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23 April 2005: Ahh, lunch
Above behold today's delicious lunch, combined product of my housewifely foresightedness and my ability to detect the proximity of good food stores even when driving around Dublin at top speed and deciphering a map at the same time. The foresight consisted of spotting on Thursday night that the branch of baby plum tomatoes sitting on the bench were approaching overripe, and that if I slow-roasted them that evening they could be put away for the weekend. I halved the tomatoes, tossed them with olive oil, sea salt and a little pepper, spread them out on a tray, and put them in a very slow oven, then promptly forgot all about them. Fortunately a few hours later I stopped by the kitchen for a glass of water before going to bed, to spot that (a) the tomatoes were still cooking in the oven and (b) they had just reached perfection. My intial plan was to have the tomatoes with poached eggs and toast for brunch today, but I wasn't feeling quite that chipper this morning, and so muesli it was. We then bundled up (still freezing and wet, hellooooo, spring?), to zip around Dublin by car doing various chores. It was while we were heading along South Circular Rd in search of the Habitat warehouse that my foodar (much more useful than gaydar, in most circumstances) kicked in and I whipped my attention away from the map for 15 milliseconds, just long enough to register that we were passing a tiny shop with the words "Halal meats, Indian spices" stencilled on the window. Score. 
Half an hour later we were back, checking out what was actually two shops, at the corner of South Circular and Donore Ave. They were a most excellent discovery. For under 20 euro we eventually emerged with 500 g each of split urid, washed moong, split moong and chana dals, and kala channa; amchoor powder, which I have been searching for for ages, felafel mix, couscous, half a dozen cans of chickpeas and kidney beans, a jar of capers, gunpowder green tea and a loaf of round, puffy flatbread about a foot in diameter. I was so pleased with myself. This odious self-satisfaction only continued once we got home, put together a cucumber and mint raita, heated up the flatbread in the oven, and sat down to lunch. The bread was chewy, moist but not heavy, simply a perfect example of its kind, and did a fantastic job of mopping up the roasted tomato juice. I love it when my manifold talents come together. Comments (1) | Permalink21 April 2005: Spiced burgul salad 
Continuing with the festival of flat-leaf parsley recipes, here's a warm salad of burgul, chick peas, pine nuts, spices and fresh herbs, adapted from Zest by Michele Cranston. Annoyingly, the photo in the recipe book is pretty misleading, showing the salad looking all suave and spice-toned, rather than the more colourful version you see above. Never mind - colour's a good thing! It just wasn't quite what I was expecting. This salad tastes great, though, and does well for lunch the next day, too, if you have leftovers.
Toast the burgul in a frypan over medium heat for a few minutes, stirring, until it is turning golden and you can hear a gentle popping when you put your ear near the pan. (This step is optional if you can't be bothered, but it makes the burgul taste a bit nuttier.) Tip it into a bowl and add 250 ml (1 cup) of boiling water, and set aside. Heat the olive oil in the frypan over medium heat, and add the onions, cinnamon, cardamom, allspice and ginger. Cook, stirring, until the onion is soft. Add the onion mixture, celery, chilli, chickpeas, sultanas, pine nuts and most of the herbs to the burgul mixture, which should be softened by now. Season with salt and pepper, and fold everything together. Serve with the remaining herbs scattered on top. Serves 4-6 as a side dish. Comments (3) | Permalink 19 April 2005: Leek and chickpea soup 
My image of myself as a competent cook has taken a bit of a battering recently. I haven't cooked anything particularly abysmal; I just haven't really been properly cooking. There have been lots of dinners of pasta with jars of premade sauce - tasty organic sauce, but premade all the same. It doesn't really feed the heart. There are lots of reasons for my slackness. I didn't unpack my cookbooks until a couple of weeks ago; I'm still working out a schedule at uni; but most importantly, the Tesco I pass on my way home each day has one of the most depressing selections of fresh produce I've ever had to rely on. It got to the stage that I found myself thinking as I approached it, They'll have decent peppers as always, but I can't face peppers for dinner yet again tonight, and if I have to seriously contemplate buying those wrinkly courgettes I am really going to top myself... and walking right on past, on the way to making another dinner of spaghetti with jar sauce. This weekend it all came to a head with me lying on the carpet at home whimpering about not being able to think of anything to cook that didn't require flat-leaf parsley, which I couldn't get anywhere (except the Temple Bar market and I was way too busy having a meltdown to walk there before it closed for the day). Fortunately Ted, with his years of experience in Meg-wrangling, managed to jimmy me off the floor and into the car and thus to Superquinns at Blackrock, where we found, hallelujah, flat leaf parsley and various other good things. There has subsequently been a festival of cooking involving flat-leaf parsley, all to be blogged. First up: leek, chickpea and saffron (and FLP) soup, eaten with a toasted sandwich of tallegio and a nutty but mild danish cheese whose name I have forgotten. Perfect lunch on a wet, cold and windy Sunday.
Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan, then add the leeks, carrot and saffron and cook over medium heat, stirring, until the leeks are tender and translucent. Add the strips of lemon zest, the stock and the chickpeas, bring to a simmer, then cook gently for about 10 minutes. Add the parsley and cook 5 minutes more. Season well with salt and pepper. Serves 4 for lunch, with bread. Comments (4) | Permalink 4 April 2005: Spring in the step 
How lovely is life? It was a sharp clear day on Saturday for the market, sunshine striking the big bunches of skinny sap-green asparagus, which increased my happiness levels by - oh, about 500% percent. Today I left work at 5 and came home to steam that asparagus and eat it with a risotto of fresh porcini, also the fruit of Saturday's financially extravagant but highly enjoyable marketing. Now drinking the tail end of a bottle of Burgundy brought home from the wine-tasting course which started this evening (tickets bought as a birthday present for Ted), listening to the eponymous album of the silver-haired, foxy and stylish David Byrne, and finishing off revisions to a manuscript returned from Proc Roy Soc. Shortly going to bed, made up with crisp, clean sheets, to spend half an hour reading one or other of the books I've got going, before falling asleep flush with contentment. Comments (0) | Permalink |
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