Dover sole is one of those things, like partridge, that is perfect for one person - a small sole, on the bone, cooks quickly and is the perfect size. My views on sole are very much those of Nigel Slater ("crisp white tablecloths, doddery waiters, and careful, old-fashioned cooking"), and the crisp white tablecloth was very much in evidence at the restaurant where I got the inspiration for this dish. Of course, they caramelised the cauliflower and turned it into a puree, and the mushrooms were chanterelles, but the drizzle of truffle oil in this more than makes up for the lack of an entire brigade of sous-chefs in my version.
I had this as is, but it would work with some crusty bread, new potatoes, a green veg or a few leaves.
Dover sole with cauliflower and mushrooms
4 regular-sized white mushrooms
1/4 cauliflower
1 whole dover sole, around 250g weight, skinned
Plain flour
butter
4 tbs sour cream or creme fraiche
1 tbs capers
1 tbs chopped parsley
drizzle truffle oil
First deal with the veg: break the cauliflower into smallish florets, and toss these and the mushrooms with a little oil and salt. Pop into an oven at around 200 celsius for ten minutes before starting the rest of the cooking. Drink some wine and read a few pages of the paper whilst you're waiting.
After the ten minutes are up, dust your dover sole lightly in flour and heat a tbs of butter in a frying pan. Once the butter is sizzling decently, slide in the sole and leave it for at least 3 minutes until you can see it browning round the edges. Turn over and repeat on the other side, adding a little more butter if necessary. In total it will need 8-10 minutes, depending on weight.
Once the sole is cooked, turn the oven out and pop the sole in with the veg to keep warm for a moment. Unless you've managed to burn the butter, you should just have a few brown crispy bits in the pan, so don't wipe this out. Just tip in the sour cream, leave to bubble for a minute, then add the capers, parsley, and the truffle oil if you have some hanging round (as a rule, I do). Warm for another 30 seconds or so whilst you put the sole and veg onto a plate, and then tip the sauce over.
Wednesday 8 December 2010
Monday 8 November 2010
A more wintery quick pasta
Looking back to this post, I can't help but notice how light and summery they all are. The weather today has been miserable - grey, rainy, and windy - and frankly the last thing I want for dinner is a fresh tomato.
I had some cauliflower in the fridge left over from another recipe (more on that at a later date), and had a vague idea of a robust pasta dish like this, but with a different type of brassica flower. Then I opened the tin of anchovies, nibbled a bit of one (as is my wont when faced with an open tin of the beauties), and decided to go the whole hog and make anchovies as much the star of the show as the cauliflower.
Originally, I made this recipe with a whole tin of anchovies. I think that's too much, and I would classify myself as a serious anchovy fan, but one friend (@peteellender) suggested he'd be up for trying it. If you do give it a go, let me know what you think, and don't say I didn't warn you. Otherwise, the leftover anchovies will last for weeks in the fridge, covered in a thin layer of oil.
Cauliflower and anchovy pasta
75g short pasta shapes (orecchiette would probably be perfect)
100g cauliflower, cut into small florets
1/2 to 2/3 50g tin anchovies, including their oil
pinch chilli flakes
handful roughly chopped parsley
Start the pasta off, and at the same time heat the oil from the anchovies in a frying pan or small saucepan to which you have a lid. Tip in the cauliflower and cover, leaving to brown slightly whilst also steaming in it's own juices. You might need to add a splash or two of water after the first few minutes. Chop the anchovies finely. After 5 minutes, tip the chilli flakes and anchovies into the frying pan, and squish the anchovies until they start melting and forming a sauce. Cover the pan again and cook until your pasta is done; drain the pasta and combine the two with the parsley.
No parmesan; with all the anchovies, you really don't need it!
I had some cauliflower in the fridge left over from another recipe (more on that at a later date), and had a vague idea of a robust pasta dish like this, but with a different type of brassica flower. Then I opened the tin of anchovies, nibbled a bit of one (as is my wont when faced with an open tin of the beauties), and decided to go the whole hog and make anchovies as much the star of the show as the cauliflower.
Originally, I made this recipe with a whole tin of anchovies. I think that's too much, and I would classify myself as a serious anchovy fan, but one friend (@peteellender) suggested he'd be up for trying it. If you do give it a go, let me know what you think, and don't say I didn't warn you. Otherwise, the leftover anchovies will last for weeks in the fridge, covered in a thin layer of oil.
Cauliflower and anchovy pasta
75g short pasta shapes (orecchiette would probably be perfect)
100g cauliflower, cut into small florets
1/2 to 2/3 50g tin anchovies, including their oil
pinch chilli flakes
handful roughly chopped parsley
Start the pasta off, and at the same time heat the oil from the anchovies in a frying pan or small saucepan to which you have a lid. Tip in the cauliflower and cover, leaving to brown slightly whilst also steaming in it's own juices. You might need to add a splash or two of water after the first few minutes. Chop the anchovies finely. After 5 minutes, tip the chilli flakes and anchovies into the frying pan, and squish the anchovies until they start melting and forming a sauce. Cover the pan again and cook until your pasta is done; drain the pasta and combine the two with the parsley.
No parmesan; with all the anchovies, you really don't need it!
Monday 11 October 2010
Facing the inevitable
Well, it had to happen eventually. There's only so long a blog about eating for one can survive without a post about that staple of singleton cuisine: the omelette. Delia dedicates most of a chapter to them, but my inspiration on this topic has always been Elizabeth David's classic essay, 'An omelette and a glass of wine'. Her note at the end, that "the enjoyment of food and wine seems to me to lie in having what you want when you want it" is a rule I live by, although one I sometimes struggle to link to the rushed cooking that life all too often seems to push me in to. So, in the recipes below, I've tried to offer a few suggestions for how one can add a bit of luxury to a simple dinner: if in doubt, though, add that glass of wine.
A month or so ago, I mentioned on twitter that I was planning on writing this post, and one of the most valuable pieces of advice I got back (thanks to my wonderful brother-in-sin) was to get the pan really hot. Of course, to do this, you also need a good pan. I recently purchased myself a 20cm non-stick French skillet, and would strongly recommend it as the perfect omelette pan. Mine is by Meyer/Circulon, cost me £20, and has a gloriously thick base which heats up quickly, holds all that heat, and then gets it right into the eggs like nobody's business. So, please, remove that ancient, slight-too-large frying pan with the rather warped base from your cupboard before trying these recipes.
Another habit I had, until recently, was to try and create an omelette by stirring the eggs once they were in the pan, trying to do that pull-up-the-edges-and-let-the-raw-egg-flow-in thing that I'd read about. I never made it work. Elizabeth David saved me once again: she quotes a recipe where the omelette is created by vigorously shaking the pan once the eggs are in. I had read this several times before, but refused to believe it could work; finally, I thought it was worth at least one try. I put my generous amount of butter in the pan; I waited till it was totally frothing; I tipped the eggs in; and I shook like a woman possessed. And, by some miracle, it worked. I got the lightest, creamiest, most evenly cooked omelette I'd ever made. If you've doubted this method before, please, please, give it a try: it might just change your life.
So: that's the eggs sorted. I need a little more for dinner, though, so beneath are a few ideas for what else to add to your omelette.
A mushroom omelette
This is the basic omelette I make when I have 10 minutes within which to both cook and eat dinner. I use around 5 medium sized basic supermarket mushrooms, very finely sliced, and fry them gently in a decent knob of butter and a beyond-decent amount of salt until they have wilted and their juices have mostly evaporated. You then need to remove them from the pan, and heat a fresh quantity of butter to a higher temperature. Once you've added the eggs and given them a good initial shake (i.e. once the omelette is around two-thirds of the way towards your preferred set), tip the mushrooms back in, and continue shaking. Some of the slices will sink down into the eggs, others will stay on the surface.
This is one omelette I like rolled up in a traditional fashion. In order to do this, you need to keep shaking the pan, but shaking it mostly away from you, so the omelette starts creeping up the far side of your pan. Give the underside of the far edge a little nudge back towards you, and keep shaking away, and nudging the underside towards you, until you have a neat little roll. The hardest part is getting this confection onto your plate without breaking it: I have no solution to this problem. Either way, it will at least taste good.
...and two ways to tart it up
The first way to add a little extra to your mushroom omelette is with a tablespoon or so of chopped herbs. I tend towards tarragon, because it has that highly refined aniseed flavour that is so reminiscent of classic French cookery; chives or some of the very small, soft leaves from a branch of sage also work well.
The alternative is to add a few drops of truffle oil to your eggs. The stuff is pricey (the bottle I'm currently on, from Carluccio's, costs £8 for 50ml), but you need such a tiny amount for such a vast amount of flavour and luxury that it's entirely worth keeping a bottle in your cupboard for emergencies. 1/2 tsp for a 2-egg omelette scents it perfectly; just whisk it in to the eggs before cooking them
Shrimp and pea
I had thought that the idea for this originated with Simon Hopkinson, but re-reading him lately I couldn't find any mention of it. Either way, this is a fairly tweaked version. In addition to your eggs, you need a tub of potted shrimp, a large handful of peas (defrosted frozen ones are fine), and perhaps a tablespoon or so of herbs (again, I tend towards tarragon, but parsley would also be good here).
Take the top layer of butter off the top of the shrimps, and heat in the frying pan. Once bubbling, add the eggs as before, and once they start to set, scatter the shrimps, peas, and herbs over the top. Continue to shake and cook until the omelette is set.
Chorizo, potato, and parsley
This is a recipe for those of you who don't think you like eggs enough to eat omelettes. When very little I was allergic to eggs, and although I grew out of it, I still didn't enjoy eating them in any obviously-eggy format until I tried something like this a couple of years ago. I'm now quite happy eating semi-raw, sloppy, unadulterated omelettes, but I still come back to this dish on a regular basis.
Frying the potatoes takes a while, so this isn't such a fast recipe as those above: one for when you have half an hour, not ten minutes. Also: I don't normally recommend a dish where you use 1/3 of the quantity of an ingredient as normally sold in supermarkets, but chorizo will last for a month or so in the fridge, so you'll have plenty of time to use this in other meals.
You'll need:
1 small potato
around 1/3 of a cooking chorizo
2 eggs
large handful of parsley
Chop the potato and chorizo into roughly 1 cm cubes. Fry the chorizo for a few minutes, until it has released its oil and is crisping up nicely, and then remove from the pan. Tip in the potato cubes, and fry gently for 10 minutes or so, until softened, then return the chorizo to the pan. Whisk the eggs up with the herbs, tip into the pan, and start shaking; you may need to stir this one a little to lift the potato and chorizo off the bottom of the pan and give the eggs a chance to get to the heat. The extra volume also means that it will take a little longer to set than the recipes above: maybe 3 or 4 minutes in total.
Glasses of wine with all the above purely optional, but highly recommended, as ever.
A month or so ago, I mentioned on twitter that I was planning on writing this post, and one of the most valuable pieces of advice I got back (thanks to my wonderful brother-in-sin) was to get the pan really hot. Of course, to do this, you also need a good pan. I recently purchased myself a 20cm non-stick French skillet, and would strongly recommend it as the perfect omelette pan. Mine is by Meyer/Circulon, cost me £20, and has a gloriously thick base which heats up quickly, holds all that heat, and then gets it right into the eggs like nobody's business. So, please, remove that ancient, slight-too-large frying pan with the rather warped base from your cupboard before trying these recipes.
Another habit I had, until recently, was to try and create an omelette by stirring the eggs once they were in the pan, trying to do that pull-up-the-edges-and-let-the-raw-egg-flow-in thing that I'd read about. I never made it work. Elizabeth David saved me once again: she quotes a recipe where the omelette is created by vigorously shaking the pan once the eggs are in. I had read this several times before, but refused to believe it could work; finally, I thought it was worth at least one try. I put my generous amount of butter in the pan; I waited till it was totally frothing; I tipped the eggs in; and I shook like a woman possessed. And, by some miracle, it worked. I got the lightest, creamiest, most evenly cooked omelette I'd ever made. If you've doubted this method before, please, please, give it a try: it might just change your life.
So: that's the eggs sorted. I need a little more for dinner, though, so beneath are a few ideas for what else to add to your omelette.
A mushroom omelette
This is the basic omelette I make when I have 10 minutes within which to both cook and eat dinner. I use around 5 medium sized basic supermarket mushrooms, very finely sliced, and fry them gently in a decent knob of butter and a beyond-decent amount of salt until they have wilted and their juices have mostly evaporated. You then need to remove them from the pan, and heat a fresh quantity of butter to a higher temperature. Once you've added the eggs and given them a good initial shake (i.e. once the omelette is around two-thirds of the way towards your preferred set), tip the mushrooms back in, and continue shaking. Some of the slices will sink down into the eggs, others will stay on the surface.
This is one omelette I like rolled up in a traditional fashion. In order to do this, you need to keep shaking the pan, but shaking it mostly away from you, so the omelette starts creeping up the far side of your pan. Give the underside of the far edge a little nudge back towards you, and keep shaking away, and nudging the underside towards you, until you have a neat little roll. The hardest part is getting this confection onto your plate without breaking it: I have no solution to this problem. Either way, it will at least taste good.
...and two ways to tart it up
The first way to add a little extra to your mushroom omelette is with a tablespoon or so of chopped herbs. I tend towards tarragon, because it has that highly refined aniseed flavour that is so reminiscent of classic French cookery; chives or some of the very small, soft leaves from a branch of sage also work well.
The alternative is to add a few drops of truffle oil to your eggs. The stuff is pricey (the bottle I'm currently on, from Carluccio's, costs £8 for 50ml), but you need such a tiny amount for such a vast amount of flavour and luxury that it's entirely worth keeping a bottle in your cupboard for emergencies. 1/2 tsp for a 2-egg omelette scents it perfectly; just whisk it in to the eggs before cooking them
Shrimp and pea
I had thought that the idea for this originated with Simon Hopkinson, but re-reading him lately I couldn't find any mention of it. Either way, this is a fairly tweaked version. In addition to your eggs, you need a tub of potted shrimp, a large handful of peas (defrosted frozen ones are fine), and perhaps a tablespoon or so of herbs (again, I tend towards tarragon, but parsley would also be good here).
Take the top layer of butter off the top of the shrimps, and heat in the frying pan. Once bubbling, add the eggs as before, and once they start to set, scatter the shrimps, peas, and herbs over the top. Continue to shake and cook until the omelette is set.
Chorizo, potato, and parsley
This is a recipe for those of you who don't think you like eggs enough to eat omelettes. When very little I was allergic to eggs, and although I grew out of it, I still didn't enjoy eating them in any obviously-eggy format until I tried something like this a couple of years ago. I'm now quite happy eating semi-raw, sloppy, unadulterated omelettes, but I still come back to this dish on a regular basis.
Frying the potatoes takes a while, so this isn't such a fast recipe as those above: one for when you have half an hour, not ten minutes. Also: I don't normally recommend a dish where you use 1/3 of the quantity of an ingredient as normally sold in supermarkets, but chorizo will last for a month or so in the fridge, so you'll have plenty of time to use this in other meals.
You'll need:
1 small potato
around 1/3 of a cooking chorizo
2 eggs
large handful of parsley
Chop the potato and chorizo into roughly 1 cm cubes. Fry the chorizo for a few minutes, until it has released its oil and is crisping up nicely, and then remove from the pan. Tip in the potato cubes, and fry gently for 10 minutes or so, until softened, then return the chorizo to the pan. Whisk the eggs up with the herbs, tip into the pan, and start shaking; you may need to stir this one a little to lift the potato and chorizo off the bottom of the pan and give the eggs a chance to get to the heat. The extra volume also means that it will take a little longer to set than the recipes above: maybe 3 or 4 minutes in total.
Glasses of wine with all the above purely optional, but highly recommended, as ever.
Wednesday 18 August 2010
A shopping list, and two recipes, for a British summer
As I write this, I'm looking out my window at a blue sky, from which is apparently falling a very heavy rainshower. It seems that, after the last few months of almost interrupted sunshine, we're finally getting a traditional British summer.
When the weather's good, I know what I want to cook. When the weather's bad, I know what I want to cook. But when it's like this, I struggle. I can't decide from one hour to the next what I want to cook, which makes shopping somewhat difficult. Last week, I was going to make a light salad for dinner, but when the barometer started getting low, it transformed itself into a rich gratin.
Here's what you need to buy:
1 head chicory
100g blue cheese - roquefort or gorgonzola would be personal favourites
large handful walnuts
100g French or German garlic salami (veggies - you can skip this)
Loaf of bread - a ciabatta or sourdough is probably best
And I'm also assuming that you already have olive oil, vinegar, mustard, butter, milk, and flour in the kitchen.
Salad
Lightly toast the walnuts in a dry frying pan, then crumble into halves or so. Cut a couple of slices of the bread into top-thumb-joint-sized chunks, toss in a little olive oil, then fry until golden and crispy croutons have formed. Pull the chicory into leaves, tearing each into two or three. Mix a dressing with 1/2 tsp mustard, a large glug of vinegar, and one of olive oil, then toss the chicory in it. Cut the cheese into cubes, and tear up the salami if the slices are particularly large. Combine all the ingredients.
Gratin
Slice the chicory in two lengthways, and fry, cut-side down, in a little olive oil until browned.
Meanwhile, make a white sauce:
Melt 1 heaped tbs butter in a saucepan, and when it starts to froth, stir in 1 heaped tbs flour, and cook for a minute, maybe. Turn the heat down, and stir in 1/2 pint milk, adding it gradually and making sure the sauce is totally smooth and lump-free before adding more milk. Use a whisk if you need to. Turn the heat up slightly again, and bring the sauce to the boil, stirring all the time to stop it catching on the bottom. Once it's boiled, it will have thickened and stabilised, so you can stop stirring and leave it to simmer gently for around 5 minutes. Cut your cheese and salami up, and stir in to the sauce. Taste it - it probably won't need seasoning, but it might.
Place your chicory into a shallow oven dish, and pour over the cheese and salami sauce. Whizz a couple of slices of bread, the walnuts, and a drop of oil in a food processor until breadcrumbed, then scatter over the top. Bake at 200 degrees for 20 minutes or until sizzling and brown on top.
When the weather's good, I know what I want to cook. When the weather's bad, I know what I want to cook. But when it's like this, I struggle. I can't decide from one hour to the next what I want to cook, which makes shopping somewhat difficult. Last week, I was going to make a light salad for dinner, but when the barometer started getting low, it transformed itself into a rich gratin.
Here's what you need to buy:
1 head chicory
100g blue cheese - roquefort or gorgonzola would be personal favourites
large handful walnuts
100g French or German garlic salami (veggies - you can skip this)
Loaf of bread - a ciabatta or sourdough is probably best
And I'm also assuming that you already have olive oil, vinegar, mustard, butter, milk, and flour in the kitchen.
Salad
Lightly toast the walnuts in a dry frying pan, then crumble into halves or so. Cut a couple of slices of the bread into top-thumb-joint-sized chunks, toss in a little olive oil, then fry until golden and crispy croutons have formed. Pull the chicory into leaves, tearing each into two or three. Mix a dressing with 1/2 tsp mustard, a large glug of vinegar, and one of olive oil, then toss the chicory in it. Cut the cheese into cubes, and tear up the salami if the slices are particularly large. Combine all the ingredients.
Gratin
Slice the chicory in two lengthways, and fry, cut-side down, in a little olive oil until browned.
Meanwhile, make a white sauce:
Melt 1 heaped tbs butter in a saucepan, and when it starts to froth, stir in 1 heaped tbs flour, and cook for a minute, maybe. Turn the heat down, and stir in 1/2 pint milk, adding it gradually and making sure the sauce is totally smooth and lump-free before adding more milk. Use a whisk if you need to. Turn the heat up slightly again, and bring the sauce to the boil, stirring all the time to stop it catching on the bottom. Once it's boiled, it will have thickened and stabilised, so you can stop stirring and leave it to simmer gently for around 5 minutes. Cut your cheese and salami up, and stir in to the sauce. Taste it - it probably won't need seasoning, but it might.
Place your chicory into a shallow oven dish, and pour over the cheese and salami sauce. Whizz a couple of slices of bread, the walnuts, and a drop of oil in a food processor until breadcrumbed, then scatter over the top. Bake at 200 degrees for 20 minutes or until sizzling and brown on top.
Saturday 7 August 2010
Quick pasta for busy people
Obviously, being single, my life is a whirl of parties and social events, which means I often only have a few minutes to cook dinner before I have to go out again.* Here are three of my favourite fast pasta sauces, none of which require more than one saucepan and the time it takes to cook the pasta:
Tomatoes, Ricotta, Basil
75g pasta (fusilli, penne, etc best here)
60g cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
3 tbs ricotta cheese
large handful basil, roughly chopped
Cook pasta; drain and stir in the tomatoes, a drizzle of olive oil, and a good pinch or two of salt. Add the ricotta in teaspoonfuls, then the basil, and stir lightly to combine.
NB. I'll never normally add salt to food, but the tomatoes and the ricotta in this recipe both really need it, so do be generous.
Fresh Tart
This is an instant, fresher, version of a classic recipe called Pasta Puttanesca, or Tart's Pasta (for the original, see Delia).
75g pasta (whichever you like)
60g cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
1 red chilli, de-seeded and de-membraned, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
2 or 3 anchovies, finely chopped
handful black olives, stoned and roughly chopped
tbs capers
parmesan
While the pasta's cooking, do all your chopping. Drain the pasta, then return the empty pan to the heat with a good slug of olive oil, the chilli, garlic, and anchovies, and leave for 30 seconds or so. Tip the pasta back in, adding all the other ingredients except the parmesan, which you want to grate generously over the top once it's in your bowl.
Green bean, parma ham
75g pasta (tagliatelle or other long pasta best here)
80g green beans, tops trimmed off
3 or 4 slices parma ham (or cheaper proscuitto, if you like...)
tbs creme fraiche
parmesan
Start the pasta cooking, and, when it only has 5 minutes left, add the green beans to the water. Tear the parma ham into long strips. Drain the pasta and beans, and combine with the ham and creme fraiche, grating parmesan over once it's in your bowl.
*Actually, this post was inspired/requested by my sister, who is in a relationship and yet still has a hectic social life. Far too much simultaneous cake having and cake eating going on there for my liking.
Tomatoes, Ricotta, Basil
75g pasta (fusilli, penne, etc best here)
60g cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
3 tbs ricotta cheese
large handful basil, roughly chopped
Cook pasta; drain and stir in the tomatoes, a drizzle of olive oil, and a good pinch or two of salt. Add the ricotta in teaspoonfuls, then the basil, and stir lightly to combine.
NB. I'll never normally add salt to food, but the tomatoes and the ricotta in this recipe both really need it, so do be generous.
Fresh Tart
This is an instant, fresher, version of a classic recipe called Pasta Puttanesca, or Tart's Pasta (for the original, see Delia).
75g pasta (whichever you like)
60g cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered
1 red chilli, de-seeded and de-membraned, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
2 or 3 anchovies, finely chopped
handful black olives, stoned and roughly chopped
tbs capers
parmesan
While the pasta's cooking, do all your chopping. Drain the pasta, then return the empty pan to the heat with a good slug of olive oil, the chilli, garlic, and anchovies, and leave for 30 seconds or so. Tip the pasta back in, adding all the other ingredients except the parmesan, which you want to grate generously over the top once it's in your bowl.
Green bean, parma ham
75g pasta (tagliatelle or other long pasta best here)
80g green beans, tops trimmed off
3 or 4 slices parma ham (or cheaper proscuitto, if you like...)
tbs creme fraiche
parmesan
Start the pasta cooking, and, when it only has 5 minutes left, add the green beans to the water. Tear the parma ham into long strips. Drain the pasta and beans, and combine with the ham and creme fraiche, grating parmesan over once it's in your bowl.
*Actually, this post was inspired/requested by my sister, who is in a relationship and yet still has a hectic social life. Far too much simultaneous cake having and cake eating going on there for my liking.
Wednesday 21 July 2010
A night at the opera
Growing up, I fell into the habit of hosting large dinner parties (say, 8-14 people) for a group of friends. Hosted each time by a different person (or, more accurately, by their astonishingly trusting parents), cooking three course meals in an unfamiliar kitchen for big groups of people whilst getting extremely drunk as only 17-year-olds with no fear of hangovers exhilarated me so much I convinced myself I wanted to be a professional chef when I left university.
Of course, I never did, and, now living in a small one-bed flat, I simply don't have the space to cook for such parties. So when I spotted an opportunity to cook a picnic for 9 friends (and one sister), I jumped at it. We were all off to the lovely Grange Park Opera, where we had hired an Indian pavilion, and purchased vast quantities of champagne, so the food had to live up to its surroundings. I decided to cook a selection of mostly middle-eastern-y food, so people could pick and choose the bits they like, and took an afternoon off work to cook. Here's the recipes (and some pictures, with thanks to @simonabond):
Spanakopitta
When I tweeted that I was making this, it was the one that got the strangest looks. I've been cooking it for years, but for those of you who've never heard of it, it's basically a spinach and feta cheese pie. These quantities made enough for a small slice for 10 people, so if you're catering for a slightly smaller group, I'd suggest halving all the amounts except the pastry, which should make three generous or four slightly less generous dinner portions.
1 onion, sliced
400g spinach
1 supermarket-sized bunch spring onions, chopped
2 tsp dried dill, or 2 tbs fresh dill
400g feta, chopped
150g cottage cheese
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
4 eggs
6 sheets filo pastry
2 tbs butter, melted
In a pan much larger than initially seems necessary, and one to which you have a lid, fry the normal onion (not the spring ones) in a little oil for 5 mins or until softened. Wash your spinach, and then pack into the pan, clamp on the lid, and leave to steam in it's own juices: give it 3 minutes initially, and then shake/stir to move the uncooked leaves to the bottom of the pan, and give it another 3 minutes. Drain off any excess water and leave to cool a little
Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl, combine the spring onions, dill, cheeses, nutmeg, and eggs. Once the spinach/onion mix has cooled enough that it won't cook the eggs, stir this in and mix well.
Now take a baking dish approx. 20cm diameter, and butter it lightly. Layer four sheets of your filo pastry in the bottom of the dish, brushing with plenty of melted butter between the sheets, and leaving some edges falling out of the dish. Tip in your filling mixture, level out, and lay the two remaining sheets of pastry on top, again, brushing with plenty of butter. Roll
the edges of the bottom and top sheets together to seal the filling in, and then bake at 200 celsius for 30-40 minutes. Leave to cool slightly before slicing.
Tabbouleh
Despite the efforts of (seemingly) every TV chef and food writer out there, most people still think of this as a rather stodgy salad, with the bulghar wheat (or cous cous, as I'm about to irreligiously use here) being the predominant ingredient. It isn't: it is basically a herb salad with a few extra bits in. Same note on quantities as before: halve these to produce a decent side-salad for 4 people. The slightly funny herb weights are because these are multiples of what they are usually sold as in supermarkets.
160g cous cous (I use it because it's what I always have in the house, use bulghar wheat if you want to be proper)
160g parsley
80g mint
4 tomatoes
1/2 cucumber
5 or so spring onions
2 lemons
drizzle of olive oil
2 little gem or cos lettuces
Juice the lemons, and stir into the cous cous. Chop the tomatoes (I make 24 cubes per tomato, which means quartering each fruit, then cutting each quarter into half lengthways and into three widthways, but you could go larger if you liked), and also mix with the cous cous, which will now start soaking up the lemon-y tomatoey juices and going all soft on you. Chop the cucumber by halving lengthways, scraping out the seeds, then cutting each into four long strips legthways, then cutting into little cubes. Finely slice the herbs - don't chop them, as this will bruise them and give you a soggier salad (HT Claudia Roden). Finely slice the spring onions. Combine all, and drizzle with just a little olive oil to make it all glossy and beautiful. Serve with the lettuce leaves as mini edible scoops.
Grilled aubergines with yoghurt dressing
This is a great side dish with any other grilled meat or fish. Always grill, rather than fry, aubergines: you can use much less oil, and the smokiness is an aubergine's best friend.
4 aubergines, sliced into rounds
Still quite a large quantity of olive oil
150g plain yoghurt (greek, for preference)
1 clove garlic, crushed
Pinch salt
A few tbs water
150g pine nuts
Brush each round of aubergine with oil, and place under the hottest grill your cooker can manage until each is very dark brown, turning and repeating for the other side.
Mix the yoghurt with a generous pinch of salt, the crushed garlic, and enough water to loosen it to an easily pourable consistency.
Toast the pine nuts in a dry frying pan until lightly browned all over.
Pour the yoghurt dressing over the aubergines and top with the pine nuts.
A hummus
This is a slightly drier and more chunky hummus than you're probably used to - I quite like the difference, but you can add significantly more oil/lemon juice/water and mix for longer if you like it smoother. This version is also pretty low-fat, for those of you who are into such things. Hummus is one of those recipes that you can very easily tweak to fit your tastes, so do add more tahini, lemon, or garlic, if you particularly like them. Just keep tasting and adding as required.
I cooked my own chickpeas from dried for this, removing all the skins, and I think it was worth it, but you can use a drained and rinsed 400g tin if you're in a rush.
250g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight
4 tbs tahini
3 cloves garlic
Juice of 2 lemons
1 tbs olive oil
50 ml water
Rinse the chickpeas, cover with water, and boil for 45 minutes or according to pack instructions, or until cooked and soft. Drain, place into a large bowl of cold water, and rub gently between your hands to loosen the outer skins, which should then float to the surface of the water, where you can safely remove them. You don't have to remove every single skin, but a little effort here will make a huge difference to the final quality of your hummus.
Place around 2/3 of the chickpeas into a food processor with all the other ingredients, and whizz till fairly smooth. Taste at this stage and add any more flavours, if needed, or more water. Add the remaining chickpeas, and blitz for a couple of seconds until they're incorporated but still a little chunky.
Extras
I served this with pitta breads, which I bought, and some grilled chicken, which I hope you don't need a recipe for.
The finished meal!
Of course, I never did, and, now living in a small one-bed flat, I simply don't have the space to cook for such parties. So when I spotted an opportunity to cook a picnic for 9 friends (and one sister), I jumped at it. We were all off to the lovely Grange Park Opera, where we had hired an Indian pavilion, and purchased vast quantities of champagne, so the food had to live up to its surroundings. I decided to cook a selection of mostly middle-eastern-y food, so people could pick and choose the bits they like, and took an afternoon off work to cook. Here's the recipes (and some pictures, with thanks to @simonabond):
Spanakopitta
When I tweeted that I was making this, it was the one that got the strangest looks. I've been cooking it for years, but for those of you who've never heard of it, it's basically a spinach and feta cheese pie. These quantities made enough for a small slice for 10 people, so if you're catering for a slightly smaller group, I'd suggest halving all the amounts except the pastry, which should make three generous or four slightly less generous dinner portions.
1 onion, sliced
400g spinach
1 supermarket-sized bunch spring onions, chopped
2 tsp dried dill, or 2 tbs fresh dill
400g feta, chopped
150g cottage cheese
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg
4 eggs
6 sheets filo pastry
2 tbs butter, melted
In a pan much larger than initially seems necessary, and one to which you have a lid, fry the normal onion (not the spring ones) in a little oil for 5 mins or until softened. Wash your spinach, and then pack into the pan, clamp on the lid, and leave to steam in it's own juices: give it 3 minutes initially, and then shake/stir to move the uncooked leaves to the bottom of the pan, and give it another 3 minutes. Drain off any excess water and leave to cool a little
Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl, combine the spring onions, dill, cheeses, nutmeg, and eggs. Once the spinach/onion mix has cooled enough that it won't cook the eggs, stir this in and mix well.
Now take a baking dish approx. 20cm diameter, and butter it lightly. Layer four sheets of your filo pastry in the bottom of the dish, brushing with plenty of melted butter between the sheets, and leaving some edges falling out of the dish. Tip in your filling mixture, level out, and lay the two remaining sheets of pastry on top, again, brushing with plenty of butter. Roll
the edges of the bottom and top sheets together to seal the filling in, and then bake at 200 celsius for 30-40 minutes. Leave to cool slightly before slicing.
Tabbouleh
Despite the efforts of (seemingly) every TV chef and food writer out there, most people still think of this as a rather stodgy salad, with the bulghar wheat (or cous cous, as I'm about to irreligiously use here) being the predominant ingredient. It isn't: it is basically a herb salad with a few extra bits in. Same note on quantities as before: halve these to produce a decent side-salad for 4 people. The slightly funny herb weights are because these are multiples of what they are usually sold as in supermarkets.
160g cous cous (I use it because it's what I always have in the house, use bulghar wheat if you want to be proper)
160g parsley
80g mint
4 tomatoes
1/2 cucumber
5 or so spring onions
2 lemons
drizzle of olive oil
2 little gem or cos lettuces
Juice the lemons, and stir into the cous cous. Chop the tomatoes (I make 24 cubes per tomato, which means quartering each fruit, then cutting each quarter into half lengthways and into three widthways, but you could go larger if you liked), and also mix with the cous cous, which will now start soaking up the lemon-y tomatoey juices and going all soft on you. Chop the cucumber by halving lengthways, scraping out the seeds, then cutting each into four long strips legthways, then cutting into little cubes. Finely slice the herbs - don't chop them, as this will bruise them and give you a soggier salad (HT Claudia Roden). Finely slice the spring onions. Combine all, and drizzle with just a little olive oil to make it all glossy and beautiful. Serve with the lettuce leaves as mini edible scoops.
Grilled aubergines with yoghurt dressing
This is a great side dish with any other grilled meat or fish. Always grill, rather than fry, aubergines: you can use much less oil, and the smokiness is an aubergine's best friend.
4 aubergines, sliced into rounds
Still quite a large quantity of olive oil
150g plain yoghurt (greek, for preference)
1 clove garlic, crushed
Pinch salt
A few tbs water
150g pine nuts
Brush each round of aubergine with oil, and place under the hottest grill your cooker can manage until each is very dark brown, turning and repeating for the other side.
Mix the yoghurt with a generous pinch of salt, the crushed garlic, and enough water to loosen it to an easily pourable consistency.
Toast the pine nuts in a dry frying pan until lightly browned all over.
Pour the yoghurt dressing over the aubergines and top with the pine nuts.
A hummus
This is a slightly drier and more chunky hummus than you're probably used to - I quite like the difference, but you can add significantly more oil/lemon juice/water and mix for longer if you like it smoother. This version is also pretty low-fat, for those of you who are into such things. Hummus is one of those recipes that you can very easily tweak to fit your tastes, so do add more tahini, lemon, or garlic, if you particularly like them. Just keep tasting and adding as required.
I cooked my own chickpeas from dried for this, removing all the skins, and I think it was worth it, but you can use a drained and rinsed 400g tin if you're in a rush.
250g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight
4 tbs tahini
3 cloves garlic
Juice of 2 lemons
1 tbs olive oil
50 ml water
Rinse the chickpeas, cover with water, and boil for 45 minutes or according to pack instructions, or until cooked and soft. Drain, place into a large bowl of cold water, and rub gently between your hands to loosen the outer skins, which should then float to the surface of the water, where you can safely remove them. You don't have to remove every single skin, but a little effort here will make a huge difference to the final quality of your hummus.
Place around 2/3 of the chickpeas into a food processor with all the other ingredients, and whizz till fairly smooth. Taste at this stage and add any more flavours, if needed, or more water. Add the remaining chickpeas, and blitz for a couple of seconds until they're incorporated but still a little chunky.
Extras
I served this with pitta breads, which I bought, and some grilled chicken, which I hope you don't need a recipe for.
The finished meal!
Monday 5 July 2010
Well, it's not like I'll be kissing anyone tonight...
There are certain things that are generally considered unacceptable when in a relationship. Eating half a bulb of garlic for dinner is probably one of them.
I spent the weekend at my parents' house, where the nearby town has an amazing farmers' market on the first Sunday of the month. I bought far too much for one person to consume in the next few days (two patty pan squashes, vast bunch of baby red carrots, vast bunch radishes, goat's cheese, three bulbs of fresh/wet garlic, one bulb smoked garlic, one pack of roasted garlic butter, one pot chilli-apple jelly, one loaf bread), so thought I'd better get started tonight. Here's what I did:
Roast carrots with garlic and feta
80g baby carrots, trimmed but left whole
1/2 bulb of wet garlic
80g or so feta
toast
Toss the carrots and garlic with a little oil and salt, then roast at 200 degrees for 20 minutes or until caramelised. Slice feta. Spread garlic over toast, and munch, happy in the knowledge that no-one's going to complain about your breath later.
I spent the weekend at my parents' house, where the nearby town has an amazing farmers' market on the first Sunday of the month. I bought far too much for one person to consume in the next few days (two patty pan squashes, vast bunch of baby red carrots, vast bunch radishes, goat's cheese, three bulbs of fresh/wet garlic, one bulb smoked garlic, one pack of roasted garlic butter, one pot chilli-apple jelly, one loaf bread), so thought I'd better get started tonight. Here's what I did:
Roast carrots with garlic and feta
80g baby carrots, trimmed but left whole
1/2 bulb of wet garlic
80g or so feta
toast
Toss the carrots and garlic with a little oil and salt, then roast at 200 degrees for 20 minutes or until caramelised. Slice feta. Spread garlic over toast, and munch, happy in the knowledge that no-one's going to complain about your breath later.
Thursday 10 June 2010
Tomorrow, the sun will come out.
There are some recipes that I can only cook when the weather is absolutely right for them. Salad Nicoise is one of them. I cooked this a couple of weeks ago, when the mercury was hitting thirty, but only just got round to blogging it. The weather's not so great right now, but sometimes you need a reminder that one day, the sun will come out again.
I got a letter in the post today confirming me as the sole tenant of my flat. I was going to have a glass of champagne to celebrate, but I appear to have run out (I'm not sure how I let myself get to such a parlous state), so you're getting this recipe to celebrate instead. You lucky things.
Don't even try making only one portion of this, btw. There's too many different ingredients and you'll only end up with a fridge of quarter-of-a-cucumber, half-a-tin-of-anchovies, etc etc. I suggest cooking one tuna steak, eating most of the salad with that, and having the leftovers for lunch the next day.
Veggies could probably make a decent salad by leaving out the tuna and replacing the anchovies with capers.
Katy's Salad Nicoise
5 or so average-sized new potatoes
handful (80g or so) green beans
100g or so cherry tomatoes
1/2 a cucumber
tin anchovies
handful black olives, pitted (you could be poncily authentic and use nicoise, but I prefer kalamata)
handful basil leaves
handful parsley
1 little gem (or similar) lettuce
1/2 red onion
tuna steak (around 100-150g, depending on personal hunger levels)
1 clove garlic
pinch sea salt
1 tsp dijon mustard
1 tbs white wine vinegar
3 tbs olive oil
Put the potatoes on to boil; when they're nearly ready stick the green beans in. Don't undercook them.
Whilst those veg are cooking, halve your cherry tomatoes, halve, de-seed, and slice your cucumber, finely chop your anchovies, roughly chop your herbs, tear up your leaves, and finely slice your red onion. Mix together.
Make the dressing by crushing the garlic and salt, then whisking them together with the mustard, vinegar, and oil. Add a little oil from your anchovies/olives if you like.
Once the veg are cooked, drain and cool slightly under a running tap. Thickly slice the potatoes, then mix the warm veg with the dressing, and then combine with the salad veg.
Put a griddle pan or frying pan on to heat, and brush your tuna steak with a little oil. Grill or fry for a minute or so each side. It will cook much faster than you expect.
Serve the tuna with the salad. And probably a glass of champagne on the side.
PS. Please don't actually serve champagne with this. The salad will slaughter it. A firm rose would be perfect.
I got a letter in the post today confirming me as the sole tenant of my flat. I was going to have a glass of champagne to celebrate, but I appear to have run out (I'm not sure how I let myself get to such a parlous state), so you're getting this recipe to celebrate instead. You lucky things.
Don't even try making only one portion of this, btw. There's too many different ingredients and you'll only end up with a fridge of quarter-of-a-cucumber, half-a-tin-of-anchovies, etc etc. I suggest cooking one tuna steak, eating most of the salad with that, and having the leftovers for lunch the next day.
Veggies could probably make a decent salad by leaving out the tuna and replacing the anchovies with capers.
Katy's Salad Nicoise
5 or so average-sized new potatoes
handful (80g or so) green beans
100g or so cherry tomatoes
1/2 a cucumber
tin anchovies
handful black olives, pitted (you could be poncily authentic and use nicoise, but I prefer kalamata)
handful basil leaves
handful parsley
1 little gem (or similar) lettuce
1/2 red onion
tuna steak (around 100-150g, depending on personal hunger levels)
1 clove garlic
pinch sea salt
1 tsp dijon mustard
1 tbs white wine vinegar
3 tbs olive oil
Put the potatoes on to boil; when they're nearly ready stick the green beans in. Don't undercook them.
Whilst those veg are cooking, halve your cherry tomatoes, halve, de-seed, and slice your cucumber, finely chop your anchovies, roughly chop your herbs, tear up your leaves, and finely slice your red onion. Mix together.
Make the dressing by crushing the garlic and salt, then whisking them together with the mustard, vinegar, and oil. Add a little oil from your anchovies/olives if you like.
Once the veg are cooked, drain and cool slightly under a running tap. Thickly slice the potatoes, then mix the warm veg with the dressing, and then combine with the salad veg.
Put a griddle pan or frying pan on to heat, and brush your tuna steak with a little oil. Grill or fry for a minute or so each side. It will cook much faster than you expect.
Serve the tuna with the salad. And probably a glass of champagne on the side.
PS. Please don't actually serve champagne with this. The salad will slaughter it. A firm rose would be perfect.
Saturday 22 May 2010
In a crabby mood
Sometimes cooking for just yourself can be tough.
Really, really tough.
There's so many yummy foods out there that come in two-person shaped packages.
Like crab. A dressed crab is about right for two people. It's far too much for just one person, right?
So I did an adapted version of this Good Food recipe. And ate the lot.
Tough. Really, really tough.
My crab and asparagus salad
1 dressed crab (around 150g total)
1 tbs mayonnaise
1/2 red chilli, finely chopped
juice 1/2 lemon
100-150g asparagus
50g watercress
Snap the woody ends off the asparagus, and boil for 4 minutes or until you can easily slide a knife into the thickest stem. Drain, then slice each stem into three.
Separate out the white and brown crab meat, and place the white to one side. Mix the brown meat with the mayo, chilli, and lemon juice, then toss the stem sections of the asparagus (but not the tips) in this dressing.
Arrange the watercress on the plate, pile the dressed asparagus in the middle, top with the tips, and then the white crab meat.
Enjoy. All on your own.
PS. Yes, dear readers, that is a *photo* you see there. It would seem that posting on a public blog about missing card readers is an excellent prompt for their return.
Really, really tough.
There's so many yummy foods out there that come in two-person shaped packages.
Like crab. A dressed crab is about right for two people. It's far too much for just one person, right?
So I did an adapted version of this Good Food recipe. And ate the lot.
Tough. Really, really tough.
My crab and asparagus salad
1 dressed crab (around 150g total)
1 tbs mayonnaise
1/2 red chilli, finely chopped
juice 1/2 lemon
100-150g asparagus
50g watercress
Snap the woody ends off the asparagus, and boil for 4 minutes or until you can easily slide a knife into the thickest stem. Drain, then slice each stem into three.
Separate out the white and brown crab meat, and place the white to one side. Mix the brown meat with the mayo, chilli, and lemon juice, then toss the stem sections of the asparagus (but not the tips) in this dressing.
Arrange the watercress on the plate, pile the dressed asparagus in the middle, top with the tips, and then the white crab meat.
Enjoy. All on your own.
PS. Yes, dear readers, that is a *photo* you see there. It would seem that posting on a public blog about missing card readers is an excellent prompt for their return.
Saturday 15 May 2010
Heaven is...
Sitting in an english country garden in the last of the late May sunshine, birds tweeting in the breaks between the songs on the Glee soundtrack, getting gently sozzled on gin at your parents' expense, and this for dinner:
Tagliatelle with Purple Sprouting Broccoli and Chorizo
Ingredients
75g tagliatelle
75g chorizo
75g purple sprouting broccoli (the thinner the better)
1 clove garlic, sliced
sherry
parmesan
Method
Stick your pasta on to boil, and, 5 minutes before it's done, put a frying pan on to heat up with a drop of oil in it. Chop the chorizo into very small cubes and fry for 3-4 minutes until it's released its oils and is getting crispy, then turn the heat down low and add the garlic and the PSB. Add a glug or two of sherry and scrape the pan to get any crispy burnt-on bits into the sauce. Drain the pasta, mix with the chorizo and PSB, then serve with a little parmesan grated over the top.
I made this with the very last of the PSB grown in my Mum's garden, but it would equally work well with the very first - you want the thinnest possible stems so that you can coil them round your fork with the tagliatelle.
You should probably also drink some sherry with this, but I'd mixed my second G&T before I thought of that.
Tagliatelle with Purple Sprouting Broccoli and Chorizo
Ingredients
75g tagliatelle
75g chorizo
75g purple sprouting broccoli (the thinner the better)
1 clove garlic, sliced
sherry
parmesan
Method
Stick your pasta on to boil, and, 5 minutes before it's done, put a frying pan on to heat up with a drop of oil in it. Chop the chorizo into very small cubes and fry for 3-4 minutes until it's released its oils and is getting crispy, then turn the heat down low and add the garlic and the PSB. Add a glug or two of sherry and scrape the pan to get any crispy burnt-on bits into the sauce. Drain the pasta, mix with the chorizo and PSB, then serve with a little parmesan grated over the top.
I made this with the very last of the PSB grown in my Mum's garden, but it would equally work well with the very first - you want the thinnest possible stems so that you can coil them round your fork with the tagliatelle.
You should probably also drink some sherry with this, but I'd mixed my second G&T before I thought of that.
Saturday 8 May 2010
A tarragon pesto, and two things to do with it
So... this is what I did with my leftover tarragon and parsley from the last blog. It won't make herbs last quite as long as freezing them, but this pesto should last at least a week in the fridge. I love making my own pesto - it's one of those stupidly easy things to do that makes food so much better - and this is a lovely new variation on the traditional basil flavour.
Ingredients
leaves from half a bunch of tarragon - around 2 tbs in total
leaves from half a bunch of parsley - ditto (don't use the stalks, they're too tough for pesto!)
2 cloves garlic
handful almonds
juice 1 lemon
6 or so tbs olive oil (use a decent one, you can taste the difference)
salt and pepper to taste
Stick everything in a food processor and blitz until very well combined, adding more olive oil to loosen the texture if needed.
Once you've got this quantity of pesto, here's a couple of ideas for it:
Tarragon Chicken Salad
This makes two or three lunch portions (depending on how hungry you are...). I've used green peppers as the veg here, but you could use cucumber or other left-over green veg such as peas, green beans or asparagus.
3 tbs tarragon pesto
cooled cooked rice - around 100g uncooked
cooked chicken breast, torn into little strips
1 green pepper, cut into little cubes
3 spring onions, finely sliced
3 tbs creme fraiche
Combine all your ingredients and munch!
Tarragon and Tuna Pasta
1 tbs tarragon pesto
small tin tuna, drained
75g fusilli
Cook your pasta according to the pack instructions and your own taste, then combine with the pesto and flaked tuna.
I've made both these, and have a tablespoon or so of pesto left... any other ideas for what to do with it?
Ingredients
leaves from half a bunch of tarragon - around 2 tbs in total
leaves from half a bunch of parsley - ditto (don't use the stalks, they're too tough for pesto!)
2 cloves garlic
handful almonds
juice 1 lemon
6 or so tbs olive oil (use a decent one, you can taste the difference)
salt and pepper to taste
Stick everything in a food processor and blitz until very well combined, adding more olive oil to loosen the texture if needed.
Once you've got this quantity of pesto, here's a couple of ideas for it:
Tarragon Chicken Salad
This makes two or three lunch portions (depending on how hungry you are...). I've used green peppers as the veg here, but you could use cucumber or other left-over green veg such as peas, green beans or asparagus.
3 tbs tarragon pesto
cooled cooked rice - around 100g uncooked
cooked chicken breast, torn into little strips
1 green pepper, cut into little cubes
3 spring onions, finely sliced
3 tbs creme fraiche
Combine all your ingredients and munch!
Tarragon and Tuna Pasta
1 tbs tarragon pesto
small tin tuna, drained
75g fusilli
Cook your pasta according to the pack instructions and your own taste, then combine with the pesto and flaked tuna.
I've made both these, and have a tablespoon or so of pesto left... any other ideas for what to do with it?
Friday 30 April 2010
More asparagus...
Dinner tonight courtesy of the wonderful Mr Simon Hopkinson's Week In Week Out, probably the second most beautiful cookery book I own. Of course, just because it's beautiful doesn't mean I've ever cooked a single recipe from it before, so tonight was a bit of an experiment.
This is what I was aiming for: Asparagus, Sour Cream and Herb Omlettes. My first attempt resulted in a pile of slightly raw, slightly charred scrambled egg. Lesson: when it says non-stick pan, it means it. The next attempt resulted in an only slightly split omelette, spilling its insides across the plate, but by my fourth one, I got a perfect little swiss roll of soft omelette, tart cream, fragrant herbs and grassy crisp asparagus. Sometimes it's not just the simple recipes that make you happy.
Of course, making mini quantities just for me resulted in my now having, in the fridge, a large bunch of tarragon, one of chives, and one of parsley. So... what to do with them? I may have a little idea of my own - but you'll have to wait and see for that!
This is what I was aiming for: Asparagus, Sour Cream and Herb Omlettes. My first attempt resulted in a pile of slightly raw, slightly charred scrambled egg. Lesson: when it says non-stick pan, it means it. The next attempt resulted in an only slightly split omelette, spilling its insides across the plate, but by my fourth one, I got a perfect little swiss roll of soft omelette, tart cream, fragrant herbs and grassy crisp asparagus. Sometimes it's not just the simple recipes that make you happy.
Of course, making mini quantities just for me resulted in my now having, in the fridge, a large bunch of tarragon, one of chives, and one of parsley. So... what to do with them? I may have a little idea of my own - but you'll have to wait and see for that!
Saturday 24 April 2010
First asparagus
Nigel Slater reckons that 'only a prude can ignore the sexual overtones of asparagus officinalis.' Perhaps that explains my even-greater-than-usual desire to get my hands on the first of the British stuff this year. Although, seeing as Slater never seems to have met a piece of food he wouldn't like to fuck, perhaps we shouldn't take the psychoanalysis too far.
Anyway, here it is. Normally I just boil my first asparagus of the year and smother it in melting butter, but I had to eat a proper supper sometime, so this is the recipe I made. If you're using supermarket thin-cut water-pumped bacon, you'll need considerably more than the 6 rashers of thick-cut dry-cured butcher's bacon I used.
Ingredients
200g asparagus
6 rashers smoked streaky bacon
100g (ish) cherry tomatoes
Method
Heat your oven to 200 celsius and get a baking tray out of the cupboard. Snap any woody ends off the asparagus and drizzle with a little oil. Cut each rasher of bacon into two, and roll up, then snuggle them among the asparagus. Place in the oven for 10 minutes.
Take them out after this time and scatter the tomatoes among the spears and bacon. If the tips of the asparagus look like they might be burning, rearrange the bacon to cover them. Return to the over for a further 5 minutes or so.
Munch with plenty of crusty bread to soak up any juices.
No picture, this time because I munched so fast I didn't have time to take any. I burnt my mouth as a result, so I've already been punished for this sin.
PS. Sorry about the Slater quip. I love him and his cooking very much, but the food/fuck alliteration was too good not to say.
2011 edit
I always make this recipe at least once a year, and last night was the night this year. I am one of those people who are simply incapable of following a recipe (yes, even one of my own), and so I had to have a bit of a tinker around the edges. I used thin slices of pancetta instead of traditional English thick-cut streaky bacon, and wrapped the slices around the tops of around half the asparagus (so, around 6 spears and slices out of 12 spears total).
The effect is gorgeous. Somehow, the pancetta traps the steam coming off the tips of asparagus, and they steam in their own juices to a melting softness, giving a lovely contrast with the crispy pancetta and grilled stalks.
Anyway, here it is. Normally I just boil my first asparagus of the year and smother it in melting butter, but I had to eat a proper supper sometime, so this is the recipe I made. If you're using supermarket thin-cut water-pumped bacon, you'll need considerably more than the 6 rashers of thick-cut dry-cured butcher's bacon I used.
Ingredients
200g asparagus
6 rashers smoked streaky bacon
100g (ish) cherry tomatoes
Method
Heat your oven to 200 celsius and get a baking tray out of the cupboard. Snap any woody ends off the asparagus and drizzle with a little oil. Cut each rasher of bacon into two, and roll up, then snuggle them among the asparagus. Place in the oven for 10 minutes.
Take them out after this time and scatter the tomatoes among the spears and bacon. If the tips of the asparagus look like they might be burning, rearrange the bacon to cover them. Return to the over for a further 5 minutes or so.
Munch with plenty of crusty bread to soak up any juices.
No picture, this time because I munched so fast I didn't have time to take any. I burnt my mouth as a result, so I've already been punished for this sin.
PS. Sorry about the Slater quip. I love him and his cooking very much, but the food/fuck alliteration was too good not to say.
2011 edit
I always make this recipe at least once a year, and last night was the night this year. I am one of those people who are simply incapable of following a recipe (yes, even one of my own), and so I had to have a bit of a tinker around the edges. I used thin slices of pancetta instead of traditional English thick-cut streaky bacon, and wrapped the slices around the tops of around half the asparagus (so, around 6 spears and slices out of 12 spears total).
The effect is gorgeous. Somehow, the pancetta traps the steam coming off the tips of asparagus, and they steam in their own juices to a melting softness, giving a lovely contrast with the crispy pancetta and grilled stalks.
Monday 19 April 2010
Partridge with peas
One of the big problems I have with cooking just for me is that so much meat comes in packages for two. Even shopping at my local butcher doesn't totally solve this; roasting a whole chicken for one person still seems silly (and faintly depressing...), and despite cravings for the sticky bits that lurk under the wings, I can rarely bring myself to do it. The great thing about game birds is that so many of them come in neat little whole-bird packages for one, complete with mini-drumsticks to chew on. They're also much faster to cook - I made this as a quick after-work Monday supper, on the table in 30 minutes.
I used partridge because that's what I had in the fridge, but you could equally do the peas with pigeon, a couple of quail, or most other poultry or game birds.
Ingredients
1 partridge
4-6 spring onions
few sprigs of mint
few sprigs of parsley
80g peas
2 or 3 slices parma ham
half a glass of white wine
Method
First, get your partridge on to roast: heat the oven to 200 celsius, rub the bird with oil and season, then stick it in for 30 minutes or so.
Whilst that's happily cooking away, slice your spring onions (not too finely; they're going to be cooked well so you don't want them to disintegrate totally), chop your herbs (more finely) and tear your parma ham into little strips.
When the partridge has 10 minutes to go, fry the spring onions briefly in a decent glug of oil, then tip in the peas and wine and boil fairly vigorously until reduced by half. Take off the heat and stir in the herbs and parma ham, then stick a lid on it to keep warm whilst you carve the partridge.
By now your partridge should be ready, so take it out of the oven and leave to rest for a couple of minutes before carving it, then dish up with the peas, pouring the winey herby juices over the meat.
PS. Apologies to Josh, who persuaded me to start this blog, but due to his veggie-ness can't eat my first posting. Sorry Josh. More vegetables soon, I promise.
PPS. No photos. I took lots of lovely ones, but it turns out my ex has run off with the memory card reader, so I have no way of getting them to you. As with the vegetables, more soon, I promise.
I used partridge because that's what I had in the fridge, but you could equally do the peas with pigeon, a couple of quail, or most other poultry or game birds.
Ingredients
1 partridge
4-6 spring onions
few sprigs of mint
few sprigs of parsley
80g peas
2 or 3 slices parma ham
half a glass of white wine
Method
First, get your partridge on to roast: heat the oven to 200 celsius, rub the bird with oil and season, then stick it in for 30 minutes or so.
Whilst that's happily cooking away, slice your spring onions (not too finely; they're going to be cooked well so you don't want them to disintegrate totally), chop your herbs (more finely) and tear your parma ham into little strips.
When the partridge has 10 minutes to go, fry the spring onions briefly in a decent glug of oil, then tip in the peas and wine and boil fairly vigorously until reduced by half. Take off the heat and stir in the herbs and parma ham, then stick a lid on it to keep warm whilst you carve the partridge.
By now your partridge should be ready, so take it out of the oven and leave to rest for a couple of minutes before carving it, then dish up with the peas, pouring the winey herby juices over the meat.
PS. Apologies to Josh, who persuaded me to start this blog, but due to his veggie-ness can't eat my first posting. Sorry Josh. More vegetables soon, I promise.
PPS. No photos. I took lots of lovely ones, but it turns out my ex has run off with the memory card reader, so I have no way of getting them to you. As with the vegetables, more soon, I promise.
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