recipe and cooking video

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Gravy

It is 1am and I am lying on the single bed in the nursery staring at the ceiling, listening to Kitty's shallow breathing in the cot next to me. She has just fallen asleep.

She is very ill. Strep throat, a doctor will say two days later. She was boiling - boiling - to the touch with fever when I arrived at her bedside. I got myself ready to adminster some life-saving Nurofen but she didn't want it - gagged and vomited a little bit down herself in protest. So I jammed as much in her mouth as I could, changed her pukey sleeping back, walked her round, waited for her to nod off and then lay down braced for a sleepless night listening to her whimper.

It's a terrible noise, a baby whimpering in its sleep.

And as I lay there in the dark listening to the whimpering and to the nursery clock ticking and the aircon whirring I thought for the first time in a long time "At least I'm not in Australia."

That is my thing, my "At least I'm not..." thing.

I ended up in Australia in the late summer of 2001. I went out with no clear idea of what I was going to do but my sister was out there for a year and I was bored, so I went. My sister was working in some snazzy bar and going out with a very posh Australian - yes they do, in fact, exist - called Jimmy. He was terrific, Jimmy - he was hilarious. Tall with dark hair and long dark eyelashes like a girl. He was always stealing his flatmates' food - usually dinky little take-out pots of spicy asian-fusion salads - late at night when drunk and peckish.

"Hmm..." he would say, his head in the fridge. "What's Polly got in here? A little snacky-snack for Jimmy before bedtime?"

Anyway you get the idea.

I couldn't stay in Sydney with them so I took off up the East Coast. It was boring. I had a shit time. There was one okay week where I worked on a cattle farm and I should have stayed there mucking out the horses and working in the bar, but I moved on in the wrong belief that there was more to see.

What happened instead was that I unwittingly became a thief.

It happened like this:

I was sitting about in some hostel or other with a girl who was going home soon. "Just going," she said "to have a quick rummage round lost property for some flip flops. Mine are broken."

"Is that a thing you do?"

"Yeah there's always great stuff in hostel lost properties. These Miss Sixties?" She said, pointing at her jeans. "Alice Springs. This bag...?" etc.

So off we went to the lost property box. There was nothing that fascinating except a shitty brown t-shirt with red Japanese writing on the front that I thought looked quite unusual. I tucked it under my arm and thought no more about it.

Three days later I was sitting in another dull, depressing hostel somewhere hot and crappy, wearing my scavanged t-shirt, and an angry Irish girl stormed up to me.

"Where did you get that t-shirt?" she demanded. "It was stolen out of my bag. Why have you got it?"

And here is where it went wrong. Why didn't I just say "Found it. Lost property in X. Is it yours? Have it back!!"?

I don't know why not. What I did say, however, was "My sister gave it to me."

Why did I say that? WHY?

Maybe I thought she wouldn't believe the story that I'd found it in lost property and scream "Thief!" at me. I can't be bothered to recount exactly what happened in the days that followed but it was nasty. The angry Irish girl and her friend accused me to everyone they could find of having stolen her t-shirt. And the Eastern Coast of Australia turns out to be a very small place. I somehow kept up with my lame story that it was mine.

They followed me up the coast for three days, telling everyone at every hostel that I was a thief. Hissing at me as they passed me that I was pathetic. Then one day the angry Irish girl's friend came up to me and said that they'd called the police. By then I had lost all sense of perspective and couldn't see that it was obviously total fucking rubbish. I'd had enough. I hadn't eaten for about three days or really slept. I am an anxious person, you see, and being accused of being a thief is something I can't really style out.

I went to my rucksack and took out the t-shirt. "If I give this to you," I said. "Do you promise to leave me alone and never speak to me again?"

I saw, on the girls' face, a flicker of doubt that she and her angry Irish friend were right.

"I'm not an arsehole, you know," she said.

"Sure," I said, and handed her the t-shirt.

Then that night, in the middle of the night, I split. I took a taxi to a hostel well off the beaten tourist path, filled with cattle station hands and middle-aged women travelling cross-country to see newborns. And that was that.

It's bothered me for years, that incident - although with hindsight I didn't really do anything that bad. Just really thick. But still, I have never told anyone that story. Not. A. Soul.

(A week later I arrived back in Sydney and went straight out and got a tattoo. I've always wondered if the two things are connected.)

The day before I flew back to London the twin towers collapsed. (It was interesting getting on an international flight via the Middle East on 12/09/01, I tell you.) Then about three years later, Jimmy killed himself. I won't go into how. And I simply don't know why. Oh, and someone gave me fucking chlamydia.

So that's why however crumby things are, I'm glad I'm not in Australia.

Although I think I am one of the few people to have enjoyed the film.

I have newly fallen back in love with my husband. Not that I was ever out of love with him but in the last few days I have been crawling around after him screaming "I love you! I worship you! Please marry me!"

The thing is, he comes into his own when there's something wrong with the baby and I am simply vomiting in a corner with anxiety, ringing NHS Direct and crying. My husband takes charge, shooes me out of the nursery, won't let me near the baby monitor and makes me dinner.

All we had in the house was some beef, which he decided to roast - "Although I know we're not celebrating or anything," he said. "I know we're all in mourning because Kitty's got a cough."

And he wanted to make a gravy to go with it.

Gravy is something that can appear daunting but actually it's okay if you give yourself a bit of time.

For gravy, you need:

1 The pan that something has roasted in

2 Some shitty alcohol (even this is optional, really)

3 Some flour or cornflour

4 Some stock or vegetable cooking water

Roughly to make a gravy, take the roasting pan and "de-glaze" with shitty cooking wine. This means you place the pan over a medium flame and pour in some alcohol, about half a wine-glass full I'd say. Then you scrape at the pan and get all the roasty bits and sticky bits off the bottom.

Then reduce this until it becomes glossy-ish round the edges. Reduce the heat and take the pan off the flame. Sprinkle over some flour - about a tablespoon. With the pan off the heat, mush this all round until it is a paste.

Now add some of your liquid - either stock or some veg cooking water - to the pan still off the heat. Mix this round until vaguely combined.

Then put the pan back on the heat and add some more sloops of stock or cooking water. Simmer it briskly until it starts to thicken thanks to the flour.

Pour over your roast dinner.

Then take a Valium. Or three.

Minty Grated Raw Beet Salad and Beet Greens Stir-fry

Beets are delicious cooked or raw, in salads or soups, as an appetizer or a meatless main course with some couscous. This beet root salad recipe is really easy and tasty, and takes little time to prepare. The dark-green colored leaves with red tones are an excellent source of carotenoids, flavonoid anti-oxidants and vitamin A.

Minty Grated Raw Beet Salad

500 g Beets
3 tbsp Freshly squeezed orange juice
1 tbsp Freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 tbsp Extra virgin olive oil
2 tbsp Mint leaves, finely chopped
Salt to taste

Peel the beets with a vegetable peeler, and grate in a food processor fitted with the shredding blade. Finely chop the mint leaves.
Combine the orange juice, lemon juice and olive oil. Toss with the beets and chopped mint leaves. Season to taste with salt.
The raw beet salad can be served immediately or kept in the refrigerator, covered well, for a couple of days. It will soak up flavours and become more tender, yet stay crispy and crunchy. Toss again before serving.

Beet Greens Stir-fry with Shallot and Garlic

350 g Beet greens
2 tbsp Corn oil
1 Shallot, finely diced
1 clove Garlic, sliced
Sea salt
White pepper

Wash the greens in a sink filled with cold water. Drain greens and wash a second time. Drain greens and cut away any heavy stems. Tear the beet greens into 2 to 3 inch pieces. Set aside.
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add diced shallot and sliced garlic, cook 3to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add the beet greens to the skillet. Cook and stir until they are wilted and tender. Season with salt and pepper.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Walnut-Stuffed Chicken Roulades

A stuffed chicken breast roulade (or roll) with roasted walnuts, arugula and dried shiitake mushrooms that imparted a distinct, smoky flavours to the filling. Instead of breadcrumbs, use a mix of high-protein, low-gluten rye crackers and Vitamin E-rich walnuts by pulsing them together in a food processor to coat the chicken.

Recipe adapted from Whole Living

7 Thin, crisp rye crackers
40 g Chopped walnuts, toasted
2 tsp Extra-virgin olive oil
3 Garlic cloves, minced
1 Shallot, finely chopped
1 handful Dried shiitake mushroom caps, soaked and chopped
2/3 tbsp Fresh thyme, chopped
20 g Arugula, chopped
1 tbsp Stock or water
2 Boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, butterflied and pounded evenly
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper

Soak the dried shiitake mushroom caps in warm water for 20 minutes. Drain. Remove the stems and chop finely. Preheat oven to 190C/375F. Pulse crackers and 30 grams walnuts in a food processor until finely ground.
Heat oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Cook garlic and shallots until soft, about 4 minutes. Add chopped mushrooms and thyme, and cook until chopped mushrooms are slightly golden, about 5 minutes. Turn the heat off. M ix in chopped arugula, water and the remaining walnuts to skillet.
Season each chicken breast with 1/4 teaspoon salt and some pepper. Lay one chicken breast on a plate. Spread half mushroom-walnut mixture onto chicken, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around. Roll, and tie with kitchen twine. Cover with crumb mixture, pressing to coat. Repeat with another chicken breast, mushroom-walnut mixture, and crumbs. Transfer to a rimmed baking sheet, and bake until golden, about 30 minutes. Untie, and slice.

Nigella's mexican lasagne

I once read in a magazine - I forget which one now - a problem on the problem pages that went something like this:

Q. My husband refuses to pick his towel up off the bathroom floor. It drives me demented. How can I punish him?

A. Instead of wanting to punish him, why don't you think to yourself, as you pick the towel up off the bathroom floor, of all the nice things he does for you without you asking? It is little act of devotion like these that keep marriages going.

Here are some of the annoying things that my husband does:

- He doesn't pick up the bathmat off the bathroom floor

- He clears his throat in quite an annoying way

- He steals my car key because he can't be bothered to find his, then accuses me of having used, and lost his key (thus forcing him to use mine).

- He will turn to me and say "Shall I have a shower? Or not?"

- If the TV is on and he wants to say something, rather than finding the remote and pausing the programme he will shout "PAUSE!", which is my cue to find the remote (under his bum, usually) and pause the programme for him so he may deliver his opinion.

- He will suddenly decide that the house is a mess and pick things up randomly (an unopened letter, a pair of flip flops, a baby's toy) and say "What's the story with this? Should it be here?"

- He will walk into his own kitchen and wonder aloud where we keep the knives, forks, salt, pepper, plates and so on

Here are some of the annoying things that I do:

- I pick at my cuticles. Constantly.

- I clear my throat in a nice way. But I do it ALL the time

- I never open my post, particularly anything that looks financial

- I interrupt all the time.

- I give my husband death stares

- I am a sluttish washer-upper

- I call the baby "Kitty-Cookan-TIS"

- I sometimes only empty half of the dishwasher and then wander off to do something else and forget to unload the rest

- I throw money (his) at any problem

- I leave the area around the toaster a mess, attracting ants and wasps.

- I don't make the bed

Here are the nice things that my husband does for me:

- He doesn't make me go and get a job

- He does my tax

- He takes out all the bins and deals with the compost

- He sorts out the cars, the tax for the cars, the maintenence of the cars

- He doesn't make me see people I don't like

- He'll make any phonecall for me that I'm too scared to make

- He cleans all my hair out of the trap in the shower

Here are the nice things that I do for my husband:

- I hang up the bathmat

- I always make sure there is enough deodorant, shampoo, showergel etc in the bathroom

- Ditto for the kitchen

- Ditto stamps, birthday cards and wrapping paper

- I sort out dinner, pretty much every night

- I will fire anyone that he feels too guilty to fire

- I don't give him shit about going out and getting drunk

- I don't give him shit about his swearing or bad taste jokes

- I don't give him shit about doing more childcare

Whenever my husband has done something annoying and I feel enervated, I always run those lists through my head. It's what my marriage balances on, like a fat elephant on a plank of wood on a ballbearing. But a few years ago, I realised that my husband was NOT aware that there was this careful balancing act going on. He did not think, as he ignored my throat-clearing, cuticle-picking, death-staring grotesqueness, that he was simply keeping up his end of the bargain. He believed that he was bearing the brunt of marital irritation, while I sailed through life blithely un-irritated. One day, things exploded in a terrible row about me not making the bed.

I won't lie, there were tears.

Then I explained about the list. About the importance of acts of devotion. And he got it, more or less.

And that's why I'm always sorting out dinner; it's part of the deal. It's why I try to find new things to cook, rather than just doing a roast chicken or pasta over and over again. If it's going to be my area, I might as well having a big repertoire. It makes everything easier.

Which explains why I tried out this slightly weird Mexican Lasagne, by Nigella. I thought it looked fun. It is, like many Nigella recipes, not very subtle. And like everything that used canned tomatoes, it ends up tasting a lot like canned tomatoes. But it's a good one to have up your sleeve to pull out when things are getting a bit samey.

This is not Nigella's exact recipe but it is close enough. The exact one can be sourced easily on the internet.

Mexican lasagne

Serves 4 hungry people, or 6 less hungry, with a salad

1 pack flour tortillas

2 cans chopped tomatoes

1 can sweetcorn

1 can black beans

2 red chillies

1 large onion

2 cloves garlic

1 small bunch coriander

2 tsp mild chilli powder

salt

1 red pepper, roughly chopped, or a jar of peppers in oil, chopped

two big handfuls cheese - manchengo, monteray jack or cheddar

Preheat oven to 180

1 Chop the onion, garlic, chillies and red peppers and sweat in a pan with some veg oil for about four minutes, then sprinkle over the chilli powder and cook for a further 10 minutes over a low flame. Then add the tomatoes and chopped coriander and simmer for about 10 minutes.

2 In a separate pan put the black beans and the sweetcorn, heat up and mix around.

3 Now layer the tomato sauce, bean mix, grated cheese and flour tortillas (2 per layer) to make up a lasagne. I'll leave you to decide the best way of doing it, but it's good to finish off with a layer of tortillas and then cheese for a bubbly brown top.

4 Bung in the oven for 30 minutes.

You can eat this with yoghurt or guacamole or any other Mexicany-type thing you can think of, while you ponder the secrets of martial bliss.

action shot

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Potato and Chanterelle Salad and No-Recipe Salad

This is a wonderful and easy salad with potatoes, chanterelles, shallots and cilantro, that goes perfectly with any BBQ dishes, or even a light lunch all by itself. Bacon and goat cheese could be added to the salad to create a even more satisfying meal.

One no-recipe salad. Just throw anything you like and left in the fridge into a serving dish, and you have a salad you love. Serve it with a yoghurt dressing.

Potato and Chanterelle Salad

Adapted from Essen und Trinken

750 g Potatoes
Salt and freshly mulled black pepper
2 Shallots
200 g Chanterelles
1 tbsp Sunflower oil
2 tbsp Raspberry vinegar
150 ml Chicken bouillon
1 tbsp Cilantro, chopped

Place the potatoes and 1 tablespoon of salt in a large pot of water. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for about 18 minutes or until fork tender. Cool and peel. Cut potatoes into bite sized chunks or thin slices. Place the cut potatoes in a large bowl.
Finely dice the shallots. Rinse the chanterelles, drain and pat them dry to remove all excess liquid. Chop the large ones. Heat the oil in the pan over medium heat. Add shallots and stir for a minute. Stir in chanterelles and cook for 3 minute more. Remove and add the chanterelles to the potatoes.
Pour the vinegar and chicken bouillon into the same pan. Bring it to a boil. Pour into the salad. Toss well, cover, and set aside for 30 minutes to allow the flavours to blend. Mix in chopped cilantro. Taste with salt and pepper. Serve with grilled chicken or steak.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Blackberry and Hazelnut Muffins

They are simple to make, and they are moist, tender and packed with flavours. If you plan to use frozen berries, don't thaw them as it will stain the batter purple, and you may have to bake the muffins slightly longer than the stated time.

300 g Blackberries
100 g Hazelnuts, chopped
250 g All-purpose flour
3 tsp Baking powder
1/4 tsp Salt
2 Eggs
200 ml Buttermilk
150 g Brown sugar
130 g Butter, melted
50 ml Baileys
1/2 tbsp Vanilla sugar

Preheat the oven to 200C/400F. Prepare 15-17 muffin cups with paper liners. Place a small skillet over medium heat, add the chopped hazelnuts and toast until golden, stirring occassionally. Remove and cool.
Whisk together the 60 grams of roasted chopped hazelnuts, flour, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together eggs, buttermilk, brown sugar, butter and Baileys. Add the wet mixture to the dry mixture and mix together with a few light strokes, just until the dry ingredients are moistened. Gently fold in the fresh blackberries.
Mix the rest of roasted chopped hazelnuts and vanilla sugar in a small bowl. Divide the batter evenly among the muffin cups. Sprinkle the vanilla mixture on the top of each muffin. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the middle of 1 or 2 of the muffins comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes before removing from the pan.

I am sending this to Buttery Throwdown!- Blog Event and Giveaway hosted in Fun and Food Cafe.

Tofu curry

God I fucking hate summer so much.

I know I've said this before, but it's worth saying again. Hate, hate, hate. I would try and blame it on my parents somehow, in the way that I manage to blame everything else on them, but I think summer may be my problem.

Where did it all go wrong? We had pretty dreamy summers as children, I think. Big garden, swing, making mud pies, all that. It was in my teens that things took a turn for the bad.

I often thought that working might be a good idea before I learned that London in August is a cauldron of awfulness and every day that you are there you feel a bit self-conscious, like you really ought to be on holiday. I always felt that the city was looking at me in mild curiosity the way that people do when you go back to school after you've left sixth form. "What are you doing here? Why are you here?"

And nothing happens. It's so boooorring. Day after day of nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. If I do anything for my child it will be to send it to get tennis lessons, so it will have something to do in the summer. I have already started trying to make friends at Kentish Town city farm, so Kitty's got somewhere to go when I boot her out of the front door on summer holiday mornings, light a fag and shout "Don't come back til it's dark."

The only solution is to go away for as long as financially feasible in August. If that means staying in the UK, so be it. We went to France last year and were eaten alive by mosquitoes the size of kittens and rained on for 1 week solidly. So this year we are going to Sussex to see if anything happens there.

Now, don't laugh at me about this tofu curry. I haven't turned into a hippy, I was just curious about tofu. I have never cooked with it before and thought I ought to rectify this because I always eat it in Chinese restaurants and think it is nice. So the other night I made a tofu curry and it was really fantastic and I was very pleased with it.

If you've never cooked with tofu, don't be scared. The secret is prepping it. So you get a block of it in a packet (I used some by Cauldron from ... all together now... WAITROSE!), take it out, drain it, wrap it in kitchen towel and then press it between two chopping boards weighed down with something heavy [insert joke about my fat ass here].

I did this for 10 minutes, but I think next time I will do it for 20. It makes the tofu tighter and more likely to take on colour and texture when you fry it off, which you do in a pan with some oil in. It takes a while to fry off - about 20 minutes to do a really good job.

As with all veggie curries, this requires a lot of ingredients, but it is worth it. And it'll give you something to do to pass the time until summer's over.

Esther's tofu curry

For the curry paste

2cm knob fresh ginger

1 chilli, seeds in or out, up to you

1 tsp tamarind paste (don't worry if you haven't got it)

2tsp soy sauce

1 tsp fish sauce

2 kaffir lime leaves (if you have)

2 cloves garlic

2 spring onions

1 heaped tsp tomato puree

1/2 tsp runny honey

1/2 bunch coriander (if you have)

then,

1 block tofu

1 large can or two small of coconut milk

and any combination of

sugar snap peas

beansprouts

bamboo shoots

baby sweetcorn

baby pak choi

1 Prepare the tofu as described and chop into chunks. Put all ingedients for the curry paste in whatever manner of whizzing machine you possess and whizz.

2 Fry off the curry paste for about 5 minutes over a medium flame. Fry off the tofu, add to the curry paste and stir. Add the coconut milk and stir further, being careful not to mash up the tofu blocks. Let this simmer for a few minutes.

2 Drop in your other veg and let the whole lot simmer for 5 minutes. If you're using pak choi, put a lid on your pan to help it all steam.