Three is really the minimum number for a seriously successful picnic, I think. With only one or two people, the food choices are restricted: you can't really justify buying the olives and the peppers and the artichoke hearts. Of course, simplicity can be good, but there is a lot of pleasure to be had in sheer abundance. We went well over the borderline of abundance: not only the olives, peppers and artichoke hearts, but also marinated aubergine, goat's cheese, Comte cheese, avocado, rocket, cow-embossed butter, rye bread, plums, dates on the vine, and almonds. And wine of course. We ended up driving past the Seven Sisters to Beachy Head, and found a spot on the side of a steep grassy hill overlooking the very blue bay on the Eastbourne side of the headland. A very satisfying couple of hours followed. Why do we ever eat Sunday lunch at home? (Well, because it has been raining almost every weekend for the last three months, but otherwise, the question remains.) Then tonight, after we'd all had a very busy day, we had an easy and delicious dinner of the leftovers. Orrechiette tossed with the remains of the peppers and aubergines, with a little goat's cheese and sun dried tomato paste, and a rocket, cherry tomato and avocado salad. Ten minutes' preparation and so so good. Comments (disabled)
In our lab, the tradition is that the acceptance of a paper for publication is grounds for a cake. Home-made or bought, it is an excuse to get the whole group together to acknowldedge all that hard slog you've put in. Of course, some papers take more hard slog than others - the one that we had accepted this week had been an ongoing drama for over three years, slowed down by our move to the UK and changes in understanding of analysis methods. I've read so many drafts, the very sight of that manuscript could make me want to cry. I am so relieved that I will never have to read it again! So I made a cake to take in today. I wanted something spectacular to commemorate the end of this paper, but wasn't quite prepared to stay up all night making caramel lace or anything, so settled on a four-layer double chocolate cake, with chocolate frosting on the top, and cream and toasted almonds on the sides. It wasn't a particularly tricky recipe, and it came from the Women's Weekly Cakes and Slices book, which has the weight of a thousand Australian grandmothers behind it, so I started with no qualms. I was a little bit worried when I checked the cakes 5 minutes before they were due to be done, and it was obvious they were completely cooked. I've always previously found that, if a Women's Weekly cake or biscuit takes more than two minutes more or less than the time given in the recipe, it's time to buy an oven thermometer, because the fault will lie with your oven, not the recipe. But I just shrugged and turned the cakes out to cool, then started to make the filling. The recipe said to melt dark chocolate in a bowl over simmering water, then remove from heat, and stir in sour cream and then icing sugar. I've always understood that water, or dairy products which contain water, can either be added to melting chocolate right at the start of the process, or after it has cooled down - but not directly to hot chocolate. But I chastised myself for doubting Women's Weekly, and tipped the sour cream right into the hot chocolate. Of course, the chocolate siezed in moments, getting thick and grainy and looking exactly like a lovely oily tapenade. Lovely in any other, non-cake-associated circumstance, that is. Given the amount of water that had just gone in, there was no saving it. I beat in the icing sugar and then forced myself to taste it. The cognitive dissonance was severe: looks like tapenade, tastes like chocolate, ahhh, head explodes. I muttered bad swear words to myself but decided to use the stuff as filling anyway in the absence of another 300 g of chocolate in the cupboard. So slapped it together, left it overnight, iced it in the morning, and took it in with fingers crossed that the secret tapenade-like nature of the filling wouldn't be too obvious. And that part turned out to be fine - it had obviously been compressed between the layers enough to settle down and look like it should. But the cake itself was far too dry. Edible, but distinctly sandy. What the hell is going on with the world? Two problems with one Women's Weekly cake recipe? My certainties are crumbling. In the end though, it's almost appropriate given what we were celebrating. I planned to make a cake, and what I had at the other end was, no doubt, a cake - but lots of things went wrong along the way, and it made me cross, and the product at the end was not exactly something I wanted to show to company even though that was its purpose - really, in many respects, very much like this paper. Comments (disabled)
You could use a different combination of dals if you couldn't get all three, but I would try to use at least channa plus one other kind. The channa dal keeps its shape even after cooking, while the masoor and mung dal soften and almost dissolve, to lightly thicken the curry. I couldn't find any ripe fresh tomatoes, so drained a couple of tins of chopped tomatoes and used those instead. Knowing my penchant for lazily simplifying recipes each time I make them (sometimes an improvement, sometimes not) I tried the curry before adding the tempering, to see if it would be alright by itself. It was fine, but nothing compared to the final product. That last-minute addition of flavours balances and enhances the curry immeasurably. Don't skip it! Squash and aubergine dhansak
Put the three kinds of dal into a sieve and wash with running water until the water runs clear. Transfer the dal to a large saucepan, and add the 4.5 cups of water. Bring to the boil and skim all the white foam off. Add the ginger, garlic, garam masala, turmeric, cayenne pepper, cloves, bay leaves, chillies and salt and stir well. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes, stirring now and then. The dal should be tender, but not falling apart. Add the tomatoes, squash, aubergine, onion and spinach to the saucepan, along with 1.5 further cups of water. Return to the boil, reduce the heat, and simmer partly covered for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are tender. Remove from the heat. For the tempering, heat the ghee or oil in a medium skillet or pan over medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds, cover, and cook until they pop, about 1 minute. Add the chopped onion and the cumin and cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes, until the onion is well browned around the edges. Add the garlic and cook a few seconds, then stir in the coriander and lemon juice and stir, then remove from the heat. Add the tempering to the curry and stir well, then taste for seasoning. Serve hot with rice. Serves 6-8. Comments (disabled)
I'm thinking about using HaloScan to let people write comments on the blog. I am vaguely worried - what if I get overwhelmed with spammy "comments" linking to online casinos? What if people comment about how crap my cooking is? What if I get busy and don't respond to comments for a few days and people think I'm a snooty bitch? Endless traumas, as you can see. I think I will add the code in and see how it goes for a few weeks and then decide what to do. So comment away! Comments (disabled)
Still no actual cooking going on - I've been sick on and off for two weeks now, and was in Paris on the weekend. However, my consumption of six pastries and half a kilo of cheese in two days seems to have effected a cure and I'm now keen to get back to it. I've been reading about cooking dried beans in the eGullet forums and want to try some experiments with the scandalous no-soaking and early-salting methods. Comments (disabled)
So I feel fairly comfortable cooking Mediterranean food, with or without a recipe. But when it comes to Indian and south-east Asian food, I am at more of a loss. I know the kind of food I like from these areas (the kind served in cheap restaurants with sticky plastic tablecloths, badly translated menus offering lots of obscure fungi and braised fish heads, and non-English speaking waiters, mostly, unless it's Nahm). But faced with a recipe, I can't really tell whether it'll taste any good or not, let alone whether it's actually any more Asian than McDonalds. Reading most Indian recipes on the web, for example, you'd think that 80% of vegetarian curries were flavoured only with chilli and possibly a bit of turmeric or cumin. Surely that's not really the case? I need to get some books on traditional Indian and Asian cooking. Until then, I'll keep experimenting with recipes which catch my eye, and trying to train my sense of what works. I'd noticed last time I was in Taj Mahal Foods that they had packaged paneer in their cheese section. In Brisbane one of my favourite dishes at an Indian restaurant we went to often was palak paneer, spinach with curd cheese, so I thought this would be a good recipe to start experimenting with. I followed the same procedure as when I made the castagnaccio - download 6 or 8 recipes from the web, work out what are the common elements and what other elements I like, and make it up from there. Incidentally, I also finally tracked down an explanation of the difference between saag paneer and palak paneer (used interchangably on most restaurant menus, I think): this website says that palak is spinach, while saag is mustard greens, which are much less likely to be used in restaurants since they are more expensive and take longer to prepare. Methi (fenugreek) leaves appeared in several recipes, and I (amazingly) found the last bunch left at Taj when I went in to buy the paneer tonight, but if you can't find them you could make up the weight with spinach. The photo above was taken before I thought to stir the yoghurt through (which I think improves the taste, and also lightens the colour). This recipe certainly tasted pretty good to me - but as I say, I have no idea whether it is anything like authentic! Palak paneer
In a large saucepan, place the spinach and methi leaves with just the water clinging to them. Cook them over a medium heat, stirring now and then, until they are well wilted. Cool slightly, then transfer to a food processor, along with the tomatoes. Process for 30 seconds or so, until finely chopped. Heat some ghee in a frypan, then add the cubed paneer and cook over medium-high heat for several minutes, turning the paneer so it browns lightly on all sides. Remove from the heat and set the cubes on some kitchen towel to soak up any excess oil. In the large saucepan, heat a little ghee, then add the onions and fry for 5 minutes or so, until softened. Add the ginger, garlic and chillies and cook another 2 minutes, then add the cumin, coriander and turmeric and cook 1 minute more. Tip in the pureed spinach mixture, and bring back to a simmer. Taste and add salt or more spices as necessary. Add the fried paneer, and simmer for 5-10 minutes. Stir through the yoghurt to taste and remove from the heat. Serve with rice. Serves 4. Comments (disabled)
Anyway, having these magazines drop through the letterbox every month does keep me cooking new things, since I promised myself when signing up for them that I would make at least one thing from each magazine each month, before the new issue arrived. I have been keeping up with this quite well, until last month when, despite noticing about half a dozen recipes I wanted to try from the March Olive, I hadn't made one of them when April arrived. I rectified this by cooking two things from it tonight: a sweet potato and carrot soup, and some bread. The soup was nothing to write an entry about, or to make again (fry an onion and some garlic, add 250 g chopped carrots and 750 g chopped sweet potato, simmer in stock till tender, blend, season, serve with a drizzle of chilli oil. Very boring. Shows the power of a sexy photo to sucker you in to a recipe.) The bread, however, was fantastic. The recipe was by Paul Hollywood, who lived in Cyprus for five years as a hotel baker. The recipe was fairly terse, since after all it's the interview and photos which matter, right? Still, I think I made a pretty good loaf, using a combination of the recipe, information from the photo (which contradicted the shaping instructions given in the recipe) and a bit of making it up as I went along. I ended up with a somewhat strangely shaped loaf, but it tasted great. There was another variant of the recipe given, with the parsley omitted and replaced with the zest of 2 lemons and 150 g of crumbled feta - that would be good to try too. Both original recipes called for dried oregano, but I love fresh so used that instead. Cypriot bread with olives, haloumi and herbs
In a large bowl, mix together the flour, yeast and salt. Make a well in the centre and pour in the olive oil and water. Mix together, then tip out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 5 to 7 minutes, until the dough is smooth and elastic. Replace the dough in the bowl and leave to rise for 1 hour, until it has about doubled in size. Tip the dough out again and knead in the olives, cheese and herbs. Shape the dough into a rough oblong, and place on a baking sheet lined with baking parchment. Leave to rise again for another hour. Heat the oven to 220C. Slash a cut along the top of the loaf with a sharp knife. Bake for 30 minutes, then remove from the oven and rap on the bottom of the loaf - it should sound hollow. Let bread cool on a wire rack before eating. Comments (disabled)
And I'm not even 30 yet. Camargue red rice and zucchini salad
Bring a large pot of water or dilute stock to the boil and add the rice. Stir, then leave to simmer for 30-40 minutes until cooked. Drain. In a large pan, heat a little olive oil, then add the sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts, lemon zest and capers, and fry for 2 minutes, until heated through and the pine nuts are just starting to go golden. Add the zucchinis and cook another 2 minutes, then add the rice and cook 1 to 2 minutes, until heated through. Stir the lemon juice and most of the parsley through the salad. Serve at once, sprinkled with a little more parsley. Makes 2 generous main servings, or 4 side servings. Comments (disabled)
Almond and blood orange syrup cake
Preheat the oven to 180C. Grease and line a 20 cm cake tin. Finely grate the rind from 3 of the oranges, then juice all the oranges. Cream the butter and 1 cup of the sugar in a large bowl, until light and fluffy. Stir in the orange rind. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition until the mixture is smooth. Combine the baking powder, semolina and ground almonds. Gently fold this dry mixture into the wet batter. Add 1/4 cup of the orange juice and stir until combined. Spoon the mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until a knife inserted comes out clean. While the cake is baking, combine 1 1/2 cups of orange juice, the cinnamon stick and the remaining 3/4 cup of sugar in a small pan over medium-high heat. Bring the mixture to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 20-25 minutes or until syrupy. Discard the cinnamon stick. Once the cake is removed from the oven, gently spoon over about half the syrup. Let cool slightly, then remove from the tin and serve, drizzling a little more syrup over each slice. Serves 8. Comments (disabled)
We made an aubergine lasagne last new year's eve, which I vaguely remembered to have been fairly good. Lots of champagne (and the intervening couple of months of course) meant I couldn't remember precisely, so I thought it'd be good to have some proper scientific testing and try it again. While I was shopping for the ingredients I spotted a really luxuriant pot of fresh basil, and had a brainwave: aubergine lasagne with pesto! I can call it a brainwave now that it is currently sitting in my belly and my brain is unfogged by champagne, and I can tell you without vagueness that it tastes excellent! The only bothersome part of this recipe is the initial cooking of the aubergine. It tastes best when it is very finely sliced, which means that you spend an hour frying a hundred fine rounds of aubergine, but it is worth it in the end, really. You could probably make this lasagne with bottled pesto, but if at all possible make your own - it's really 5 minutes' work and the results are much better. Aubergine lasagne redux - now with added pesto!
In a large saucepan, heat a little olive oil, then add the chopped onion and stir over medium heat until softening. Add the garlic and saute another couple of minutes, then tip in the crushed tomatoes, passata and red wine. Simmer gently for 30 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste, and set aside. While the sauce is simmering, slice each of the aubergines lengthwise into slices about 2 or 3 mm thick. Layer these slices on the draining board or in a colander, salting between layers, then weight them down and leave them to drain for 20 minutes. Rinse the slices well under cold water and pat dry. Heat a little olive oil in a frypan and cook the slices, a few at a time, for a couple of minutes on each side until they are soft. Set aside on kitchen paper. To construct the lasagne, spread a couple of spoonfuls of the tomato sauce across the bottom of a lasagne dish, then cover this with a layer of pasta sheets. Cover these with more tomato sauce and a layer of aubergine slices. For the next layer, spread pesto on the lasagne sheets, then add a layer of aubergine. Keep repeating this until all the ingredients are used. Finish with a layer of pasta, well covered with tomato sauce, and sprinkled with grated mozzarella. Bake at 180C for about half an hour, until the top is golden and bubbling. Remove from the oven and let sit for a couple of minutes before serving (although, like almost all lasagnes, this is even better the next day). Serves 6-8. Comments (disabled)
I did a web search at lunchtime today and discovered that about 80% of all blood orange recipes are either for orange and fennel salad, orange, rocket and gorgonzola salad, or orange cake. Since I am making braised fennel tomorrow, and am not yet at such a level of degeneracy that I plan to eat cake for dinner, the middle option it was for tonight. I was quite surprised at myself for wanting to make this, since normally I shy away from fruit in savoury salad recipes - too much ambrosia as a child, perhaps. But I am glad I changed my mind this once, because this salad is great. I think it is because the orange is not sweet but rather the tart element of the salad, mellowed by the creamy gorgonzola and warm toasty pine nuts. Yum yum. And all ready in under 10 minutes! Rocket, gorgonzola and blood orange salad Salad
Dressing
Place the rocket in a bowl, add half the dressing, and toss well. Divide the rocket between two plates. On top of the rocket scatter the chopped oranges, crumbled gorgonzola and toasted pine nuts. Drizzle a little more dressing over, then serve at once, with a loaf of fresh and crusty white bread. Serves 2. Comments (disabled)
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