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!

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.