Just before half term, en route to my daughter's school concert in St Paul's, Knightsbridge, we decided to have an early dinner. Our venue, of course, had to be Koffmann's, the new restaurant at The Berkeley run by the legendary Pierre Kauffman. Like his previous establishment, La Tante Claire in Chelsea's Royal Hospital Road, the atmosphere is one of 'convivial bonhomie', with fabulous food themed photographs by Jean Cazals and a library of old kitchen classics. Needless to say, the food was exquisite, although, being in a hurry, we were unable to have his legendary signature dish of pig's trotter with chicken mousseline, sweetbreads and morels.
Instead we both had the 'pave de cabillaud haricots blancs' [cod fillet with white beans and chorizo], which came with divine vegetables and little packets of chips wrapped in newspaper cones, washed down with a deliciously crisp bottle of Pouilly Fume, Domaine Gilles Cholet 2008. Sadly, we didn't have time for either a starter or a dessert, a must for next time. Despite our shortened menu, I thoroughly recommend a visit to this shrine to the greatest of French cuisine. Like a new album from Bruce Springsteen, it's such a joy to see him back on the road.
But I digress. Whilst sipping my virgin Mary and waiting for my husband, I spent a glorious fifteen minutes browsing through the library at Koffmann's. I was in heaven. Books about food are almost as popular in my house as books about politics or philosophy. So I was thrilled to find an old copy of 'The Philosopher in the Kitchen', a collection of the reminiscences on cookery and the art of eating by Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin. It was first published as 'La Physiologie du Gout' in 1825, a year before his death. It has seldom been out of print since, with its most notable English translation first published in 1949 by food writer and critic, M.F.K. Fisher.
Born in the town of Belley, Ain, close to Savoy in 1755, where he was elected mayor in 1793, he was undoubtedly an Enlightenment man. He studied law, chemistry and medicine in Dijon before being elected to, and then fleeing from, the National Constituent Assembly in Paris during the worst excesses of the Revolution. He fled first to Switzerland and Holland, then America, where he earned his living giving French and violin lessons and playing first violin in the Park Theatre, New York. He returned to France in 1796/7 and took up the post of judge to the Court of Cassation, where he remained until his death. He was a truly remarkable man, forever to be remembered by the cheese and the gateau that were named after him.
Of course, time being short, I had to leave the book to be escorted to my table for dinner, [but not without jotting down a few notes with which I was able to order from Amazon's second hand links a paperback copy, translated by Anne Drayton, and published by Penguin in 1970]. Bliss. Like Montaigne's Essays or Proust, you can just dip in and out and savour a few philosophical morsels at a time. Books like this lift the soul, especially on a wet, autumnal day when you know that the long, dark evenings of winter are not so very far away.
I could not possibly do his work justice on my humble blog. So, by way of a starter, and to provide endless thoughts for short days and interminable evenings, I shall simply list Brillat-Savarin's 'Aphorisms', "by the Professor to serve as a prologue to his work and an eternal foundation for his Science."
1. The world is nothing without life, and all that lives takes nourishment.
11. Animals feed: man eats: only the man of intellect knows how to eat.
111. The fate of nations depends on the way they eat.
1V. Tell me what you eat: I will tell you what you are.
V. The Creator, who made man such that he must eat to live, incites him to eat by means of appetite, and rewards him with pleasure.
V1. Gourmandism is an act of judgement, by which we give preference to things which are agreeable to our taste over those which are not.
V11. The pleasures of the table belong to all times and all ages, to every country and every day; they go hand in hand with all our other pleasures, outlast them, and remain to console us for their loss.
V111. The table is the only place where the first hour is never dull.
1X. The discovery of a new dish does more for the happiness of mankind than the discovery of a star.
X. Drunkards and victims of indigestion do not know how to eat or drink.
X1. The right order of eating is from the most substantial dishes to the lightest.
X11. The right order of drinking is from the mildest wines to the headiest and most perfumed.
X111. To maintain that one wine may not be drunk after another is heresy; a man's palette can be saturated, and after the third glass the best of wines only produces a dull impression.
X1V. Dessert without cheese is like a pretty woman with only one eye.
XV. A man can become a cook, but he has to be born a 'rotisseur'.
XV1. The most indispensable quality in a cook is punctuality; it is also that of a guest.
XV11. To wait too long for an unpunctual guest is an act of discourtesy towards those who have arrived in time.
XV111. The man who invites his friends to his table, and fails to give his personal attention to the meal they are going to eat, is unworthy to have any friends.
X1X. The mistress of the house must always see to it that the coffee is excellent, and the master that the liqueurs are of the first quality.
XX. To entertain a guest is to make yourself responsible for his happiness so long as he is beneath your roof.
FORMIDABLE, N'EST-CE-PAS?
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Feed A Cold, Starve a Fever
Two weeks ago my daughter was sent home from school with a bender of a cold. As she cowered in her darkened room, coughing and spluttering amidst a mountain of soggy tissues, I did my dutiful mother bit. With a combination of 'Berocca' vitamin C tablets, echinacea tinctures, hot lemon and honey drinks, and boiled eggs and soldiers, I managed to restore her flagging immune system in time for her dreaded double maths lesson first thing on Monday morning. A fortnight later, I have finally succumbed to the dreaded 'lurgi' myself. It is not a pleasant experience and I am not a happy bunny. At times like these, we need to spoil ourselves and, in my book, the old remedies are the best.
My darling Irish mum, sadly no longer with us, had the most amazing cure, which nowadays would probably have put us on the social services register. It consisted of the juice of a fresh lemon, a tablespoon, at least, of delicious locally grown honey, two aspirins and a seriously good slug of Power's Irish whiskey, all gently heated and poured into a pretty china mug patterned with rosebuds. In the peace and quiet of the Irish countryside, I would sleep like a baby until I emerged, groggy but cured, some days later. With delicious boiled eggs foraged from her wayward chickens and a couple of slices of her home baked soda bread to line my stomach [alongside a constant supply of replenished hot water bottles, one for the chest, one for the feet, and a liberal dousing of 'Vick's Vapour Rub'], having a cold really was rather a treat.
Chicken soup is, of course, the other great staple cure for the common cold, beloved by Jewish mothers everywhere and immortalised by Rabbi Lionel Blue in his 'Chicken Soup For The Soul' recipe book. Chickens were too precious in rural Ireland to be slaughtered for anything other than high days and holidays. A runny nose and a hacking cough were not justification enough, so we made do with soft boiled eggs instead, hardly a deprivation, especially when served with warm bread straight from the peat range.
For some reason, my daughter declined the soup but I always make myself a pot of it to gorge on whenever I feel under the weather. I use masses of garlic, primarily for their ant-bacterial qualities but also because they make the soup taste sweet, and anything sweet is comforting and nurturing when you don't have your mum to run to any more. I like to add a hint of sage too, because it also has recuperative anti-bacterial qualities.
LOLA'S CHICKEN SOUP
1 good quality locally sourced, preferably organic, chicken
1 tablespoon good olive oil
2 large Spanish onions, finely chopped
5/6 garlic cloves grated
2 celery sticks, finely sliced
3 organic carrots, diced
2/3 leeks, sliced
3/4 sage leaves, finely chopped
small bunch flat leaf parsley, chopped
enough water to cover the chicken
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
Optional additions:
one head celeriac, chopped
one head of fennel, chopped
3 parsnips
2 turnips
chilli flakes or 1 finely chopped fresh chilli
some freshly grated fresh ginger
TO GARNISH
100 g fresh or frozen peas
400g g carrots, chopped
100g egg vermicelli or lochoen, if available
It's best not to be too purist with a chicken soup recipe, I find. The main thing is to go for the freshest, most seasonal and flavoursome vegetables you can find. However, the essential trio for this soup remains onion, celery and carrot.
METHOD
Gently heat the olive oil in a large saucepan [large enough for the chicken to sit in comfortably]. Sweat the onion in the olive oil until translucent. If you opt to use chilli for some extra heat, you put it in at this stage.
Add the celery and carrot and cook gently with the onion for a couple of minutes.
Put the chicken into the pot and cover completely with water. Bring gently to the boil.
Add all the other vegetables and the chopped herbs and season to taste. Using a fine cheese grater, grate in the garlic.
Turn down to a gentle simmer, cover and leave for one and a half to two hours. Skim off any fat or scum that forms on the top at regular intervals.
Remove the chicken, allow to cool a little and remove the meat from the carcass and bone. Reserve for the soup.
Cover the stock and cook for a further 30 minutes. Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon and allow the stock to cool. Refridgerate for 6 hours, or overnight. When chilled, remove all the fat solids from the top with a large spoon.
TO SERVE
Reheat the stock, bring to the boil and add the chopped carrots. Simmer for 10 minutes or so until the carrots are tender. Cut the reserved chicken into small pieces. Add the peas and vermicelli or lochoen and cook for a further 5 minutes, before returning the chicken pieces to the soup to heat through and serve. Garnish with some finely chopped flat leaf parsley.
LOLA'S RESTORATIVE WILTED SPINACH
I always think that dark coloured greens are great for a heavy cold and nothing beats a mound of freshly wilted organic spinach, pepped up with garlic, fresh chilli and lemon for extra vitamins. Actually, I love it anytime, especially with white fish.
500g freshly picked organic spinach, washed and shaken to remove excess water
1 tablespoon good olive oil
2 garlic cloves finely chopped
1 red chilli, seeds removed, and finely chopped
juice of half a lemon
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
METHOD
Heat the olive oil very gently in a wok or large cast iron pan and add the chilli and garlic. Cook over a low heat for five minutes.
Add the spinach and cover for five minutes, until the spinach has wilted. Add the lemon juice, soy sauce, salt and pepper and serve immediately.
My other great craving when I have a cold are stewed apples and blackberries, cooked in a little apple juice, a squeeze of lemon and a teaspoonful of allspice, cooled and chilled in the fridge for a few hours, with a good dollop of ice cream. Green and Black's is good, if you can manage to keep it in your fridge for more than a day. Shopping and coughing doesn't really work. For some peculiar reason, shock horror, I find that I can't cope with chocolate ice cream when my throat is gunky. Usually, I can polish it off by the tub full, especially with chunks of stem ginger and ginger syrup on top, or some fresh raspberries and a coulis. Vanilla is OK, lemon or orange ice cream even better. Best of all though is whisky and ginger ice cream. I adapted this recipe years ago, from the wonderful Jill Norman, when I was searching for something festive to have for dessert on Christmas Eve. Like my mum's Irish whiskey 'hot toddy', it zaps a cold in no time. And, even if it doesn't, it makes you feel so much better, you soon forget your woes!
WHISKEY AND GINGER ICE CREAM
75g granulated sugar
75mls water
75mls Power's Irish Whiskey, or Scottish malt whisky, or American Bourbon
100g stem ginger, finely chopped
4 egg yolks
100g organic caster sugar
450mls whole milk
150mls double cream
METHOD
Make a syrup by bringing the water and granulated sugar to the boil in a saucepan. Stir to dissolve the sugar and simmer for 5 minutes. Cool, then add the whiskey and ginger and set aside.
Fill the sink with cold water just in case the eggs start to separate. Beat the egg yolks and caster sugar until thick and pale in colour. In another pan, heat the milk slowly just to boiling point. Pour a little into the egg and sugar mixture, beating all the time. Add the rest of the milk slowly, and keep stirring. Return the mixture to the pan over a low heat and stir until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Do not let it boil - if it appears to be getting too hot and in danger of splitting, put the saucepan into the cold water in the sink to reduce the temperature immediately.
Strain into a bowl and stir as the custard cools, then stir in the ginger mixture.
Whip the cream lightly and fold it into the custard. Freeze in an ice cream maker, as per the manufacturer's instructions, then put the mixture into a plastic box and leave in the freezer for at least an hour before serving.
Scrumptious and good for both body and soul [although perhaps not the waistline!].
My darling Irish mum, sadly no longer with us, had the most amazing cure, which nowadays would probably have put us on the social services register. It consisted of the juice of a fresh lemon, a tablespoon, at least, of delicious locally grown honey, two aspirins and a seriously good slug of Power's Irish whiskey, all gently heated and poured into a pretty china mug patterned with rosebuds. In the peace and quiet of the Irish countryside, I would sleep like a baby until I emerged, groggy but cured, some days later. With delicious boiled eggs foraged from her wayward chickens and a couple of slices of her home baked soda bread to line my stomach [alongside a constant supply of replenished hot water bottles, one for the chest, one for the feet, and a liberal dousing of 'Vick's Vapour Rub'], having a cold really was rather a treat.
Chicken soup is, of course, the other great staple cure for the common cold, beloved by Jewish mothers everywhere and immortalised by Rabbi Lionel Blue in his 'Chicken Soup For The Soul' recipe book. Chickens were too precious in rural Ireland to be slaughtered for anything other than high days and holidays. A runny nose and a hacking cough were not justification enough, so we made do with soft boiled eggs instead, hardly a deprivation, especially when served with warm bread straight from the peat range.
For some reason, my daughter declined the soup but I always make myself a pot of it to gorge on whenever I feel under the weather. I use masses of garlic, primarily for their ant-bacterial qualities but also because they make the soup taste sweet, and anything sweet is comforting and nurturing when you don't have your mum to run to any more. I like to add a hint of sage too, because it also has recuperative anti-bacterial qualities.
LOLA'S CHICKEN SOUP
1 good quality locally sourced, preferably organic, chicken
1 tablespoon good olive oil
2 large Spanish onions, finely chopped
5/6 garlic cloves grated
2 celery sticks, finely sliced
3 organic carrots, diced
2/3 leeks, sliced
3/4 sage leaves, finely chopped
small bunch flat leaf parsley, chopped
enough water to cover the chicken
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
Optional additions:
one head celeriac, chopped
one head of fennel, chopped
3 parsnips
2 turnips
chilli flakes or 1 finely chopped fresh chilli
some freshly grated fresh ginger
TO GARNISH
100 g fresh or frozen peas
400g g carrots, chopped
100g egg vermicelli or lochoen, if available
It's best not to be too purist with a chicken soup recipe, I find. The main thing is to go for the freshest, most seasonal and flavoursome vegetables you can find. However, the essential trio for this soup remains onion, celery and carrot.
METHOD
Gently heat the olive oil in a large saucepan [large enough for the chicken to sit in comfortably]. Sweat the onion in the olive oil until translucent. If you opt to use chilli for some extra heat, you put it in at this stage.
Add the celery and carrot and cook gently with the onion for a couple of minutes.
Put the chicken into the pot and cover completely with water. Bring gently to the boil.
Add all the other vegetables and the chopped herbs and season to taste. Using a fine cheese grater, grate in the garlic.
Turn down to a gentle simmer, cover and leave for one and a half to two hours. Skim off any fat or scum that forms on the top at regular intervals.
Remove the chicken, allow to cool a little and remove the meat from the carcass and bone. Reserve for the soup.
Cover the stock and cook for a further 30 minutes. Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon and allow the stock to cool. Refridgerate for 6 hours, or overnight. When chilled, remove all the fat solids from the top with a large spoon.
TO SERVE
Reheat the stock, bring to the boil and add the chopped carrots. Simmer for 10 minutes or so until the carrots are tender. Cut the reserved chicken into small pieces. Add the peas and vermicelli or lochoen and cook for a further 5 minutes, before returning the chicken pieces to the soup to heat through and serve. Garnish with some finely chopped flat leaf parsley.
LOLA'S RESTORATIVE WILTED SPINACH
I always think that dark coloured greens are great for a heavy cold and nothing beats a mound of freshly wilted organic spinach, pepped up with garlic, fresh chilli and lemon for extra vitamins. Actually, I love it anytime, especially with white fish.
500g freshly picked organic spinach, washed and shaken to remove excess water
1 tablespoon good olive oil
2 garlic cloves finely chopped
1 red chilli, seeds removed, and finely chopped
juice of half a lemon
1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
METHOD
Heat the olive oil very gently in a wok or large cast iron pan and add the chilli and garlic. Cook over a low heat for five minutes.
Add the spinach and cover for five minutes, until the spinach has wilted. Add the lemon juice, soy sauce, salt and pepper and serve immediately.
My other great craving when I have a cold are stewed apples and blackberries, cooked in a little apple juice, a squeeze of lemon and a teaspoonful of allspice, cooled and chilled in the fridge for a few hours, with a good dollop of ice cream. Green and Black's is good, if you can manage to keep it in your fridge for more than a day. Shopping and coughing doesn't really work. For some peculiar reason, shock horror, I find that I can't cope with chocolate ice cream when my throat is gunky. Usually, I can polish it off by the tub full, especially with chunks of stem ginger and ginger syrup on top, or some fresh raspberries and a coulis. Vanilla is OK, lemon or orange ice cream even better. Best of all though is whisky and ginger ice cream. I adapted this recipe years ago, from the wonderful Jill Norman, when I was searching for something festive to have for dessert on Christmas Eve. Like my mum's Irish whiskey 'hot toddy', it zaps a cold in no time. And, even if it doesn't, it makes you feel so much better, you soon forget your woes!
WHISKEY AND GINGER ICE CREAM
75g granulated sugar
75mls water
75mls Power's Irish Whiskey, or Scottish malt whisky, or American Bourbon
100g stem ginger, finely chopped
4 egg yolks
100g organic caster sugar
450mls whole milk
150mls double cream
METHOD
Make a syrup by bringing the water and granulated sugar to the boil in a saucepan. Stir to dissolve the sugar and simmer for 5 minutes. Cool, then add the whiskey and ginger and set aside.
Fill the sink with cold water just in case the eggs start to separate. Beat the egg yolks and caster sugar until thick and pale in colour. In another pan, heat the milk slowly just to boiling point. Pour a little into the egg and sugar mixture, beating all the time. Add the rest of the milk slowly, and keep stirring. Return the mixture to the pan over a low heat and stir until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Do not let it boil - if it appears to be getting too hot and in danger of splitting, put the saucepan into the cold water in the sink to reduce the temperature immediately.
Strain into a bowl and stir as the custard cools, then stir in the ginger mixture.
Whip the cream lightly and fold it into the custard. Freeze in an ice cream maker, as per the manufacturer's instructions, then put the mixture into a plastic box and leave in the freezer for at least an hour before serving.
Scrumptious and good for both body and soul [although perhaps not the waistline!].
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Food For Old Souls
On my way back over the mountains from Barcelona, via Puigcerda and Ax, I stopped off overnight with my friends, Sarah and Pascal, in their lovely house overlooking hectaires of virgin woodland near Castillon. It was a damp evening but we could not resist eating on their top floor terrace, with its stunning views of unadulterated woodland. We were amply rewarded with just a fleeting glimpse of the setting sun, like a mirage in the desert, which turned the sombre hues in front of us into a radiant backdrop for an Impressionist's palette. But I digress.
After the obligatory 'aperro' of 'pastis', Sarah produced a delicious supper of deliciously sweet and juicy melon with Bayonne ham, followed by homemade bread, salad, grilled summer vegetables and local cheese, all washed down with a couple of bottles of her father's renowned 'Moulin Rouge'. She declined the ham because, she said, her blood group was 'A' and therefore she was supposed to eliminate all meats from her diet. Fascinated by this apparent non-sequitur, I asked her why. She then, at great length, began to explain to me the theory behind the notion that one's blood type is the key to long term health and the avoidance of disease. I had to confess that I had never heard of a link between blood type and suitable diet.
Blood types are as fundamental as creation itself. I should know, because my favourite aunt nearly died because of a mistake during a transfusion. Sarah has researched these links because she and her partner, Pascal, have decided to start a family and she does not want to run the risk of a second miscarriage. I listened attentively, as I continued to eat my way through supper in complete ignorance of my own blood type requirements. Sarah's food choices suited me down to the ground because I strongly believed that a largely vegetarian diet was the healthiest option, for all of us. And then I forgot all about it, in the chaos of getting ready for our new 'locateurs' at Bardies, and the prospective long journey home.
Then yesterday, scrummaging through the abandoned books in our local 'hospice shop', I discovered a book called 'Eat Right For Your Type' by Dr. Peter J. D'Adamo. Not for the first time was I struck by just how often it is in life that supposed coincidences mirror actual events. It was a pound well spent, a revelation indeed, although I have to confess that I still couldn't resist half a bar of Green and Black's orgasmic milk chocolate by my regular mid afternoon lull! I'm not natural convert material at the best of times, so I like to absorb these Damascene moments slowly.
It transpires that blood type is a cellular fingerprint, an extension of the groundbreaking findings related to human DNA. Furthermore, over the last half century we have been able to use biological markers such as blood type to map the movements and groupings of our ancestors. Change in climate and available food produced new blood types, which enabled human beings to acclimatise to different environmental challenges and survive. As the human race moved around and was forced to adapt its diet to changing conditions, the new diet provoked adaptations in the digestive tract and immune system necessary for it to first survive and then thrive in each new habitat.
These changes are reflected in the development of the blood types, which appear to have arrived at critical junctures of human development. Around 40,000 BC, our Cro-Magnon Type 'O' ancestors, the oldest of the blood groups, dominated the food chain, hunting in packs and utilising tools and weapons to their predatory ends. Meat, protein, was their fuel and as population growth resulted in good hunting becoming scarce, the migration of the human race, out of Africa into Europe and Asia, began.
Type 'A' blood initially appeared somewhere in Asia or the Middle East between 25,000 and 15,000 BC, in response to new environmental conditions, which heralded agriculture and animal domestication. This radical change resulted in an entirely new mutation in the digestive tracts and the immune systems of these Neolithic peoples, one that enabled them to better tolerate and absorb cultivated grains and other agricultural products. The genetic mutation that produced Type 'A' from Type 'O' was extraordinarily fast, enabling Type 'A' to emerge as more resistant to infections common to densely populated, urban, industrialised societies. Eventually, the gene for Type 'A' blood spread beyond Asia and the Middle East into western Europe, carried by the Indo-Europeans. Over time, the digestive system of the hunter-gatherers lost its ability to digest its carnivorous pre-agricultural diet.
In complete contrast, blood Type 'B' emerged from the Himalayan highlands sometime between 10,000 and 15,000 BC, a mutation perhaps due to climatic changes. It first appeared in the Caucasian and Mongolian tribes of the steppes, who by this time dominated the Eurasian plains. Two distinct Type 'B's' emerged, between warlike tribes to the north and west, expert horsemen and dairy consumers, and an agrarian and peaceful group to the south and east, who utilised little, if any, dairy produce, whose diet suited them less well. Type 'B' blood is found in increased numbers from Japan, Mongolia, China and India up to the Ural mountains, with quite a high incidence amongst Germans and Austrians, historically on the cusp between the two rival civilisations.
Type 'AB' blood is rare, found in less than 5% of the population, and may be attributed to Attila the Hun and his fellow conquering hordes. It emerged from the mingling of Type 'A' Caucasians with Type 'B' Mongolians and shares the tolerance of both. This unique quality of possessing neither anti 'A' or anti 'B' antibodies minimises their chances of being susceptible to allergies and other auto-immune diseases, but this can prove to be problemmatical when Type 'AB' fails to produce any opposing antibodies because it cannot distinguish difference from 'self'. There is no evidence for its existence beyond 900- 1,000 years ago so it is the youngest of the blood types.
So where does all this get us? Apparently, even in the 21st Century, our immune and digestive systems still maintain a favouritism for foods that our blood type ancestors ate. According to Dr. D'Adamo, eating the correct diet for our historic blood group will restore the natural protective functions of our immune systems, rebalance our metabolisms and clear our blood of dangerous agglutinating lectins [the 'glue' that enables organisms to attach themselves to other organisms in nature]. Many food lectins have characteristics that are close enough to a certain blood type antigen to make it an 'enemy' to another. A good example would be milk, which has 'B' like qualities that would make a Type' A' person begin the agglutination process in order to reject it.
Because the lectin process is resistant, it doesn't get digested but stays intact, causing potential harm. Once the intact lectin protein settles somewhere in the body, it clumps the cells together and targets them for destruction as if, they too, are foreign invaders.This clumping can cause irritable bowel syndrome in the intestines, cirrhosis of the liver, or block the flow of blood through the kidneys, to name just a few possible effects. No wonder a bacon sandwich makes me feel dreadful afterwards!
As a Type 'O', which I used to think was the most boring blood group of all, I've just realised why my weight has ballooned since I've started many faddy diets. The only diet that ever worked for me was the 'Scarsdale Medical Diet', much maligned after his early, apparently unrelated, demise. It's a predominantly protein and vegetable diet, with no wheat and no dairy [apart from one little slice of Dr Vogel's bread for breakfast], the perfect diet for a Type 'O'! No wonder I've failed on all those healthy, high grain and vegetarian diets, my ancestors were running round after wild beasts with cudgels and flint arrowheads. Even the trusty cabbage soup diet is a 'no,no' because cabbage inhibits the thyroid function of Type 'O's.
I'm having trouble reconciling conflicting medial opinions here, especially with regard to the relationship between meat consumption and the incidence of bowel cancer, but, in truth, I know that a high protein diet works for me. I'll let you know how I get on over the coming months as I try to work out recipes for a new regime. Food for old souls, indeed. Meantime, I think there's still some Dolcelatte left over from an Italian inspired lunch that I did for my old schoolfriends. Oh, and a big pot of Rachel's Organic Gooseberry Yoghurt....and those freshly foraged blackberries I was going to put in a crumble with our windfall apples......Ah well, tomorrow is another day.
After the obligatory 'aperro' of 'pastis', Sarah produced a delicious supper of deliciously sweet and juicy melon with Bayonne ham, followed by homemade bread, salad, grilled summer vegetables and local cheese, all washed down with a couple of bottles of her father's renowned 'Moulin Rouge'. She declined the ham because, she said, her blood group was 'A' and therefore she was supposed to eliminate all meats from her diet. Fascinated by this apparent non-sequitur, I asked her why. She then, at great length, began to explain to me the theory behind the notion that one's blood type is the key to long term health and the avoidance of disease. I had to confess that I had never heard of a link between blood type and suitable diet.
Blood types are as fundamental as creation itself. I should know, because my favourite aunt nearly died because of a mistake during a transfusion. Sarah has researched these links because she and her partner, Pascal, have decided to start a family and she does not want to run the risk of a second miscarriage. I listened attentively, as I continued to eat my way through supper in complete ignorance of my own blood type requirements. Sarah's food choices suited me down to the ground because I strongly believed that a largely vegetarian diet was the healthiest option, for all of us. And then I forgot all about it, in the chaos of getting ready for our new 'locateurs' at Bardies, and the prospective long journey home.
Then yesterday, scrummaging through the abandoned books in our local 'hospice shop', I discovered a book called 'Eat Right For Your Type' by Dr. Peter J. D'Adamo. Not for the first time was I struck by just how often it is in life that supposed coincidences mirror actual events. It was a pound well spent, a revelation indeed, although I have to confess that I still couldn't resist half a bar of Green and Black's orgasmic milk chocolate by my regular mid afternoon lull! I'm not natural convert material at the best of times, so I like to absorb these Damascene moments slowly.
It transpires that blood type is a cellular fingerprint, an extension of the groundbreaking findings related to human DNA. Furthermore, over the last half century we have been able to use biological markers such as blood type to map the movements and groupings of our ancestors. Change in climate and available food produced new blood types, which enabled human beings to acclimatise to different environmental challenges and survive. As the human race moved around and was forced to adapt its diet to changing conditions, the new diet provoked adaptations in the digestive tract and immune system necessary for it to first survive and then thrive in each new habitat.
These changes are reflected in the development of the blood types, which appear to have arrived at critical junctures of human development. Around 40,000 BC, our Cro-Magnon Type 'O' ancestors, the oldest of the blood groups, dominated the food chain, hunting in packs and utilising tools and weapons to their predatory ends. Meat, protein, was their fuel and as population growth resulted in good hunting becoming scarce, the migration of the human race, out of Africa into Europe and Asia, began.
Type 'A' blood initially appeared somewhere in Asia or the Middle East between 25,000 and 15,000 BC, in response to new environmental conditions, which heralded agriculture and animal domestication. This radical change resulted in an entirely new mutation in the digestive tracts and the immune systems of these Neolithic peoples, one that enabled them to better tolerate and absorb cultivated grains and other agricultural products. The genetic mutation that produced Type 'A' from Type 'O' was extraordinarily fast, enabling Type 'A' to emerge as more resistant to infections common to densely populated, urban, industrialised societies. Eventually, the gene for Type 'A' blood spread beyond Asia and the Middle East into western Europe, carried by the Indo-Europeans. Over time, the digestive system of the hunter-gatherers lost its ability to digest its carnivorous pre-agricultural diet.
In complete contrast, blood Type 'B' emerged from the Himalayan highlands sometime between 10,000 and 15,000 BC, a mutation perhaps due to climatic changes. It first appeared in the Caucasian and Mongolian tribes of the steppes, who by this time dominated the Eurasian plains. Two distinct Type 'B's' emerged, between warlike tribes to the north and west, expert horsemen and dairy consumers, and an agrarian and peaceful group to the south and east, who utilised little, if any, dairy produce, whose diet suited them less well. Type 'B' blood is found in increased numbers from Japan, Mongolia, China and India up to the Ural mountains, with quite a high incidence amongst Germans and Austrians, historically on the cusp between the two rival civilisations.
Type 'AB' blood is rare, found in less than 5% of the population, and may be attributed to Attila the Hun and his fellow conquering hordes. It emerged from the mingling of Type 'A' Caucasians with Type 'B' Mongolians and shares the tolerance of both. This unique quality of possessing neither anti 'A' or anti 'B' antibodies minimises their chances of being susceptible to allergies and other auto-immune diseases, but this can prove to be problemmatical when Type 'AB' fails to produce any opposing antibodies because it cannot distinguish difference from 'self'. There is no evidence for its existence beyond 900- 1,000 years ago so it is the youngest of the blood types.
So where does all this get us? Apparently, even in the 21st Century, our immune and digestive systems still maintain a favouritism for foods that our blood type ancestors ate. According to Dr. D'Adamo, eating the correct diet for our historic blood group will restore the natural protective functions of our immune systems, rebalance our metabolisms and clear our blood of dangerous agglutinating lectins [the 'glue' that enables organisms to attach themselves to other organisms in nature]. Many food lectins have characteristics that are close enough to a certain blood type antigen to make it an 'enemy' to another. A good example would be milk, which has 'B' like qualities that would make a Type' A' person begin the agglutination process in order to reject it.
Because the lectin process is resistant, it doesn't get digested but stays intact, causing potential harm. Once the intact lectin protein settles somewhere in the body, it clumps the cells together and targets them for destruction as if, they too, are foreign invaders.This clumping can cause irritable bowel syndrome in the intestines, cirrhosis of the liver, or block the flow of blood through the kidneys, to name just a few possible effects. No wonder a bacon sandwich makes me feel dreadful afterwards!
As a Type 'O', which I used to think was the most boring blood group of all, I've just realised why my weight has ballooned since I've started many faddy diets. The only diet that ever worked for me was the 'Scarsdale Medical Diet', much maligned after his early, apparently unrelated, demise. It's a predominantly protein and vegetable diet, with no wheat and no dairy [apart from one little slice of Dr Vogel's bread for breakfast], the perfect diet for a Type 'O'! No wonder I've failed on all those healthy, high grain and vegetarian diets, my ancestors were running round after wild beasts with cudgels and flint arrowheads. Even the trusty cabbage soup diet is a 'no,no' because cabbage inhibits the thyroid function of Type 'O's.
I'm having trouble reconciling conflicting medial opinions here, especially with regard to the relationship between meat consumption and the incidence of bowel cancer, but, in truth, I know that a high protein diet works for me. I'll let you know how I get on over the coming months as I try to work out recipes for a new regime. Food for old souls, indeed. Meantime, I think there's still some Dolcelatte left over from an Italian inspired lunch that I did for my old schoolfriends. Oh, and a big pot of Rachel's Organic Gooseberry Yoghurt....and those freshly foraged blackberries I was going to put in a crumble with our windfall apples......Ah well, tomorrow is another day.
Friday, 9 July 2010
If You Don't Like Lemon or Garlic...
I have been one of Yotam Ottolenghi's fans ever since he started his column in the Saturday Guardian colour supplement although, sadly, I have not yet made it to 'Ottolenghi' [food shop, patisserie, deli, restaurant, bakery] in Notting Hill. This is sacrilege for a foodie like me, especially as W2 is our old stomping ground but, in my defence, I have to say that it's because we no longer have a flat in London. Times are much tougher than they used to be and our flat got sold just after Ottolenghi began his inspiring experiment with food in July 2002. It remains on my pilgrimage list.
I love everything that they stand for, not least the history of the owners. Yotam is Jewish and from Jerusalem. Sami Tamimi, his partner in the restaurant, is from old Jerusalem and is Palestinian. Not only does their food symbolise a meeting of cultures, they themselves represent that great hope for peace and reconciliation that the great Daniel Baremboim and the late Edward Said so eloquently expounded. I'm not sure that Yotam and Sami would see themselves in this light but food is the essence of giving and sharing. It always seems to me that food is the keystone of any culture and that people who are interested in the food traditions of others are well on their way towards understanding the way a given culture functions.
We live in exciting times. Mostly, we can get the ingredients we want relatively easily. There is a plethora of cookbooks or websites to instruct us in how to prepare them. Less happily, our television screens are forever full of competitive cookery programmes. So why, I ask myself, do so few people really understand the way flavours work with each other? I suspect that it's because most people use books and TV programmes rather than their own tastebuds and instinct. We do not need to follow the crowd. With a few well chosen staples, a decent spice cupboard and pots of fresh herbs on the windowsill, we are all capable of improvising our own unique dishes.
Knowledge is the key and if you haven't felt inclined to move away from the latest Jamie Oliver book [nothing wrong with Jamie, I hasten to add!], I thoroughly recommend spashing out on 'Ottolenghi, The Cookbook' or 'Plenty', or both. I have been reading it as avidly as a thriller. This is cooking after my own heart, from their hearts, and it's a great read. "If you don't like lemon or gartlic....skip to the last page," they say, and they are right. They continue, "Unfussiness and simplicity are, for us, the only way to maintain the freshness of a dish. Each individual ingredient has a clear voice, plain characteristics that are lucid and poweful - images, tastes and aromas you remember and yearn for." I couldn't put it better myself!
For me the smell of pine nuts toasting, of cumin and coriander seeds popping in a pan, of coriander, basil, marjoram or mint from the 'potager' being freshly chopped or chilli, garlic and ginger being gently fried, to name but a few, is the stuff of my home. Would Christmas be the same without the smell of nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves? Would winter be the same without the smell of butternut squash or a whole chicken roasting? Would summer be the same without the smell of salty sardines or new season's lamb on a barbeque? I'm talking simple stuff here but, oh, the most evocative smells imaginable.
My key ingredients begin, of course, with lemon and garlic. I make a salsa for fish with them, adding in some flat leaf parsley. I make a salad dressing with them, adding in fresh marjoram, thyme and chives and lots of salt and pepper. I stuff a chicken with them, adding fresh tarragon if I've got it, dried if I haven't. I add freshly roasted ground cumin and coriander seeds for North African dishes, honey, freshly grated ginger and soy for oriental ones. I always keep a jar of pickled lemons in the fridge for a charmoula or tagine and some sweet, marinated garlics from the market to jazz up a tomato salad. And if my liver's in danger of playing up, I down a whole squeezed lemon, minus the garlic, in a tumbler of cold water!
Good olive oil and the best vinegars you can afford are essential, especially Balsamic vinegars [don't by the ones sweetened with caramel syrup], although I'm spoilt by my friend Helen, who regularly gives me a litre of her very own, home grown Tuscan oil. I always buy good local honey from the market in St Girons - there is nothing like it and I swear it keeps colds at bay. One day we'll have our own, I hope. Good 10% fat yoghurt, feta and halloumi cheese are another essential, as are chick peas and tahini, black olives, capers, cornichons, bayonne ham and 'mi-cuit' tomatoes. When there is a glut of tomatoes at the market in late summer, I gently roast them in olive oil with fresh thyme and use them in everything that I can. Fresh basil, parmesan and pine nuts are the stuff of high summer too, and a 'pesto' takes only a minute ot two to make.
With some flour in the cupboard, you can always throw together a quick quiche [fresh tomatoes, a camembert and some thyme is an easy lunch one]. Cous-cous can be stretched to accommodate lots of guests, and is a great way to use up vegetables. Dried linguine or spaghetti is a good standby for a 'pasta puttanesca', as long as you have some capers, anchovies and black olives tucked away. You really don't need very much more than your imagination to ring the changes but the 'Ottolenghi' cookbook will certainly up the 'ante'. I had intended to write down a couple of my favourite recipes but the book is at Bardies instead. You could, of course, buy your own. Go on. Spoil Yourself. It's really, really worth it, I promise.
I love everything that they stand for, not least the history of the owners. Yotam is Jewish and from Jerusalem. Sami Tamimi, his partner in the restaurant, is from old Jerusalem and is Palestinian. Not only does their food symbolise a meeting of cultures, they themselves represent that great hope for peace and reconciliation that the great Daniel Baremboim and the late Edward Said so eloquently expounded. I'm not sure that Yotam and Sami would see themselves in this light but food is the essence of giving and sharing. It always seems to me that food is the keystone of any culture and that people who are interested in the food traditions of others are well on their way towards understanding the way a given culture functions.
We live in exciting times. Mostly, we can get the ingredients we want relatively easily. There is a plethora of cookbooks or websites to instruct us in how to prepare them. Less happily, our television screens are forever full of competitive cookery programmes. So why, I ask myself, do so few people really understand the way flavours work with each other? I suspect that it's because most people use books and TV programmes rather than their own tastebuds and instinct. We do not need to follow the crowd. With a few well chosen staples, a decent spice cupboard and pots of fresh herbs on the windowsill, we are all capable of improvising our own unique dishes.
Knowledge is the key and if you haven't felt inclined to move away from the latest Jamie Oliver book [nothing wrong with Jamie, I hasten to add!], I thoroughly recommend spashing out on 'Ottolenghi, The Cookbook' or 'Plenty', or both. I have been reading it as avidly as a thriller. This is cooking after my own heart, from their hearts, and it's a great read. "If you don't like lemon or gartlic....skip to the last page," they say, and they are right. They continue, "Unfussiness and simplicity are, for us, the only way to maintain the freshness of a dish. Each individual ingredient has a clear voice, plain characteristics that are lucid and poweful - images, tastes and aromas you remember and yearn for." I couldn't put it better myself!
For me the smell of pine nuts toasting, of cumin and coriander seeds popping in a pan, of coriander, basil, marjoram or mint from the 'potager' being freshly chopped or chilli, garlic and ginger being gently fried, to name but a few, is the stuff of my home. Would Christmas be the same without the smell of nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves? Would winter be the same without the smell of butternut squash or a whole chicken roasting? Would summer be the same without the smell of salty sardines or new season's lamb on a barbeque? I'm talking simple stuff here but, oh, the most evocative smells imaginable.
My key ingredients begin, of course, with lemon and garlic. I make a salsa for fish with them, adding in some flat leaf parsley. I make a salad dressing with them, adding in fresh marjoram, thyme and chives and lots of salt and pepper. I stuff a chicken with them, adding fresh tarragon if I've got it, dried if I haven't. I add freshly roasted ground cumin and coriander seeds for North African dishes, honey, freshly grated ginger and soy for oriental ones. I always keep a jar of pickled lemons in the fridge for a charmoula or tagine and some sweet, marinated garlics from the market to jazz up a tomato salad. And if my liver's in danger of playing up, I down a whole squeezed lemon, minus the garlic, in a tumbler of cold water!
Good olive oil and the best vinegars you can afford are essential, especially Balsamic vinegars [don't by the ones sweetened with caramel syrup], although I'm spoilt by my friend Helen, who regularly gives me a litre of her very own, home grown Tuscan oil. I always buy good local honey from the market in St Girons - there is nothing like it and I swear it keeps colds at bay. One day we'll have our own, I hope. Good 10% fat yoghurt, feta and halloumi cheese are another essential, as are chick peas and tahini, black olives, capers, cornichons, bayonne ham and 'mi-cuit' tomatoes. When there is a glut of tomatoes at the market in late summer, I gently roast them in olive oil with fresh thyme and use them in everything that I can. Fresh basil, parmesan and pine nuts are the stuff of high summer too, and a 'pesto' takes only a minute ot two to make.
With some flour in the cupboard, you can always throw together a quick quiche [fresh tomatoes, a camembert and some thyme is an easy lunch one]. Cous-cous can be stretched to accommodate lots of guests, and is a great way to use up vegetables. Dried linguine or spaghetti is a good standby for a 'pasta puttanesca', as long as you have some capers, anchovies and black olives tucked away. You really don't need very much more than your imagination to ring the changes but the 'Ottolenghi' cookbook will certainly up the 'ante'. I had intended to write down a couple of my favourite recipes but the book is at Bardies instead. You could, of course, buy your own. Go on. Spoil Yourself. It's really, really worth it, I promise.
Friday, 25 June 2010
Sunshine and Salads
How I love these long, languorous, lazy June days, when the garden is resplendent in its finest, jewel coloured blooms and the 'potager' is already producing copious quantities of lettuce varieties, rocket, sorrel, chervil, parsley, marjoram and much, much more. The promise of peas, beans, tomatoes and courgettes to come is eagerly anticipated, 'limaces' and 'escargots' permitting. This year has been particularly bad for the slimy sods and we have had to resort to those bright little balls of brilliant cobalt, which you have to double check in the salad spinner for fear of ingesting the odd stray. The sunshine has made the world of difference too. Sadly, as a result, we've polished off all the strawberries in an orgy of excess.
Salads are the order of the day because the more you cut, the more they come. Whilst the variety and quality of lettuce in France is far superior to those available in the UK, I cannot understand why so many people don't grow their own. I am the world's laziest gardener but even I feel a huge sense of pride when I see the fruits of my minimal labours. A packet of seed [well, only part of one], a quick transfer from seed trays to 'potager', followed by an instant manicure, a splash of water and Bob's votre oncle! Nothing could be simpler and the ensuing taste sensation is exponentially disproportionate to the work involved. There is nothing better for one's health than a diet of sunshine and home grown salads.
SIMPLE GOAT'S CHEESE SALAD
I like to use the little baby 'crottins' from local artisans who sell on the Saturday morning market in St Girons, but you can use 'bouches', cut into 2cm slices, from the supermarket. You can use either walnuts and walnut oil, or hazlenuts and hazelnut oil, but not a combination unless you like your flavours muddied.
Serves 4
4 'crottins' of individual soft goat's cheese, or 4 slices cut from a 'bouche de chevre'
couple sprigs fresh thyme from the 'potager'
200g salad leaves
50g walnuts or hazlenuts
4 slices 'flute' [baguettes are generally too small in diameter]
olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the vinaigrette
3 tbs walnut or hazlenut oil
1 tbs white wine vinegar
1 clove garlic, crushed
squeeze fresh lemon juice
salt and black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200C.
Place the 'crottins' on a baking tray with either half a walnut each and a few thyme leaves, or a few crushed hazlenuts and thyme leaves, and drizzle with a little olive oil. Season with salt and black pepper and bake for 5-6 minutes until warmed through but not melted.
Crush remaining nuts in the mortar with a pestle.
Wash and spin the lettuce leaves, put in a bowl and add the crushed nuts.
Toast the 'flute' slices until golden brown.
Put the walnut or hazlenut oil into a jar, with the vinegar, garlic, lemon, salt and pepper and shake well to combine. Drizzle some over salad leaves and nuts and toss together.
To serve, arrange the salad leaves on individual plates [I like blue ones for salad!] and place a toasted crouton on each. Top with the hot goat's cheeses and spoon over the remaining vinaigrette to serve. C'est tres simple. Voila!
SKYE GYNGELL'S CAESAR SALAD DRESSING
Ever since we lived in St Margaret's and bought our garden plants from the Petersham Nurseries, I have loved Skye's deceptively simple ways with food - she is the queen of fresh.
Serves 4
2 organic free range egg yolks
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 tsp powdered mustard
4 very good quality anchovies [from Collioure close to the Spanish border, if you can get them - worth the trip just for a couple of jars and a stunning day out!]
juice 1/2 [half] lemon
200mls extra virgin olive oil [the best]
60 g freshly grated parmesan [you can get it from Mme Gilbert or from the cheese counter in the St Lizier 'Les Mousquetaires']
1 generous tbsp creme fraiche
Method
Place the yolks, garlic, mustard, anchovies and lemon juice into a food processor and turn on. Slowly pour the oil through the funnel in the top, blending until smooth. Tip into a bowl and stir in the parmesan and creme fresh. The finished dressing should fall easily from a spoon; if it is too thick, loosen with a little water. Set aside for the salad of your choice.
SALAD OF TORN BREAD, BAYONNE HAM, TOMATOES AND CAESAR DRESSING
4 slices 'pain de campagne', 2.5cms thick
1 clove garlic peeled
30ml extra virgin olive oil plus 1 tbsp
1 raddicchio [from 'Tutti-Frutti' in St Girons]
squeeze of lemon
4 firm green tomatoes [there should be some on the tomato plants in the 'potager'], or red or yellow ones
8 very fine slices bayonne ham
Method
Grill the bread on both sides until golden brown. Whilst it is still warm, gently rub with the garlic clove and drizzle over the olive oil. Tear into pieces of varying sizes.
Discard the outer leaves of the radicchio, separate the rest, wash and pat dry and tear into large, generous strips. Toss with 1 tbs olive oil, a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon.
Slice the tomatoes into rounds and season.
Arrange the bread, radicchio, tomato and ham onto individual plates and drizzle over the Caesar dressing. Formidable!
FRIED HALLOUMI SALAD
My daughter loves halloumi and I often just fry a few slices to add to a salad of fresh leaves, herbs, mint, finely sliced onions steeped for half an hour in freshly squeezed lemon juice, and kalamata olives instead of feta. To ring the changes, I got this recipe from Hugh F-W's Guardian Weekend Column because I have loved the addition of flaming, smoky paprika ever since we lived in Madrid.
Serves 4
1 small red onion, very finely sliced
150g cucumber, cut into chunks
200g cherry tomatoes, halved
50 g kalamata olives, stoned
large handful mint leaves, roughly shredded
large handful flat leaf parsley leaves
50g plain flour
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
250g halloumi cheese, cut into 8 slices
2 tbs rapeseed or olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the dressing
1 tsp clear honey
juice half lemon
1 small garlic clove, crushed
1 pinch dried chilli flakes
1 pinch sea salt
3 tbs rapeseed or olive oil
First, make the dressing. Stir together the honey, lemon juice, garlic, chilli flakes and salt until well combined, then whisk in the oil. In a large bowl, toss together the onion, cucumber, tomatoes, olives, mint and parsley.
In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, paprika and some salt and pepper. Moisten the halloumi slices slightly with water, then press into the seasoned flour and shake off any excess. Heat the oil in a large frying pan and fry the halloumi over a medium heat for about two minutes on each side, until golden and slightly softened on the inside.
Toss the salad vegetables with the dressing, turning them over with your hands to make sure everything is lightly coated. Divide the salad between four plates, put two pieces of hot halloumi on each one and serve immediately. The result is a feast of fabulous colour for the eyes as well as the stomach. Bon appetit!
Salads are the order of the day because the more you cut, the more they come. Whilst the variety and quality of lettuce in France is far superior to those available in the UK, I cannot understand why so many people don't grow their own. I am the world's laziest gardener but even I feel a huge sense of pride when I see the fruits of my minimal labours. A packet of seed [well, only part of one], a quick transfer from seed trays to 'potager', followed by an instant manicure, a splash of water and Bob's votre oncle! Nothing could be simpler and the ensuing taste sensation is exponentially disproportionate to the work involved. There is nothing better for one's health than a diet of sunshine and home grown salads.
SIMPLE GOAT'S CHEESE SALAD
I like to use the little baby 'crottins' from local artisans who sell on the Saturday morning market in St Girons, but you can use 'bouches', cut into 2cm slices, from the supermarket. You can use either walnuts and walnut oil, or hazlenuts and hazelnut oil, but not a combination unless you like your flavours muddied.
Serves 4
4 'crottins' of individual soft goat's cheese, or 4 slices cut from a 'bouche de chevre'
couple sprigs fresh thyme from the 'potager'
200g salad leaves
50g walnuts or hazlenuts
4 slices 'flute' [baguettes are generally too small in diameter]
olive oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the vinaigrette
3 tbs walnut or hazlenut oil
1 tbs white wine vinegar
1 clove garlic, crushed
squeeze fresh lemon juice
salt and black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200C.
Place the 'crottins' on a baking tray with either half a walnut each and a few thyme leaves, or a few crushed hazlenuts and thyme leaves, and drizzle with a little olive oil. Season with salt and black pepper and bake for 5-6 minutes until warmed through but not melted.
Crush remaining nuts in the mortar with a pestle.
Wash and spin the lettuce leaves, put in a bowl and add the crushed nuts.
Toast the 'flute' slices until golden brown.
Put the walnut or hazlenut oil into a jar, with the vinegar, garlic, lemon, salt and pepper and shake well to combine. Drizzle some over salad leaves and nuts and toss together.
To serve, arrange the salad leaves on individual plates [I like blue ones for salad!] and place a toasted crouton on each. Top with the hot goat's cheeses and spoon over the remaining vinaigrette to serve. C'est tres simple. Voila!
SKYE GYNGELL'S CAESAR SALAD DRESSING
Ever since we lived in St Margaret's and bought our garden plants from the Petersham Nurseries, I have loved Skye's deceptively simple ways with food - she is the queen of fresh.
Serves 4
2 organic free range egg yolks
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 tsp powdered mustard
4 very good quality anchovies [from Collioure close to the Spanish border, if you can get them - worth the trip just for a couple of jars and a stunning day out!]
juice 1/2 [half] lemon
200mls extra virgin olive oil [the best]
60 g freshly grated parmesan [you can get it from Mme Gilbert or from the cheese counter in the St Lizier 'Les Mousquetaires']
1 generous tbsp creme fraiche
Method
Place the yolks, garlic, mustard, anchovies and lemon juice into a food processor and turn on. Slowly pour the oil through the funnel in the top, blending until smooth. Tip into a bowl and stir in the parmesan and creme fresh. The finished dressing should fall easily from a spoon; if it is too thick, loosen with a little water. Set aside for the salad of your choice.
SALAD OF TORN BREAD, BAYONNE HAM, TOMATOES AND CAESAR DRESSING
4 slices 'pain de campagne', 2.5cms thick
1 clove garlic peeled
30ml extra virgin olive oil plus 1 tbsp
1 raddicchio [from 'Tutti-Frutti' in St Girons]
squeeze of lemon
4 firm green tomatoes [there should be some on the tomato plants in the 'potager'], or red or yellow ones
8 very fine slices bayonne ham
Method
Grill the bread on both sides until golden brown. Whilst it is still warm, gently rub with the garlic clove and drizzle over the olive oil. Tear into pieces of varying sizes.
Discard the outer leaves of the radicchio, separate the rest, wash and pat dry and tear into large, generous strips. Toss with 1 tbs olive oil, a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon.
Slice the tomatoes into rounds and season.
Arrange the bread, radicchio, tomato and ham onto individual plates and drizzle over the Caesar dressing. Formidable!
FRIED HALLOUMI SALAD
My daughter loves halloumi and I often just fry a few slices to add to a salad of fresh leaves, herbs, mint, finely sliced onions steeped for half an hour in freshly squeezed lemon juice, and kalamata olives instead of feta. To ring the changes, I got this recipe from Hugh F-W's Guardian Weekend Column because I have loved the addition of flaming, smoky paprika ever since we lived in Madrid.
Serves 4
1 small red onion, very finely sliced
150g cucumber, cut into chunks
200g cherry tomatoes, halved
50 g kalamata olives, stoned
large handful mint leaves, roughly shredded
large handful flat leaf parsley leaves
50g plain flour
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
250g halloumi cheese, cut into 8 slices
2 tbs rapeseed or olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the dressing
1 tsp clear honey
juice half lemon
1 small garlic clove, crushed
1 pinch dried chilli flakes
1 pinch sea salt
3 tbs rapeseed or olive oil
First, make the dressing. Stir together the honey, lemon juice, garlic, chilli flakes and salt until well combined, then whisk in the oil. In a large bowl, toss together the onion, cucumber, tomatoes, olives, mint and parsley.
In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, paprika and some salt and pepper. Moisten the halloumi slices slightly with water, then press into the seasoned flour and shake off any excess. Heat the oil in a large frying pan and fry the halloumi over a medium heat for about two minutes on each side, until golden and slightly softened on the inside.
Toss the salad vegetables with the dressing, turning them over with your hands to make sure everything is lightly coated. Divide the salad between four plates, put two pieces of hot halloumi on each one and serve immediately. The result is a feast of fabulous colour for the eyes as well as the stomach. Bon appetit!
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
Memories of Marrakech
Courtesy of my baby brother, who very kindly drove his borrowed work van full of internet purchases all the way to Bardies for me, we are now in possession of two fabulous cast iron Moroccan fire baskets. Not only will they take the chill off cooler nights dining on the terrace or under the trees, but they will also enable us to cook authentic tagines on the cast iron griddle plate that sits on the top, and many other dishes besides. I'm like a child with a new toy! Food tastes so much better in the open air and the smell of Moroccan spices wafting on the night air at Bardies will remind us of the culinary joys of the Djemaa el-Fna.
I use Moroccan spices often, especially whole cumin and coriander seeds tempered in a skillet over a medium heat until you can smell the release of their heady aromas. I then grind them fine with a pestle and mortar to add to any number of dishes or to make a 'chermoula' paste with which to marinate fish, chicken, lamb or even duck [ideally, for 24 hours]. It works better if you slash the skin first to allow the spices to penetrate the flesh.
CHERMOULA
2 tsp cumin seeds tempered and ground with 2 tsp coriander seeds
handful each fresh coriander and flat parsley leaves, chopped
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 tsp paprika
1 tsp dried or freshly grated ginger
1 red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped
juice of 1 lemon and 1 lime
100 mls olive oil
sea salt, ground black pepper
pinch cayenne pepper [optional]
Blend together in a large pestle and mortar [or a food processor, using the 'pulse' button to stop the ingredients becoming too paste-like, and use to marinade liberally. You can add other ingredients to the ground paste for extra 'texture' and a heftier marinade. Chopped black or green olives, finely chopped red or white onion, sliced spring onions or some chopped preserved lemon for an extra kick make great additions. The addition of preserved lemon is particularly good with fish and chicken.
Cook on the brazier, turning often.
SIDE DISHES
WHITE ONION, BLACK OLIVE AND LEMON SALAD
I romaine lettuce, washed and roughly torn
2 onions, finely sliced and marinated for at least 30 minutes in the juice of 2 lemons
20 black olives
handful of flat leafed parsley leaves, roughly chopped
shards of lemon peel, pared with a vegetable peeler and all pith removed
half teaspoon freshly tempered and ground cumin
half teaspoon paprika
4 tbs good quality extra virgin olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Put the lettuce, drained onions, olives and parsley leaves into a salad bowl. Whisk together the remaining ingredients, including the discarded lemon marinade from the onions, and pour over the salad when ready to serve.
WATERCRESS, GREEN OLIVE, ORANGE AND ONION SALAD
You can, of course, also use black olives and substitute watercress with wild rocket.
Large bunch watercress, thoroughly washed
5 oranges, peeled, pith removed and cut into wedges
20 green olives
2 red onions, sliced into fine rings
juice of half a lemon
4 tablespoons good quality extra virgin olive oil
half teaspoon freshly ground cumin
half teaspoon paprika
pinch ground chilli powder, or cayenne pepper
handful flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Put the salad ingredients into a bowl, then whisk together the spices, olive oil and lemon juice and pour over when ready to serve.
CARROT AND CORIANDER SALAD
500g carrots, peeled and cut into sticks
4 cloves garlic, peeled
4 tbs good, extra virgin olive oil
2 tbs cider or white wine vinegar
1 tsp freshly ground cumin
1 tsp ground paprika
sea salt and black pepper
handful fresh coriander leaves, roughly chopped
Cook the carrots with the garlic cloves until 'al dente'. Drain and remove the garlic cloves. Put the carrots into a warmed serving dish. Crush the garlic cloves and add these to the other dressing ingredients. Whisk together, pour over the warm carrots and leave at room temperature to infuse for 30 minutes. When ready to serve, sprinkle some fresh coriander leaves over the top to decorate.
CHICKEN TAGINE
The smell of a warming tagine cooking in the open air is one of the great joys of life. It has become something of a tradition at our 'Blues at Bardies' festivals, where Aline and her helpers spend the whole of Saturday afternoon slaving over massive authentic tagines while our guests immerse themselves in the music. Hers is a fragrant lamb tagine, served with masses of cous-cous and home-made flat bread. This chicken recipe is improvised from a beautiful cookery book called 'Feast Bazaar' by Barry Vera. It's light and summery and very easy.
Serves 8-10
2 whole Gers corn fed chickens, cut into 8 pieces each
120 ml olive oil
3 onions, finely chopped
5-6 garlic cloves, crushed
pinch saffron threads
1 tsp ground ginger
500 mls fresh chicken stock
2 tbs lemon juice
large bunch coriander leaves, chopped
large bunch flat leaf parsley leaves, chopped
peel of 2 preserved lemons, pith removed, rinsed well and roughly chopped
about 30 green olives
2 large jars, or tins, artichokes in brine [800g], rinsed well and cut into quarters
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat the olive oil gently in a tagine over the brazier, being very careful that the heat from the wood is not so excessive as to shatter the tagine. Add the onions and gently saute until soft. Add the garlic, saffron and ginger and stir together to coat. Add the chicken pieces and chicken stock and season to taste. Bring to the boil, then simmer for 20 minutes.
Remove the chicken breast pieces and continue to cook the rest of the chicken pieces for another 15-20 minutes, until tender, then return the breasts. Add the lemon juice, herbs, preserved lemon and olives and simmer for a further 5-8 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly. Stir in the artichokes and heat through. Scatter with coriander leaves and serve immediately.
LAMB TAGINE
Serves 6
1 tbs olive oil
500g lamb, cut into 2 cm cubes
1 onion finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, crushed
half teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
half teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 tbs fresh lemon juice
375 ml homemade chicken stock
50g dried apricots, soaked in warm water
60g raisins
salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Heat the oil in the tagine over a medium heat. Add the lamb pieces and cook for 7 or 8 minutes, until browned on all sides. Add the onion and garlic and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the onion is soft. Be careful not to burn the garlic. Add the nutmeg, cinnamon and lemon juice and cook for 1 minute.
Add the chicken stock and bring to the boil. Put the lid on the tagine and simmer slowly for at least an hour, until the meat is tender. Drain the apricots and add them to the pan with the raisins. Stir through, adding more water if necessary. Simmer for a further 20 minutes, making sure to skim off any scum that may appear on the surface. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper and serve immediately, scattered with finely chopped flat leaf parsley.
COUSCOUS
Couscous is one of the essentials of Berber cooking, made from semolina, water and flour, and it takes a lot of work! In comparison, our supermarket versions take 5 minutes and a kettle of boiling water. The combinations of flavourings are endless, with the simplest just requiring lots of fresh herbs, some good olive oil and good home made stock. Always read the instructions on the packet. I generally use medium sized grains but it doesn't really matter. I always put the dried couscous into a large bowl, add water that is on the boil and a splash of good olive oil, and cover it immediately with a clean teacloth, which I remove after 5 minutes, when I fluff up the grains with a fork.
You can add:
a tray of roasted Mediterranean vegetables
toasted pine nuts
a tin of chick peas
red peppers, roasted dry in the oven, de-skinned and de-seeded, and sliced
sun dried tomatoes
pomegranate seeds
masses of fresh mint, coriander and/ or flat leaf parsley
feta cheese
chopped raw courgette
chopped fresh tomato
chopped cucumber
chopped spring onion
raisins, sultanans, dates or chopped dried apricots
grated carrot
chopped celery
chopped fennel
.....the possibilities are endless! For the dressing, I like to add some ground cumin and coriander, and harissa paste, to the olive oil, along with fresh lime or lemon juice, sea salt and freshly ground pepper and lots of finely chopped herbs. You can also make a warming winter couscous with the addition of warm vegetables, such as celery, carrot, onion, garlic, lentils, tomatoes or chickpeas.
I use Moroccan spices often, especially whole cumin and coriander seeds tempered in a skillet over a medium heat until you can smell the release of their heady aromas. I then grind them fine with a pestle and mortar to add to any number of dishes or to make a 'chermoula' paste with which to marinate fish, chicken, lamb or even duck [ideally, for 24 hours]. It works better if you slash the skin first to allow the spices to penetrate the flesh.
CHERMOULA
2 tsp cumin seeds tempered and ground with 2 tsp coriander seeds
handful each fresh coriander and flat parsley leaves, chopped
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 tsp paprika
1 tsp dried or freshly grated ginger
1 red chilli, seeds removed and finely chopped
juice of 1 lemon and 1 lime
100 mls olive oil
sea salt, ground black pepper
pinch cayenne pepper [optional]
Blend together in a large pestle and mortar [or a food processor, using the 'pulse' button to stop the ingredients becoming too paste-like, and use to marinade liberally. You can add other ingredients to the ground paste for extra 'texture' and a heftier marinade. Chopped black or green olives, finely chopped red or white onion, sliced spring onions or some chopped preserved lemon for an extra kick make great additions. The addition of preserved lemon is particularly good with fish and chicken.
Cook on the brazier, turning often.
SIDE DISHES
WHITE ONION, BLACK OLIVE AND LEMON SALAD
I romaine lettuce, washed and roughly torn
2 onions, finely sliced and marinated for at least 30 minutes in the juice of 2 lemons
20 black olives
handful of flat leafed parsley leaves, roughly chopped
shards of lemon peel, pared with a vegetable peeler and all pith removed
half teaspoon freshly tempered and ground cumin
half teaspoon paprika
4 tbs good quality extra virgin olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Put the lettuce, drained onions, olives and parsley leaves into a salad bowl. Whisk together the remaining ingredients, including the discarded lemon marinade from the onions, and pour over the salad when ready to serve.
WATERCRESS, GREEN OLIVE, ORANGE AND ONION SALAD
You can, of course, also use black olives and substitute watercress with wild rocket.
Large bunch watercress, thoroughly washed
5 oranges, peeled, pith removed and cut into wedges
20 green olives
2 red onions, sliced into fine rings
juice of half a lemon
4 tablespoons good quality extra virgin olive oil
half teaspoon freshly ground cumin
half teaspoon paprika
pinch ground chilli powder, or cayenne pepper
handful flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Put the salad ingredients into a bowl, then whisk together the spices, olive oil and lemon juice and pour over when ready to serve.
CARROT AND CORIANDER SALAD
500g carrots, peeled and cut into sticks
4 cloves garlic, peeled
4 tbs good, extra virgin olive oil
2 tbs cider or white wine vinegar
1 tsp freshly ground cumin
1 tsp ground paprika
sea salt and black pepper
handful fresh coriander leaves, roughly chopped
Cook the carrots with the garlic cloves until 'al dente'. Drain and remove the garlic cloves. Put the carrots into a warmed serving dish. Crush the garlic cloves and add these to the other dressing ingredients. Whisk together, pour over the warm carrots and leave at room temperature to infuse for 30 minutes. When ready to serve, sprinkle some fresh coriander leaves over the top to decorate.
CHICKEN TAGINE
The smell of a warming tagine cooking in the open air is one of the great joys of life. It has become something of a tradition at our 'Blues at Bardies' festivals, where Aline and her helpers spend the whole of Saturday afternoon slaving over massive authentic tagines while our guests immerse themselves in the music. Hers is a fragrant lamb tagine, served with masses of cous-cous and home-made flat bread. This chicken recipe is improvised from a beautiful cookery book called 'Feast Bazaar' by Barry Vera. It's light and summery and very easy.
Serves 8-10
2 whole Gers corn fed chickens, cut into 8 pieces each
120 ml olive oil
3 onions, finely chopped
5-6 garlic cloves, crushed
pinch saffron threads
1 tsp ground ginger
500 mls fresh chicken stock
2 tbs lemon juice
large bunch coriander leaves, chopped
large bunch flat leaf parsley leaves, chopped
peel of 2 preserved lemons, pith removed, rinsed well and roughly chopped
about 30 green olives
2 large jars, or tins, artichokes in brine [800g], rinsed well and cut into quarters
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Heat the olive oil gently in a tagine over the brazier, being very careful that the heat from the wood is not so excessive as to shatter the tagine. Add the onions and gently saute until soft. Add the garlic, saffron and ginger and stir together to coat. Add the chicken pieces and chicken stock and season to taste. Bring to the boil, then simmer for 20 minutes.
Remove the chicken breast pieces and continue to cook the rest of the chicken pieces for another 15-20 minutes, until tender, then return the breasts. Add the lemon juice, herbs, preserved lemon and olives and simmer for a further 5-8 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly. Stir in the artichokes and heat through. Scatter with coriander leaves and serve immediately.
LAMB TAGINE
Serves 6
1 tbs olive oil
500g lamb, cut into 2 cm cubes
1 onion finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, crushed
half teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
half teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 tbs fresh lemon juice
375 ml homemade chicken stock
50g dried apricots, soaked in warm water
60g raisins
salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Heat the oil in the tagine over a medium heat. Add the lamb pieces and cook for 7 or 8 minutes, until browned on all sides. Add the onion and garlic and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the onion is soft. Be careful not to burn the garlic. Add the nutmeg, cinnamon and lemon juice and cook for 1 minute.
Add the chicken stock and bring to the boil. Put the lid on the tagine and simmer slowly for at least an hour, until the meat is tender. Drain the apricots and add them to the pan with the raisins. Stir through, adding more water if necessary. Simmer for a further 20 minutes, making sure to skim off any scum that may appear on the surface. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper and serve immediately, scattered with finely chopped flat leaf parsley.
COUSCOUS
Couscous is one of the essentials of Berber cooking, made from semolina, water and flour, and it takes a lot of work! In comparison, our supermarket versions take 5 minutes and a kettle of boiling water. The combinations of flavourings are endless, with the simplest just requiring lots of fresh herbs, some good olive oil and good home made stock. Always read the instructions on the packet. I generally use medium sized grains but it doesn't really matter. I always put the dried couscous into a large bowl, add water that is on the boil and a splash of good olive oil, and cover it immediately with a clean teacloth, which I remove after 5 minutes, when I fluff up the grains with a fork.
You can add:
a tray of roasted Mediterranean vegetables
toasted pine nuts
a tin of chick peas
red peppers, roasted dry in the oven, de-skinned and de-seeded, and sliced
sun dried tomatoes
pomegranate seeds
masses of fresh mint, coriander and/ or flat leaf parsley
feta cheese
chopped raw courgette
chopped fresh tomato
chopped cucumber
chopped spring onion
raisins, sultanans, dates or chopped dried apricots
grated carrot
chopped celery
chopped fennel
.....the possibilities are endless! For the dressing, I like to add some ground cumin and coriander, and harissa paste, to the olive oil, along with fresh lime or lemon juice, sea salt and freshly ground pepper and lots of finely chopped herbs. You can also make a warming winter couscous with the addition of warm vegetables, such as celery, carrot, onion, garlic, lentils, tomatoes or chickpeas.
Saturday, 29 May 2010
The Joys of Outdoor Dining
Our favourite lunch spot, under one of our two legendary lime trees, is in the midst of a makeover. Having removed an unsightly, crooked and gnarled old accacia tree, we were left with the perfect spot for a new summer border. After a great deal of heavy graft and much muscle removing the best part of a century's worth of creeping 'hypericum', the planting is finished and it is going to be stunning. As is always the case with major housekeeping, the areas around about, including the dining space, suddenly looked rather scruffy in comparison. Gone is the dark bark underfoot, the scourge of autumn when the piles of newly raked leaves find their way to the compost heap, to be replaced by a soft, pale gravel mix the colour of light honey. It arrives a week on Tuesday. Suddenly, the space seems bigger and brighter and perfect for cooking as well as eating.
The authentic Spanish 'plancha', which weighs a ton, is about to be moved from its location next to the house down here so that the poor cook can share in the pre-prandial conversation and 'aperros'. We have two paella pans, one for small, intimate suppers and the other for grander entertaining, the perfect way to produce the ultimate 'one pan' supper. I love to experiment with different paella recipes, depending on what's available and the tastes of one's house guests.
The authentic recipe comes from Valencia, where the area north of the Costa Blanca still has an extensive area of rice fields. Rabbit and chicken forms the basis of this recipe, with the addition of some ripe chopped fresh tomatoes, white lima beans and wide green beans, but no fish. A seafood paella would be an entirely different dish. It is only us 'sangria' fuelled tourists that like to mix the two! I am as guilty as the next person in enjoying the thrill of 'mix and match' paellas.
My basic recipe for 8-10 people would consist, more or less, of two corn-fed chickens, chopped into 8 pieces each [or 2 chicken thighs per person if you can't be faffed to chop up whole chickens], half a kilo of prawns, half a kilo of mussels and half a kilo of clams, if you can find them. Sadly, having developed a really nasty allergy to squid, camping on a beach in Paros in 1976, neither of us is able to stomach the addition of this delicious ingredient. I thoroughly recommend calamares if you are not so adversely afflicted!
BASIC RECIPE
2 Gers corn-fed chickens, jointed [or 2 medium sized rabbits, jointed]
500g large prawns, heads removed and de-veined. Cook the heads in a little water and bash down with a potato masher to extract juices. Strain and reserve.
500g mussels, de-bearded and thoroughly scrubbed
500g scrubbed clams
500 g calamares, optional
2 large Spanish onions, chopped
1 head garlic, individual cloves finely chopped
2 red chillies, finely chopped
glass dry sherry
pinch saffron threads
150g green beans, topped and tailed and cut in half
bag frozen peas
good pinch sweet paprika
olive oil [non-virgin], enough to cover the base of the pan
approximately 2 litres homemade chicken stock [equal to double the quantity of rice person]
half a mug Spanish paella rice per person
4 freshly chopped tomatoes
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 whole prawns, added just before the end of cooking to warm through to serve
2 lemons cut into wedges to serve
black olives to serve, optional
masses of flat leaf parsley to serve
Basic method
Heat the oil and fry the meat until lightly browned. Add the onion, garlic and copped chillies and cook gently for a few minutes. Make a space in the middle for the chopped tomatoes and cook quickly, until they resemble a rough paste. Add the rice, saffron, sherry, strained juices from the prawn heads, paprika and chicken stock and leave to cook undisturbed. Make sure all the rice is covered with liquid.
After 10 minutes, fold in the green beans, prawns, mussels and clams. After 15 minutes, add the frozen peas.
Continue cooking until most of the liquid has been absorbed. Season to taste.
Remove from the heat and allow to stand for 10 minutes, covered in cooking parchment.
Decorate with lemon wedges, black olives if desired, and flat leaf parsley before allowing everyone to dive in! Delicious!
ALTERNATIVE /ADDITIONAL INGREDIENTS
Monkfish, scallops, lobster [if you're feeling flush!], mixed white fish, squid
Serrano ham and/or chorizo
Artichoke hearts, red/green/yellow peppers, red bell peppers, green chillies, mushrooms, juicy tomatoes, asparagus
Broad beans, white beans
Arroz negro instead of regular paella rice
Hot chilli flakes
Sherry, thyme, basil
Butter and Manchego or Parmesan cheese
Rosemary, cumin, oregano
Black and green olives
The authentic Spanish 'plancha', which weighs a ton, is about to be moved from its location next to the house down here so that the poor cook can share in the pre-prandial conversation and 'aperros'. We have two paella pans, one for small, intimate suppers and the other for grander entertaining, the perfect way to produce the ultimate 'one pan' supper. I love to experiment with different paella recipes, depending on what's available and the tastes of one's house guests.
The authentic recipe comes from Valencia, where the area north of the Costa Blanca still has an extensive area of rice fields. Rabbit and chicken forms the basis of this recipe, with the addition of some ripe chopped fresh tomatoes, white lima beans and wide green beans, but no fish. A seafood paella would be an entirely different dish. It is only us 'sangria' fuelled tourists that like to mix the two! I am as guilty as the next person in enjoying the thrill of 'mix and match' paellas.
My basic recipe for 8-10 people would consist, more or less, of two corn-fed chickens, chopped into 8 pieces each [or 2 chicken thighs per person if you can't be faffed to chop up whole chickens], half a kilo of prawns, half a kilo of mussels and half a kilo of clams, if you can find them. Sadly, having developed a really nasty allergy to squid, camping on a beach in Paros in 1976, neither of us is able to stomach the addition of this delicious ingredient. I thoroughly recommend calamares if you are not so adversely afflicted!
BASIC RECIPE
2 Gers corn-fed chickens, jointed [or 2 medium sized rabbits, jointed]
500g large prawns, heads removed and de-veined. Cook the heads in a little water and bash down with a potato masher to extract juices. Strain and reserve.
500g mussels, de-bearded and thoroughly scrubbed
500g scrubbed clams
500 g calamares, optional
2 large Spanish onions, chopped
1 head garlic, individual cloves finely chopped
2 red chillies, finely chopped
glass dry sherry
pinch saffron threads
150g green beans, topped and tailed and cut in half
bag frozen peas
good pinch sweet paprika
olive oil [non-virgin], enough to cover the base of the pan
approximately 2 litres homemade chicken stock [equal to double the quantity of rice person]
half a mug Spanish paella rice per person
4 freshly chopped tomatoes
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 whole prawns, added just before the end of cooking to warm through to serve
2 lemons cut into wedges to serve
black olives to serve, optional
masses of flat leaf parsley to serve
Basic method
Heat the oil and fry the meat until lightly browned. Add the onion, garlic and copped chillies and cook gently for a few minutes. Make a space in the middle for the chopped tomatoes and cook quickly, until they resemble a rough paste. Add the rice, saffron, sherry, strained juices from the prawn heads, paprika and chicken stock and leave to cook undisturbed. Make sure all the rice is covered with liquid.
After 10 minutes, fold in the green beans, prawns, mussels and clams. After 15 minutes, add the frozen peas.
Continue cooking until most of the liquid has been absorbed. Season to taste.
Remove from the heat and allow to stand for 10 minutes, covered in cooking parchment.
Decorate with lemon wedges, black olives if desired, and flat leaf parsley before allowing everyone to dive in! Delicious!
ALTERNATIVE /ADDITIONAL INGREDIENTS
Monkfish, scallops, lobster [if you're feeling flush!], mixed white fish, squid
Serrano ham and/or chorizo
Artichoke hearts, red/green/yellow peppers, red bell peppers, green chillies, mushrooms, juicy tomatoes, asparagus
Broad beans, white beans
Arroz negro instead of regular paella rice
Hot chilli flakes
Sherry, thyme, basil
Butter and Manchego or Parmesan cheese
Rosemary, cumin, oregano
Black and green olives
Friday, 23 April 2010
A Spring Lunch
There is nothing for it but to have the girls for lunch, minus poor Susanna, who is stuck in Barcelona after escaping Marrakesh in the midst of the mayhem caused by the fallout from Iceland's ash. I'm afraid, at this time of year, it has to be something involving asparagus. I cannot get enough of it! All shapes, sizes, varieties qualify, but wild is the best, if you can get it. Astonishingly, it bursts forth from the earth and grows nine inches in a single day. How amazing is that?
A really good homemade vegetable or light chicken stock is essential for asparagus risotto. Don't dream of making it with anything from a cube or a tin, or be fobbed off by Marco Pierre White's sellout to a brand who shall remain nameless. How could he, I ask myself? Stock is easy to make - always use the freshest vegetables you have, peelings and stalks as well, a chicken carcass if you want, and lots of fresh herbs and seasonings [although the choices you make will greatly affect the outcome - not too strong for asparagus].
This recipe is from the lovely Ursula Ferrigno, although I also regularly use Valentina Harris's one from her 'Risotto, Risotto' book. Valentina taught me to make risotto many years ago in Lucca. The thing that I remember more than anything is the need to get the rice grains to 'crack' when you first add them to the pan - you have to listen carefully but you can definitely hear the little 'pop'. Only then will the grain absorb the liquid and swell up with flavour.
RISOTTO CON ASPARIGI SELVATICI for 4
[.....and doesn't it sound so much sexier in Italian!]
500g asparagus, trimmed and thoroughly washed
1 tbs olive oil
150g unsalted butter
6 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
350g vialone nano risotto rice [you can also use carniroli or arborio rice but this is the best and most authentic]
1 litre hot vegetable broth
7 tbs white wine
100 g freshly grated Parmesan
a handful of fresh basil leaves
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cut the tips off the asparagus and set aside. Cut the spears into 3/4 pieces.
Heat the oil and butter together in a deep sided saute pan. Saute the shallots over a low heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the chopped asparagus spears and cook over a low heat for about 4 minutes, then add the rice. Mix so that all the grains are coated.
Add 3 tbs of hot broth and stir until absorbed. Add the wine and continue stirring until you need more liquid. Add the hot broth a ladleful at a time, stirring well between each addition, and not adding more until the last ladleful has been absorbed. Continue until all the stock has been absorbed and the rice is creamy. This should take 18 - 20 minutes Add the asparagus tips about 5 minutes before the end of cooking.
Stir in the cheese, salt, pepper and basil, place the lid on the pan and leave to rest for 1 minute.
You could have a peppery rocket salad with this with, perhaps, a citrus dressing to contrast with the creaminess of the risotto.
Fantastico!
RHUBARB CRUMBLE for 6-8
My friend Simone gave me some stems of her delicious rhubarb, fresh from her 'potager'. I have to say that I love rhubarb stewed with a little grated fresh ginger and sugar, cooled and then put into a glass and chilled with some Greek yoghurt on top and coated with cinnamon sugar, crushed hazlenuts and a few little pieces of stem ginger. A crumble, though, along with a 'fool', is the definitive rhubarb pud.
700g new season rhubarb
50g organic caster sugar
2 tsp grated fresh ginger
Stew the fruit gently until almost 'al dente'. Taste for sweetness. You could add some chopped stem ginger and a little of the syrup at this stage if you fancy. Transfer to an ovenproof dish and allow to cool whilst you make the crumble. preheat the oven to 180C/ 350F/ gas 4.
50g butter
100g unbleached white flour
50g cinnamon sugar
50g ground whole almonds, skins left on [I find a coffee grinder does the trick]
Rub the butter into the flour, rubbing with your fingers up to the palms of your hands, until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Then add the sugar and ground almonds and lift through. Sprinkle this mixture on top of the rhubarb and bake for 30/ 40 minutes.
Whip some cream until just soft and fold in a dessertspoonful of 'Disarrono', which used to be called 'Amaretto', to serve.
A good cup of expresso is all you need to finish [and perhaps a teeny glass of 'Disarrono' too!].
Bon appetito!
A really good homemade vegetable or light chicken stock is essential for asparagus risotto. Don't dream of making it with anything from a cube or a tin, or be fobbed off by Marco Pierre White's sellout to a brand who shall remain nameless. How could he, I ask myself? Stock is easy to make - always use the freshest vegetables you have, peelings and stalks as well, a chicken carcass if you want, and lots of fresh herbs and seasonings [although the choices you make will greatly affect the outcome - not too strong for asparagus].
This recipe is from the lovely Ursula Ferrigno, although I also regularly use Valentina Harris's one from her 'Risotto, Risotto' book. Valentina taught me to make risotto many years ago in Lucca. The thing that I remember more than anything is the need to get the rice grains to 'crack' when you first add them to the pan - you have to listen carefully but you can definitely hear the little 'pop'. Only then will the grain absorb the liquid and swell up with flavour.
RISOTTO CON ASPARIGI SELVATICI for 4
[.....and doesn't it sound so much sexier in Italian!]
500g asparagus, trimmed and thoroughly washed
1 tbs olive oil
150g unsalted butter
6 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
350g vialone nano risotto rice [you can also use carniroli or arborio rice but this is the best and most authentic]
1 litre hot vegetable broth
7 tbs white wine
100 g freshly grated Parmesan
a handful of fresh basil leaves
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cut the tips off the asparagus and set aside. Cut the spears into 3/4 pieces.
Heat the oil and butter together in a deep sided saute pan. Saute the shallots over a low heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the chopped asparagus spears and cook over a low heat for about 4 minutes, then add the rice. Mix so that all the grains are coated.
Add 3 tbs of hot broth and stir until absorbed. Add the wine and continue stirring until you need more liquid. Add the hot broth a ladleful at a time, stirring well between each addition, and not adding more until the last ladleful has been absorbed. Continue until all the stock has been absorbed and the rice is creamy. This should take 18 - 20 minutes Add the asparagus tips about 5 minutes before the end of cooking.
Stir in the cheese, salt, pepper and basil, place the lid on the pan and leave to rest for 1 minute.
You could have a peppery rocket salad with this with, perhaps, a citrus dressing to contrast with the creaminess of the risotto.
Fantastico!
RHUBARB CRUMBLE for 6-8
My friend Simone gave me some stems of her delicious rhubarb, fresh from her 'potager'. I have to say that I love rhubarb stewed with a little grated fresh ginger and sugar, cooled and then put into a glass and chilled with some Greek yoghurt on top and coated with cinnamon sugar, crushed hazlenuts and a few little pieces of stem ginger. A crumble, though, along with a 'fool', is the definitive rhubarb pud.
700g new season rhubarb
50g organic caster sugar
2 tsp grated fresh ginger
Stew the fruit gently until almost 'al dente'. Taste for sweetness. You could add some chopped stem ginger and a little of the syrup at this stage if you fancy. Transfer to an ovenproof dish and allow to cool whilst you make the crumble. preheat the oven to 180C/ 350F/ gas 4.
50g butter
100g unbleached white flour
50g cinnamon sugar
50g ground whole almonds, skins left on [I find a coffee grinder does the trick]
Rub the butter into the flour, rubbing with your fingers up to the palms of your hands, until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Then add the sugar and ground almonds and lift through. Sprinkle this mixture on top of the rhubarb and bake for 30/ 40 minutes.
Whip some cream until just soft and fold in a dessertspoonful of 'Disarrono', which used to be called 'Amaretto', to serve.
A good cup of expresso is all you need to finish [and perhaps a teeny glass of 'Disarrono' too!].
Bon appetito!
Wild Food
Wild! I'm so cross I can't be at Bardies this week because of the ash fallout from Mount Unpronounceable. I was going to plant my French Sorrel [Rumex scutatus], my Salad Rocket [Eruca sativa], Chervil [Anthriscus cerefolium], as well as my 'Kelvedon Wonder' peas and regular green dwarf French beans interspersed with 'Borlotto Firetongue' red French beans. I was also going to do some serious cooking for my garden helpers, Sarah and Pasqual, and Tim and Tina. This is always such a busy time of year in the garden, and also the most exciting.
One thing I love to make at this time of year is Nettle Soup. At Bardies, I can make or freeze masses and feel sanctimonious at the same time. Instead, I have been collecting them from my riverside walks in Laverstock with Charlie, our dog. At this time of year, they are prolific everywhere in the countryside. Sadly, they are ignored by almost everyone as a nutritious and tasty food source. My Irish ancestors would have understood the health benefits, as well as the expediency in famine raged lean times, swearing blind that eating nettles in May purified the blood. Talking of the Irish, I learnt this recipe on a foraging course with the divine Darina Allen at Ballymaloe, near Shanagarry, west of Cork.
NETTLE SOUP for 6
45g butter
285g potatoes
110g onions, chopped
110g leeks, chopped
rock salt and ground black pepper
1 litre good homemade chicken stock
140g young nettles, washed and chopped [pick them with gloves on!]
150ml full fat milk
Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan and, when it foams, add the potatoes, onions and leeks, tossing them until they are well coated. Season generously. Cover with a paper lid [to keep in the steam] and put the saucepan lid on. Sweat gently for 10 minutes until the vegetables are soft but not coloured.
Discard the paper lid and add the chicken stock. Boil gently until the vegetables are just cooked, then add the washed and chopped nettle leaves [watch out for volcanic ash!]. Simmer uncovered for just a few minutes. Do not overcook! Add the creamy milk, cool slightly and put in the blender. Taste and adjust seasoning if desired. Serve hot [preferably with Darina's cheesy muffins or brown soda bread!].
CHEESY MUFFINS - makes 12-14
225g plain white flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 [half] tsp salt
pinch cayenne pepper
2 organic eggs
225mls milk [or buttermilk, yoghurt or sour cream]
10g caster sugar
75mls sunflower oil
225mls grated cheese [ I like to crumble a little bit of Roquefort into a mix of varieties, depending on what's in the fridge]
Preheat the oven to 200C/ 400F/ gas 6
Mix the flour, baking powder, salt and cayenne in a bowl. In another bowl, whisk the eggs with the milk, yoghurt or sour cream. Pour the liquid into the dry ingredients and stir to barely combine. Do not overmix or you will have heavy, tough muffins. Gently fold in the grated cheese and spoon into muffin cases in a muffin tray. Bake for 20 minutes or until pale golden brown. Cool a little on a wire rack and serve with the Nettle Soup whilst still warm.
A divine and impressive lunch, followed by nothing more than fresh fruit.
One thing I love to make at this time of year is Nettle Soup. At Bardies, I can make or freeze masses and feel sanctimonious at the same time. Instead, I have been collecting them from my riverside walks in Laverstock with Charlie, our dog. At this time of year, they are prolific everywhere in the countryside. Sadly, they are ignored by almost everyone as a nutritious and tasty food source. My Irish ancestors would have understood the health benefits, as well as the expediency in famine raged lean times, swearing blind that eating nettles in May purified the blood. Talking of the Irish, I learnt this recipe on a foraging course with the divine Darina Allen at Ballymaloe, near Shanagarry, west of Cork.
NETTLE SOUP for 6
45g butter
285g potatoes
110g onions, chopped
110g leeks, chopped
rock salt and ground black pepper
1 litre good homemade chicken stock
140g young nettles, washed and chopped [pick them with gloves on!]
150ml full fat milk
Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan and, when it foams, add the potatoes, onions and leeks, tossing them until they are well coated. Season generously. Cover with a paper lid [to keep in the steam] and put the saucepan lid on. Sweat gently for 10 minutes until the vegetables are soft but not coloured.
Discard the paper lid and add the chicken stock. Boil gently until the vegetables are just cooked, then add the washed and chopped nettle leaves [watch out for volcanic ash!]. Simmer uncovered for just a few minutes. Do not overcook! Add the creamy milk, cool slightly and put in the blender. Taste and adjust seasoning if desired. Serve hot [preferably with Darina's cheesy muffins or brown soda bread!].
CHEESY MUFFINS - makes 12-14
225g plain white flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 [half] tsp salt
pinch cayenne pepper
2 organic eggs
225mls milk [or buttermilk, yoghurt or sour cream]
10g caster sugar
75mls sunflower oil
225mls grated cheese [ I like to crumble a little bit of Roquefort into a mix of varieties, depending on what's in the fridge]
Preheat the oven to 200C/ 400F/ gas 6
Mix the flour, baking powder, salt and cayenne in a bowl. In another bowl, whisk the eggs with the milk, yoghurt or sour cream. Pour the liquid into the dry ingredients and stir to barely combine. Do not overmix or you will have heavy, tough muffins. Gently fold in the grated cheese and spoon into muffin cases in a muffin tray. Bake for 20 minutes or until pale golden brown. Cool a little on a wire rack and serve with the Nettle Soup whilst still warm.
A divine and impressive lunch, followed by nothing more than fresh fruit.
Monday, 12 April 2010
Asparagus Tart
My favourite time of the year at Bardies starts with the arrival of the new season's asparagus. The French seem to prefer the delicate white varieties, with their complex, subtle flavours, but I like the good, wholesome, old fashioned green ones which always look so perfect on a plate when mixed with anything made with egg yolks. Gently steamed young asparagus spears, dunked into a silky, sunny, home-made Hollandaise sauce and eaten with one's fingers, is one of the wonders of the world, a veritable marriage made in heaven. A close second, tied with asparagus risotto, is our great lunchtime Spring staple, Asparagus Tart.
The French use 'pate brisee', their equivalent to our shortcrust pastry, which, like ours, has a high fat content to make the pastry 'short'. You can easily cheat by buying it in a packet [but do make sure that it is 100% 'pur beurre'] from the chill cabinet in 'Intermarche'. The sublime combination of asparagus, egg yolks and Parmesan will amply satiate the tastebuds and only the most sophisticated, and pedantic, lunch guests will ever notice. Sometimes, though, it's just so much more simple to bung the pastry ingredients into the food processor than to schlep down to St Girons for the pre-processed, and inevitably inferior, ready-made product.
ASPARAGUS TART
FOR THE PASTRY
120g organic plain white flour
60g cold butter
good pinch fine sea salt
2 tbs iced water
1 egg yolk
Sift the flour and salt into the food processor then quickly chop the butter into small pieces and place on top. Using the pulse button, process for 25 seconds. Add 1 tablespoon of cold water through the funnel on top and pulse. Add second tablespoonful and pulse again. Add a little of the egg yolk and continue to pulse one step at a time until the pastry begins to cohere into a solid lump. You may need to add a tiny bit more water, as so much of pastry making depends on the quality of the flour and the ambient temperature, but do not overwork. Remove immediately, wrap in clingfilm and put in fridge for 40 minutes.
FOR THE ASPARAGUS TART
beaten egg for brushing
1 bundle of asparagus
15 fl oz creme de Normande [or 10 fluid oz milk mixed with 5 fluid oz double cream]
5 egg yolks
50g freshly grated Parmesan
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200C. Beware! The ovens at Bardies burn hot! You may need to reduce the heat - if in doubt, use an oven thermometer.
Grease a 22cm metal flan tin with butter. We also have ceramic ones in the cupboard, if you prefer. Remove the pastry from the fridge and roll out quickly on a floured work surface to fit. Put the pastry onto the rolling pin and gently lay it inside. Leave the edges rough for the moment, as they will allow for shrinkage and you can cut them off before serving. Cut a sheet of greaseproof paper big enough to cover the tart and lay it over it. Put the ceramic baking beans on top and shake them about to spread them evenly. Bake 'blind' in the oven for 10 - 12 minutes, then remove the beans and greaseproof paper and prick the pastry base with a fork. Return to the oven for 5 -6 minutes. Remove and brush with beaten egg.
Meanwhile, steam the asparagus in the asparagus steamer, stems downwards for about 5 minutes. I find that the best way to get rid of any woody stems is to hold each end of the spear in two hands and allow the stem to naturally snap in half when gently put under pressure, a really useful tip from my mother-in-law. Remove the spears from the steamer basket and allow to cool. Chop stems into 2 cm pieces but leave the heads whole.
Beat the cream and egg yolks together, fold in the grated Parmesan and season well. Place the asparagus evenly into the pastry case and pour the cream mixture on top. Bake for about 30 minutes until nicely puffed up and browned at the edges.
Remove from the oven and leave to rest for 10 minutes [a too-hot tart doesn't taste of anything!]. Using a small sharp knife cut off the rough edges. Slip the tart out of the tin by placing it on an upside down mug and sliding the tin downwards away from the round base. Serve with a tangy, crunchy salad - perhaps a tomato and red onion salad, the sliced onions marinated in freshly squeezed lemon juice for 20 minutes or so beforehand, or a green salad with a citrus dressing. I really like to serve this on blue china for even more colour - a feast for the eyes as well.
Bon appetit, mes amis!
POSTCRIPT
Whilst rummaging around a charity shop in Salisbury yesterday, I found the lovely Allegra McEvedy's 'Economy Gastronomy', co-written with Paul Merrett, for £2.50. I wouldn't have paid £20 for it but like Allegra's great G2 column in 'The Guardian', it's full of really useful, no-nonsense, spicy and hearty dishes to die for. I can vouchsafe her never fail Hollandaise recipe, which we had with lightly smoked salmon fillets and new season's Hertfordshire asparagus.
ALLEGRA McEVEDY'S NEVER FAIL HOLLANDAISE SAUCE
150 g salted butter
2 egg yolks
1/2 tbs [a half tablespoon] Dijon mustard
juice 1/2 [half] a lemon
salt and white pepper
METHOD
Melt the butter for the Hollandaise. Whizz the egg yolks, mustard and lemon juice in the food processor for a couple of minutes until light and fluffy. Once the butter has melted, bring it to a rapid boil, then immediately drip feed it into the whirring food processor. As soon as it's all incorporated, tip the sauce into a bowl and season to taste. Voila!
The French use 'pate brisee', their equivalent to our shortcrust pastry, which, like ours, has a high fat content to make the pastry 'short'. You can easily cheat by buying it in a packet [but do make sure that it is 100% 'pur beurre'] from the chill cabinet in 'Intermarche'. The sublime combination of asparagus, egg yolks and Parmesan will amply satiate the tastebuds and only the most sophisticated, and pedantic, lunch guests will ever notice. Sometimes, though, it's just so much more simple to bung the pastry ingredients into the food processor than to schlep down to St Girons for the pre-processed, and inevitably inferior, ready-made product.
ASPARAGUS TART
FOR THE PASTRY
120g organic plain white flour
60g cold butter
good pinch fine sea salt
2 tbs iced water
1 egg yolk
Sift the flour and salt into the food processor then quickly chop the butter into small pieces and place on top. Using the pulse button, process for 25 seconds. Add 1 tablespoon of cold water through the funnel on top and pulse. Add second tablespoonful and pulse again. Add a little of the egg yolk and continue to pulse one step at a time until the pastry begins to cohere into a solid lump. You may need to add a tiny bit more water, as so much of pastry making depends on the quality of the flour and the ambient temperature, but do not overwork. Remove immediately, wrap in clingfilm and put in fridge for 40 minutes.
FOR THE ASPARAGUS TART
beaten egg for brushing
1 bundle of asparagus
15 fl oz creme de Normande [or 10 fluid oz milk mixed with 5 fluid oz double cream]
5 egg yolks
50g freshly grated Parmesan
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200C. Beware! The ovens at Bardies burn hot! You may need to reduce the heat - if in doubt, use an oven thermometer.
Grease a 22cm metal flan tin with butter. We also have ceramic ones in the cupboard, if you prefer. Remove the pastry from the fridge and roll out quickly on a floured work surface to fit. Put the pastry onto the rolling pin and gently lay it inside. Leave the edges rough for the moment, as they will allow for shrinkage and you can cut them off before serving. Cut a sheet of greaseproof paper big enough to cover the tart and lay it over it. Put the ceramic baking beans on top and shake them about to spread them evenly. Bake 'blind' in the oven for 10 - 12 minutes, then remove the beans and greaseproof paper and prick the pastry base with a fork. Return to the oven for 5 -6 minutes. Remove and brush with beaten egg.
Meanwhile, steam the asparagus in the asparagus steamer, stems downwards for about 5 minutes. I find that the best way to get rid of any woody stems is to hold each end of the spear in two hands and allow the stem to naturally snap in half when gently put under pressure, a really useful tip from my mother-in-law. Remove the spears from the steamer basket and allow to cool. Chop stems into 2 cm pieces but leave the heads whole.
Beat the cream and egg yolks together, fold in the grated Parmesan and season well. Place the asparagus evenly into the pastry case and pour the cream mixture on top. Bake for about 30 minutes until nicely puffed up and browned at the edges.
Remove from the oven and leave to rest for 10 minutes [a too-hot tart doesn't taste of anything!]. Using a small sharp knife cut off the rough edges. Slip the tart out of the tin by placing it on an upside down mug and sliding the tin downwards away from the round base. Serve with a tangy, crunchy salad - perhaps a tomato and red onion salad, the sliced onions marinated in freshly squeezed lemon juice for 20 minutes or so beforehand, or a green salad with a citrus dressing. I really like to serve this on blue china for even more colour - a feast for the eyes as well.
Bon appetit, mes amis!
POSTCRIPT
Whilst rummaging around a charity shop in Salisbury yesterday, I found the lovely Allegra McEvedy's 'Economy Gastronomy', co-written with Paul Merrett, for £2.50. I wouldn't have paid £20 for it but like Allegra's great G2 column in 'The Guardian', it's full of really useful, no-nonsense, spicy and hearty dishes to die for. I can vouchsafe her never fail Hollandaise recipe, which we had with lightly smoked salmon fillets and new season's Hertfordshire asparagus.
ALLEGRA McEVEDY'S NEVER FAIL HOLLANDAISE SAUCE
150 g salted butter
2 egg yolks
1/2 tbs [a half tablespoon] Dijon mustard
juice 1/2 [half] a lemon
salt and white pepper
METHOD
Melt the butter for the Hollandaise. Whizz the egg yolks, mustard and lemon juice in the food processor for a couple of minutes until light and fluffy. Once the butter has melted, bring it to a rapid boil, then immediately drip feed it into the whirring food processor. As soon as it's all incorporated, tip the sauce into a bowl and season to taste. Voila!
Saturday, 10 April 2010
Lola 'Two Blogs' Vardigans?
Well, this is a turn up for the books! Not satisfied with just one blog, 'Blog at Bardies', I've now decided in a mad moment of excess, to do a John Prescott. Sorry for the pretension [or possibly vanity?] and general greed, but my darling husband's comment about my last 'Blog at Bardies' posting was, "Yes, Darling. Very good. If someone wants to read about hot cross buns and chocolate cake!" It was a blog about Easter chez nous after all, and 'Paques' is about food, is it not? I have to confess to being a little taken aback but it got me thinking about creating a separate blog just about food. The upside of living part of the year in a remote part of the French countryside is that there is not much else to do, before a long, lazy swim and a glass of chilled Tariquet, but search out local produce and fill one's time and one's kitchen with the joys of one's culinary efforts.
Over the fifteen years that we have now been in the Ariege, ten of them at our beloved Chateau de Bardies, I have cooked thousands of meals, from casual garden lunches under our two enormous lime trees, to grand 'Nouvelle Annee' dinners with our inherited family crested china dinner service and silver ware. The house is often full to bursting, with upwards of twenty souls in situ and, when we run our bi-annual blues, festival heaving at every seam. We love to have campers in the field, especially youngsters who bring a new lease of life to this creaky old edifice [the house, not me!]. Without fail, they all have voracious appetites after a day or two in our Pyrenean air. Being at five hundred meters above sea level, and in the foothills of such majestic mountains, we are spoilt with grass reared cattle, sheep and goats and heavenly local cheeses, charcuterie, conserves and croustardes [our local pastry topped savoury and sweet 'pies'].
We are a working farm so the needs of nature dominate. I love the changes of the seasons although it has to be said that really, we have only two. The long, hard winters have evolved a cuisine of hearty, warming fare to lift even the darkest of days. In total contrast, the heat and brilliance of late spring and summer, when often the snow on the mountain tops remains to remind us of what we have left behind well into early summer, awakens the tastebuds to the endless possibilities for abundant fresh produce, fish from the local rivers and the fruits of field and forest. This is foraging country and there is nothing in this world more enjoyable than making a delicious lunch from a basketful of hand collected finds. Only in France will a pharmacist help you to sort through your wild mushrooms!
We already have a cookbook of tried and tested recipes at Bardies, a very basic tome at present consisting of my typed up scribbles of personally adapted recipes from long forgotten cookery writers. I am quite proud of it despite its lack of photographs. This is partly due to always forgetting to bring my camera, even if I could work out how to upload. It is also because my great photographer friend, Mark Bottomley, and I really need to eat and photograph our way through a mountain of food and I am currently desperately trying to shed, not gain, pounds. There is no short cut, I'm afraid. You have to cook it to photograph it!
Sooooooooo, I have now decided to cook and photograph as I go. I've managed all by myself to get the blog up, so now all I need to do is to badger darling daughter, or son, or 'hubbie', to show me how to upload photos from my trusty little Lumix. Sorry, Mark, in the meantime. We will await your fabulous professional input, which will undoudtedly transform my humble offerings into the culinary equivalent of Annie Liebovitz. It is to be an ongoing blog where I hope to talk about Ariege food sources, local market producers, wine growers, recipes and my infant 'potager'. The plan is to put up recipes on an ongoing basis, starting the week after next. I am sorry to be a bit late for my hot cross bun recipe [cribbed from master Bath baker, Richard Bertinet], our family celebration chocolate almond torte recipe [made 'toute seule' by my daughter under my supervision] and my asparagus risotto [made for Easter Monday with the new season's asparagus].
As asparagus will be with us for a good while yet, I think we shall start with that. Somehow, the arrival of the new asparagus really heralds the arrival of the new season for me. We gorge ourselves on it until there is not a spear to be found anywhere [except those tasteless, imported varieties which should be desisted at all costs!] and then, sated, we move on to indulge in the other great luxuries of summer. I greatly look forward to sharing my humble offerings with anyone at all who is interested in 'Food at Bardies'. It will be a great adventure and who knows where it will take us? On y va!
Over the fifteen years that we have now been in the Ariege, ten of them at our beloved Chateau de Bardies, I have cooked thousands of meals, from casual garden lunches under our two enormous lime trees, to grand 'Nouvelle Annee' dinners with our inherited family crested china dinner service and silver ware. The house is often full to bursting, with upwards of twenty souls in situ and, when we run our bi-annual blues, festival heaving at every seam. We love to have campers in the field, especially youngsters who bring a new lease of life to this creaky old edifice [the house, not me!]. Without fail, they all have voracious appetites after a day or two in our Pyrenean air. Being at five hundred meters above sea level, and in the foothills of such majestic mountains, we are spoilt with grass reared cattle, sheep and goats and heavenly local cheeses, charcuterie, conserves and croustardes [our local pastry topped savoury and sweet 'pies'].
We are a working farm so the needs of nature dominate. I love the changes of the seasons although it has to be said that really, we have only two. The long, hard winters have evolved a cuisine of hearty, warming fare to lift even the darkest of days. In total contrast, the heat and brilliance of late spring and summer, when often the snow on the mountain tops remains to remind us of what we have left behind well into early summer, awakens the tastebuds to the endless possibilities for abundant fresh produce, fish from the local rivers and the fruits of field and forest. This is foraging country and there is nothing in this world more enjoyable than making a delicious lunch from a basketful of hand collected finds. Only in France will a pharmacist help you to sort through your wild mushrooms!
We already have a cookbook of tried and tested recipes at Bardies, a very basic tome at present consisting of my typed up scribbles of personally adapted recipes from long forgotten cookery writers. I am quite proud of it despite its lack of photographs. This is partly due to always forgetting to bring my camera, even if I could work out how to upload. It is also because my great photographer friend, Mark Bottomley, and I really need to eat and photograph our way through a mountain of food and I am currently desperately trying to shed, not gain, pounds. There is no short cut, I'm afraid. You have to cook it to photograph it!
Sooooooooo, I have now decided to cook and photograph as I go. I've managed all by myself to get the blog up, so now all I need to do is to badger darling daughter, or son, or 'hubbie', to show me how to upload photos from my trusty little Lumix. Sorry, Mark, in the meantime. We will await your fabulous professional input, which will undoudtedly transform my humble offerings into the culinary equivalent of Annie Liebovitz. It is to be an ongoing blog where I hope to talk about Ariege food sources, local market producers, wine growers, recipes and my infant 'potager'. The plan is to put up recipes on an ongoing basis, starting the week after next. I am sorry to be a bit late for my hot cross bun recipe [cribbed from master Bath baker, Richard Bertinet], our family celebration chocolate almond torte recipe [made 'toute seule' by my daughter under my supervision] and my asparagus risotto [made for Easter Monday with the new season's asparagus].
As asparagus will be with us for a good while yet, I think we shall start with that. Somehow, the arrival of the new asparagus really heralds the arrival of the new season for me. We gorge ourselves on it until there is not a spear to be found anywhere [except those tasteless, imported varieties which should be desisted at all costs!] and then, sated, we move on to indulge in the other great luxuries of summer. I greatly look forward to sharing my humble offerings with anyone at all who is interested in 'Food at Bardies'. It will be a great adventure and who knows where it will take us? On y va!
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