked was when I had enough guests to make these dishes I would never cook. Do you know how much is left over when you cook for two people the quantities designed for SIX TO EIGHT? I am not one of those people who can make a pot of chilli and then eat it all week. Please.
So I ended up making (and quartering) Danielle's (Mini) Sweet Potato Gratin. And it was simple and creamy and good and served with a simple green salad made a nice, light dinner for C & I. With no leftovers.
1 Sweet Potato (or a yam, which ever you think it is - I mean the orange one)
a sprig of two of sage
1 clove of garlic
2 glugs of olive oil
S&P
About 60ml of cream
Slice the potato into thin rounds. Chop up the garlic and the sage and toss with the olive oil, S&P and potato rounds. arrange in a roasting dish, overlapping each other. Roast for about 40 minutes. Pour the cream over and roast for another 20 minutes or so until the cream is browned and thick.
There's picture coming but C has a cold tonight. (C's Edit: Now with photo! Still have cold though.)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Pad Thai
I am, all things considered, a pretty good good. (She writes modestly.) I can cook. I can follow a recipe. I can make things out of nothing. But very occasionally something goes wrong. I can count four things that were so bad I couldn't even eat them:
Tonight I have redeemed myself. Tonight dinner was awesome and good and quick and easy and filling and cheap.
I made pad thai and it was good.
I've had this recipe bookmarked in my Make Me folder for ages and finally decided to make it tonight. It's not so much of a step by step recipe as it is a suggestion for how to achieve awesomeness in a bowl - and isn't that what we're all looking for?
- Pancakes- I mixed up baking soda and baking powder. They were disgusting. My dad still ate them. I was seven. They haunt me still.
- Pumpkin and porcini soup- Living in Calgary with Karla and her five foot long, free roaming iguana named Monster. It was gloopy. And gross.
- Parathas- these just didn't work out. They didn't look like they should. They were really heavy. Mike ate them anyway, bless him. We ended up going out of Springrolls.
- Pad Thai - early in my relationship with C, pad thai was the first thing I screwed up so much it was unpalatable- note to self: fish sauce is salty, so you probably don't need to add salt.
Tonight I have redeemed myself. Tonight dinner was awesome and good and quick and easy and filling and cheap.
I made pad thai and it was good.
I've had this recipe bookmarked in my Make Me folder for ages and finally decided to make it tonight. It's not so much of a step by step recipe as it is a suggestion for how to achieve awesomeness in a bowl - and isn't that what we're all looking for?
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