Food for Hipsters

Last weekend, I went to my local independent record store and bought an Record Store Day exclusive single (in see-through vinyl, natch) from a singer recommended to me by Vogue. I caught myself admiring someone's skinny red trousers in a meeting a fortnight ago. I've used a moleskine as my notebook-of-choice for some years. And after that vinyl-purchasing episode, I went to my local farmers' market and bought local vegetables you won't have heard of.

It's just about enough to make me qualify for hipster-status.

As I'm close, I may as well go all the way and cook some hipster food. Here are two great, quick pasta suppers (are we allowed to say supper now that David Cameron has used it? Should I call it tea instead?) which are sufficiently "authentic" and obscure to impress even those friends who possess no clothes other than checked shirts. Each serves two.


Smoked trout and sorrel


Smoked trout is just like smoked salmon, except without the complex ethical considerations (wild destroys stocks, farmed is diseased, organic is unethical behaviour towards my wallet). At least, the stuff I bought at my local farmers' market is. I can't promise anything if you shop at Tesco. Sorrel is a lemony-flavoured version of spinach, so in dire straits you can use spinach instead and add the juice of half a lemon to the sauce.

This would also be great with another hipster ingredient, a handful of wild garlic, added at the same time as the sorrel. Just don't mention that your "foraging" of it consisted of a stroll to the end of Mummy and Daddy's garden.*

150g pasta
120g cold-smoked trout
two large handfuls sorrel leaves
200ml tub creme fraiche

Put the pasta on to boil. Very roughly chop the trout into ribbons, and the sorrel likewise. Once the pasta is cooked, drain and combine all the ingredients.

*It was raining, ok? And cold. I had to wear a raincoat in a non-ironic way. If that doesn't qualify as foraging, what does?

'Nduja and PSB

This is great because it contains one ingredient which no-one will have heard of, and one which has an abbreviated codename. 'Nduja is a spicy salami, created so soft that it is spreadable and melts when heated. You can bring some back from your agroturismo week in Calabria, or in emergencies you can get it from Ocado. Chorizo would give you the same flavour, but a totally different texture. 

Purple Sprouting Broccoli has a higher proportion of stem to fluff than normal broccoli, so is ideal for pasta dishes where you need some structure to your vegetables. It's also one of the first British vegetables to come into season each spring, so do go out and buy some rather than shipping Tenderstem (TM) in from Spain or wherever.

150g pasta (wholewheat works well here)

1 onion

120g 'nduja

200g purple sprouting broccoli

2 tbs double cream

Put the pasta on to boil, and finely chop the onion. Saute the onion in a decent amount of oil until it softens and starts to brown. Cut each purple sprouting stem in half, and halfway through the pasta cooking time, add it to the water. Just before the pasta and purple sprouting is done, add the 'nduja to the onion pan and leave to melt in the heat, giving it a squish with a spoon to encourage it. 

Drain the pasta and purple sprouting, add to the onion/'nduja pan, and drizzle over the cream. Stir well to combine. 

PS. For a really awesome take-down of the latest foodie trends (minus any actually quite tasty recipes), see this press release for a new restaurant on twitter.

Pasta Primavera

The cherry blossoms on the tree outside my house lasted about three days before being destroyed by hail on Saturday. I shouldn't be so depressed; we've already eaten Sunday lunch outside twice this year; the sun is high enough that I've squeezed a post-work G&T into the tiny terrace outside the back door, and on Sunday I somehow fitted a coffee and croissant into the light between the showers.

I've also been enjoying the first spring vegetables, sprouting broccoli and asparagus in particular. And, as ever in the single kitchen, there have been leftovers lurking in the bottom of my fridge for the last week. I had been out after work and hadn't shopped for dinner, so with no other supplies in, pasta primavera it was.

I have to confess that, until I started writing this post, I had no idea that "pasta primavera" was an American invention of the seventies rather than a centuries-old Italian tradition. Minus 10 foodie points. I like to think that this is a bit closer to something you'd eat in Italy - no cream and cornflour, no marinara sauce and herbes de provence, no Philly... just some very lightly cooked vegetables and a little pancetta for seasoning. I also added a chargrilled artichoke from a jar (because I had one in the fridge) and a handful of chopped parsley (ditto), but feel free to ignore these.


Pasta Primavera


75g short pasta (fusilli, penne, etc)
3 stalks asparagus
3 (large) stalks sprouting broccoli, or 6 very weedy stalks
50g frozen peas
50g pancetta
1 or 2 chargrilled jarred artichokes, cut up a bit
handful parsley, chopped

Bring a large pan of water to the boil, and throw in the pasta. Chop up the pancetta into little bits and fry with a drop or two of oil until crispy.

Chop the asparagus and broccoli into pieces roughly the same size as your pasta; once the pasta is two minutes from being cooked throw in the asparagus, broccoli, and frozen peas.

Once cooked, drain the pasta and vegetables and toss with the pancetta and its oil, the artichokes and a spoonful or so of their oil, and the parsley. It shouldn't need any seasoning, but you can grate a little parmesan over if you like.

Eat, convincing yourself that it isn't drizzling outside.

Asparagus Stuffed Pancakes

Public service announcement: don't try making pancakes with rye flour. Utter disaster. Apparently, its gluten is less elastic than wheat flour, and, also, the bran has a seemingly infinite capacity to absorb liquid. I imagine the same applies to other types of wholewheat flour, though if anyone has succeeded, do let me know.

So, given that disaster, I was quite pleased with tonight's dinner. It was inspired by a recipe I've blogged about before, except with added starch and melted cheese to compensate my body for the hail today.

I made it for two, but the quantities beneath are for one, and you have the added advantage that this gives you an excuse to buy a cute little individual baking dish to both cook and serve it in. Two-purpose cookware: this is basically saving money, not spending it. Additional savings are made on the water and Fairy liquid you would have had to use to wash up a baking dish *and* a plate.

The quantities for the pancakes will make more than you need, but I fail to see "spare pancakes" as a problem.


Asparagus stuffed pancakes


For the pancakes:
125 g plain *white* flour
1 egg
300 ml milk

For the stuffing:
100 ml full-fat creme fraiche (you're baking it, so this isn't the time to be healthy. Unless you want curdled pancakes.)
15 g parsley
10 g dill
10 g chives
1 tsp dijon mustard

4 thick (or 6 skinny?) spears of asparagus
a grating of gruyere, or parmesan, or just cheddar. Or whatever.

Start by making the pancake batter: tip the flour into a large bowl, make a dip in the middle, and crack in the egg. Whisk it gradually in, adding the milk gradually as the mixture gets too thick to whisk. Place to one side to rest.

Steam the asparagus for 2-4 minutes, depending on their thickness. The best way of doing this is to lay them down in a frying pan (to which you have a lid), cover with water, and bring to the boil. Turn the heat off when the spears give way to a knife slid into them, and leave them to cool.

Whilst the asparagus is getting touchable, fry your pancakes. You know how to fry a pancake, right? Tip them onto a flat chopping board and leave until they, too, are touchable.

In the meantime, finely chop your herbs and stir them, and the mustard, into the creme fraiche. Taste for seasoning; you may like to add more mustard, or more of one of the herbs.

It's then an assembly job. Spread a pancake with a thick layer of herby creme fraiche, then pop two (or three) spears of asparagus in the middle. It's best if you put them top to tail, so each slice of pancake contains a bit of thick spear and a bit of soft tip. Roll the pancakes up, and place into a lightly greased baking dish. Grate your cheese over the top, then pop into a hot oven for 10 - 15 minutes, or until the creme fraiche is bubbling out and the cheese is golden.


Good with a leafy salad (I used watercress and spinach with a lemon dressing).