We experienced an avalanche in Surrey yesterday.
Of sweet chestnuts.
Piles and piles of the things in their bombastic bright green, spiked and rather aggressive jackets, they've covered the road in a number of the places Ma Pea and I have been walking. With our trusty plastic bag to hand, and humming in cheerful anticipation of our FREE edible wares, we got collecting! For MP I think there was an element of childhood glee there, it was clear that she had done this before. Like excited toddlers, we both pounced on the ominous looking spiky bundles and, as I'd never been chestnut-gathering before, she taught me how to gently scuff it with your shoe until the case bursts open to reveal three or four glossy brown chestnuts nestled inside. What treasure!
There is something incredibly satisfying about finding your own lunch. Maybe I'll become one of these outdoor scavengers, shooting squirrels and roasting them over an open fire, with a few choice funghi thrown in for good measure. I can just picture it now...or maybe I'll just stick to the aga.
The glut called for nothing less than a heavenly soup. So here it is.
Chestnut, Bacon and Potato Soup
Serves 4
Ingredients
50g Butter and glug of oil
250g bacon, cut into small cubes
1 onion, diced
3 celery sticks, diced
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 litre of stock
1 sprig fresh rosemary
3 sprigs fresh thyme
300g potato cut into small pieces
400g chestnuts
salt, pepper
If your chestnuts are fresh, wash them and make a small incision in each, putting them on a roasting tin to roast for 20 minutes at high heat, or until they have burst out of their skins. Let them cool and then peel them to remove both the outside and inside skin.
If packaged, pour boiling water over the vacuum pack, and leave for a few minutes until loosened, then cut open the top of the bag to release the chestnuts.
In a large saucepan, melt the butter and add a glug of oil, browning the bacon gently until it releases its fatty juices. Add the chopped onion, celery and garlic and soften gently for 15 minutes. Add the stock, thyme and rosemary and season well, bringing the mixture up to the boil.
Chop the chestnuts to small pieces and add them, along with the potatoes into the soup. Simmer for 20 minutes, by which time the potatoes will be butter smooth. Serve with a glug of olive oil and a generous dollop of chopped parsley.
A cracking autumn warmer.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Friday, October 17, 2008
London a la Lex: Part III
Saturday night continued…
For effect, I would normally say that we rolled out of the restaurant groaning and rubbing our bellies, but I would be lying…the main beautiful thing about eating high quality food and savouring it, is that I find you eat slower, you digest better, and all in all you don’t have that awful feeling of ‘being stuffed’ post nosh. So we could continue our night tout suite!
The poor lad was thus dragged across London to Notting Hill and a ‘good old British pub’, to meet two of my best girlfriends, and be subjected to a torrent of girly gossip and giggles. Sorry Chef. The pub though was perfect, with Alice in Wonderland tiny doorways, allowing him the chance of experiencing British ale. When wondering aloud why the ale was so warm he was informed by the Catholic priest (!?) sitting near us that it was ‘cellar temperature’ so that you could better get the flavour of the beer. I think the American was unconvinced, in spite of the fact that the news came on religious authority.
All in all, a thoroughly British day out.
Sunday
What better way to spend a Sunday than to lounge in fuggy warmth for an entire afternoon with friends, being fed dish after dish of wonderful food. The ideal excuse as well, to showcase yet another brilliantly British brainwave: The Gastropub.
Or, to be more specific the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo. The spawn of our previous night’s feasting, St John, in a flash of wisdom I pre-booked our Sunday lunch, as it is apparently the only day possible to book at A&H, which otherwise experiences hours and hours of queues. We arrived at 12.30, already hungry from a brisk walk along the Thames, and our appetite was curbed with some delightful little crispy tantalisers, anchovy paste, pate and some fresh herb concoction. Nevertheless, by the time the rest of my amigos had arrived and lunch finally commenced at gone 2pm, it is fairly safe to say the group was like a group of thin, mangy lions waiting wild-eyed to pounce on the next passerby.
Thankfully we didn’t need to resort to pack hunting, as our waitress finally approached our table bearing the first of the day’s spoils. We ate our way through a simple yet savoury menu, frolicking joyfully from one dish to the next:
This time we really did roll out of the pub, like six tottering bowling pins, very late afternoon, for a much needed post-lunch walk along the South Bank to watch the sun set. London at its best.
For effect, I would normally say that we rolled out of the restaurant groaning and rubbing our bellies, but I would be lying…the main beautiful thing about eating high quality food and savouring it, is that I find you eat slower, you digest better, and all in all you don’t have that awful feeling of ‘being stuffed’ post nosh. So we could continue our night tout suite!
The poor lad was thus dragged across London to Notting Hill and a ‘good old British pub’, to meet two of my best girlfriends, and be subjected to a torrent of girly gossip and giggles. Sorry Chef. The pub though was perfect, with Alice in Wonderland tiny doorways, allowing him the chance of experiencing British ale. When wondering aloud why the ale was so warm he was informed by the Catholic priest (!?) sitting near us that it was ‘cellar temperature’ so that you could better get the flavour of the beer. I think the American was unconvinced, in spite of the fact that the news came on religious authority.
All in all, a thoroughly British day out.
Sunday
What better way to spend a Sunday than to lounge in fuggy warmth for an entire afternoon with friends, being fed dish after dish of wonderful food. The ideal excuse as well, to showcase yet another brilliantly British brainwave: The Gastropub.
Or, to be more specific the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo. The spawn of our previous night’s feasting, St John, in a flash of wisdom I pre-booked our Sunday lunch, as it is apparently the only day possible to book at A&H, which otherwise experiences hours and hours of queues. We arrived at 12.30, already hungry from a brisk walk along the Thames, and our appetite was curbed with some delightful little crispy tantalisers, anchovy paste, pate and some fresh herb concoction. Nevertheless, by the time the rest of my amigos had arrived and lunch finally commenced at gone 2pm, it is fairly safe to say the group was like a group of thin, mangy lions waiting wild-eyed to pounce on the next passerby.
Thankfully we didn’t need to resort to pack hunting, as our waitress finally approached our table bearing the first of the day’s spoils. We ate our way through a simple yet savoury menu, frolicking joyfully from one dish to the next:
- Mussels, Cod and Saffron soup – I’m terribly fussy about my soups, as we’re all well aware, but this one, this one passed the stringent interview tests. I could almost hear the soup breathe a sigh of relief as I voiced my approval, and proceeded to revel in its rich flavours. It was creamy, thick and just filling enough to withstand the (leisurely) wait between soup and main, chunky pieces of cod and a generous dose of mussels cavorted playfully together.
- Braised Ox Cheek with buttered new potatoes and fresh horseradish – one of those occasions when I didn’t quite know what to expect from what I read on the menu, but I managed to glean some clues from our neighbouring tables. It all looked very promising indeed. All hands went eagerly and immediately on deck to clear our table and make way for the descent of an entire dark grey Le Creuset casserole. One of our table (probably, me if I'm completely honest) couldn’t bear the suspense, and grabbed the lid to open it with a flourish. All that was lacking was a drum roll and an applause, as a fragrant steam exploded jubilantly forth. It cleared like a dramatic mist to reveal a huge chunks of what were obviously the mysterious ox cheeks, in a dark, chestnut brown sauce. We tucked in. It was a novelty, this dark, succulent and exquisitely tender meat which wobbled obesely in its cloak of fat and turnip and carrot sauce. Its sidekicks were equally delightful, but in their simplicity rather than their decadence: a gangful of glossy potatoes slick with butter and cocky with their fresh parsley freckles. But it was a small, unobtrusive pot which added the finishing touch: a sneeze-inducing, eye-watering fresh horseradish sauce, made up with a tart crème fraiche.
- Watercress, St Tola and Pear – crunchy, fresh, bitter watercress; sour sweet smooth goat’s cheese and juicy slivers of pear. What better way to lift the palate post-ox?!
- Little Chocolate Pot – It was the perfect end to a perfect relationship. Hand me chocolate and it is almost like guaranteeing my undying affections. There was a collective sigh of bliss round the table. I was silent for a full two and a half minutes. Absorb the sheer magnitude of this. And it can’t have been entirely unrelated to its Lex-quietening properties that this little cuddle-in-a-pot earned even more brownie (‘scuse the pun) points from its adoring fans. Tiny and potent, a little jar of just-liquid chocolate with caramel overtones and a slightly toasted honeycomb aftertaste was topped with a thin slug of single cream, laughing in the face of any recommended daily calorie intake. It really was heavenly. Hands down the best (and no doubt one of the simplest) puds I've ever eaten that I've not cooked myself.
This time we really did roll out of the pub, like six tottering bowling pins, very late afternoon, for a much needed post-lunch walk along the South Bank to watch the sun set. London at its best.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
London a la Lex: St John Restaurant
I could barely restrain my excitement as we hopped off the tube at Farringdon on our way to St John restaurant. The restaurant is renowned throughout the land as the place to go for all that is carnivorous, and especially those bits that the butcher doesn’t waste: so the menu consists of game and gizzards, basically. I've wanted to visit for years and now finally, the perfect food 'date' and yet another opportunity to show the American some very British cuisine (more British than I had ever eaten before myself in fact). My over-eager stomach propelled us to arrive even earlier, at 6pm, than our already obscenely early booking of 6.30pm. Well, you know what they say – the early bird gets the chitterling…
The restaurant and I immediately clicked, as the waiter didn’t bat an eyelid at my slightly cheeky request of being seated early (I appealed to his human side and told him I was ‘absolutely starving’. He smiled, obviously used to dealing with ravenous loons, and showed us to our table.) Needless to say, we were the first seated in the gloriously no-fuss, industrial white dining room, on a table for two. Which wobbled. Yet another love affair commenced as our lovely Swedish waitress waltzed across to deal with the wobble, bearing chopped cork pieces to wedge underneath.
Sitting pretty, ready and raring to go, and flexing my tummy muscles at the prospect of the meat mania ahead, we eagerly scanned the paper menu. I was not disappointed, and was immediately thrown into what I call ‘The Diner's Dilemma’. i.e. I wanted to try absolutely every single thing on the menu.
Not to worry, said Chef, we’ll share some starters, then you can have a bit of a taste of a few things. (He knows me so well). There were numerous weird and wonderful dishes on the menu that I had not experienced or indeed heard of before, and I was anxious to clarify. So it was in the hopes of further polishing my food education that I asked our tall, gauche and terribly sardonic ‘water waiter’ ‘What are sprats?’. He was an amusing and peculiar mixture of the guy that croaks ‘yaaarrp’ in the movie Hot Fuzz and Farmer Bean from Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr Fox. He didn’t disappoint in living up to these descriptions when he grunted as explanation ‘fish’. Why thank you sir, that is so much clearer. Sold to the lady on the wobbly chair. Not.
Instead we went for three starters, which were positively heartstopping in their gloriousness. These were:
- Roast Marrow with parsley salad – a classic and well-known St John dish which I wanted to experience for myself. Four chunks of bone several inches long served upright on the plate, roasted and filled to brimming with their pleasurably guilty jelly-like insides. The spoonfuls of, let’s face it, fat, are whittled out of the bone, using a lobster pick, and spread on crisped, oiled sourdough bread, and topped with a crunch of sea salt. The marrow takes me right back to eating dinner with my grandad who, being a war kid, passed the lesson of ‘eating everything on one’s plate’ onto me. I blame him for my voracious eating – and slurping marrow from bones was one of our favourite joint activities! I realise I may have been a somewhat strange child... The heady richness of the marrow however is beautifully cut through by the sharp parsley salad - crunchy bitter flat parsley, finely diced shallots, capers and a biting lemon dressing. One word: scrumptious.
- Halibut, potatoes and aioli – a creamy, sumptuous fish salad. The simplicity of the dish is key, as in combination its ingredients have the potential to be overly heavy. Not this ‘un. No siree. Tender white chunks of steamed halibut mingle with new potatoes, in a light garlic, crème fraiche aioli. Whisps of rocket tease and flit whimsically throughout, like young ballet dancers in a serious ballet, lending nuttiness to the ensemble; a few artfully placed capers tweak at the end of a mouthful, balancing the creaminess of the dish. Unexpectedly good (I confess when the boy chose this I was secretly unconvinced – but all credit to him it was tasty).
- Grilled Puffball with green sauce – this was one of those points at which dining out with an experienced Chef was really useful. These guys are just so practical. Which was good as my dreamy, impractical side emerged upon tasting the first mouthful of this dish and I was, quite literally, rendered speechless. For a few seconds. Oh goodness, this was unreal. I couldn’t come up with words. I had never eaten puffball before, and I had no idea it was going to be so good. I’d seen them, these ballooning marshmallow mushrooms, both growing wild in fields and for sale at Borough Market. Being a firm advocate of quality over quantity, I was astounded that something the size of a large football can retain such an intensely pungent and earthy taste of rehydrated funghi. The boy brought me back to earth with his culinary knowledge. According to him, the half-inch thick slice of ‘shroom had been coated either side with melted butter, then grilled – hence the mesh of seared flesh across the light grey-white. The verdant sauce it was served with was an exuberant burst of fresh herbs: an intense blend of parsley, caper, lemon and fennel fronds. I had an adventure playground going on in my mouth.
And so to mains.
Chef chose Roast Lamb with white beans, and then suffered dinner envy as my perfectly petite package of Teal with Turnips (don’t worry, I didn’t know what Teal was either – it is a wild duck) paraded in front of me. He was being silly – the lamb was moist, tender and juicy pink, and the beans a comforting side. But I confess I did prefer my Teal, which was gamey rich. Being so small it requires a mere flash at the flame, to avoid drying out, which meant that as I cut in, blood spurted into the jus. Not one for the faint hearted! The turnips were cooked to butter-like tenderness, alongside whole shallots and sinful entire garlic cloves. I ate the lot, mopping the sauce up with the green tops we’d ordered on the side and muttering incoherent appreciation.
St John and I parted company a little like reluctant lovers. I know the restaurant feels the same way about me – it can’t wait to wrap me in its comforting arms and whisper sweet nothings into my ear again…’smoked eel…pheasant pie…venison offal…’ it will say. ‘Ok, I’ll do whatever you want’, I will whisper back helplessly, head over heels. I only hope we meet again soon, and I've already planned how. Half way through our meal an awed silence descended upon the by now bustling dining room. A waiter walked through, carrying aloft an entire roast suckling pig, fit for a feast and a meal for a party of sixteen or more. Watch this space, my darling St John, I'll be back.
*well, not really, but allow me a little poetic licence would you?!
London a la Lex: Part II
Saturday Morning
Frankly, London was showing off this weekend. The day broke with unashamedly glorious sunshine, almost as if the city were saying ‘right, I’m darned if another American is going to head home thinking England is gloomy, let’s put on a jolly good show’. Which meant that the whole city was out basking in the rays and chilling with cold beers, with the crowds unusually cheerful for Brits. Lucky Chef.
I can be a fairly hard tourist taskmaster, but honestly, it is purely with their best interests in mind. I’m not the sort to drag a visitor to the Tower of London, or the London Eye (yawn), but instead want them to experience some of my favourite bits of the city, which just happen to centre around the importance of some item of food or drink in hand.
With this in mind, we set off as early as was decent along the South Bank to Borough Market, arriving at 11am, and just, just in time to avoid that point at which BM becomes a seething mass of food tourists, and therefore unmoveable (/unbearable). I wasted no time in injecting Chef with a serious dose of caffeine - outstandingly good coffee from the Monmouth Coffee Company, where the mere aroma of ground beans instantly perk a tired/jetlagged/hungover (delete as appropriate) soul up. Chef chose a delightful Indonesian bean from Sumatra. I took a few sips (I’m laying off the caffeine temporarily) and I have to say it lived up to its reputation: earthy, potent, rich and roasted, and without the cloying bitter aftertaste I find I get from most coffees. Served also, I might add, in a very decent sized, small cup. Quality over quantity every day.
We lost track of time as we wandered in a state of bliss around the different market stalls, stroking beautiful glossy tomatoes, and eying up pies at Pieminister, the vast array of cheeses at Neal's Yard Dairy, olives, pasties, apples, and indulging in the various tasters that are strategically scattered about.
Borough Market is without doubt one of my favourite world markets, and I particularly showing it off to unsuspecting tourists, because of the sheer hum and buzz of energy in the air. Laughter and jokes mingle with mouthwatering wafts of baked bread, heady fumes of mulled wine and the earthy smell of mushrooms. Shopkeepers selling their carefully crafted wares – whether smooth, silky cheese or great hunks of dark chocolate, rich, spicy sausages or meaty British pies – are deep in conversation with eager customers, each party gesticulating wildly, facial expressions bursting with the excitement of potential. I find the passion in these interchanges completely contagious, and I never fail to leave without a big grin on my face (and generally a bellyful of tasters). However, keeping in mind our various eating ‘dates’ later on that day, we resisted spoiling our appetites and opted instead for one single indulgence: a scandalously good cranberry brownie from Konditor & Cook - exquisitely moist, ever-so-slightly tart, and smoothly sweet chocolatey goodness, savoured with eyes shut. A must for any brownie fiend.
Saturday Lunch
Dragging ourselves away from the market, we hitched a ride up to Spitalfields on a real live gen-ew-ine London bus, heading straight for one of the many ‘typically British’ meals on my weekend menu: Sausage & Mash (aka S&M). Cor blimey but it’s good. We had walked up an appetite and the juicy, meaty sausages with creamy mash (me) and a delightful bubble and squeak (him) with very British gravy (i.e. slightly gloopy), were the ideal antidote to a growling belly. All topped off with very hot English mustard and served up in a classic London diner. Nice guv.
Saturday Afternoon
Thank goodness we stocked up on the calories, as the afternoon was a whirlwind of walking. I have no doubt that this will have come as a bit of a shock to an American, but he kept up with barely a peep of complaint! We window shopped around the kooky nooks and crannies of Spitalfields, wandering up into eclectic Brick Lane where we stopped at yet another favourite – Cha Lounge (halfway up BL on the left) – for some digestive aid in the shape of Peppermint Tea. Ooh La. People watching a-plenty, so we were able to sit back and relax for a bit, catching our breath before…
The Horrors of Oxford Circus – ugh, let’s not even talk about this atrocity. On to…
Carnaby Street – well, it’s gotta be done, right? Give him a bit of the ol’ 60s swingin' history.
Through the Soho sex shops and onto Old Compton Street where, as per usual on a beautiful sunny day, the streets were lined with gorgeous gay men showing off their buff biceps. Good meandering, and perfect connection to…
…Covent Garden…Trafalgar Square…St James’s Park…and…a much needed REST! Ready for dinner.
Frankly, London was showing off this weekend. The day broke with unashamedly glorious sunshine, almost as if the city were saying ‘right, I’m darned if another American is going to head home thinking England is gloomy, let’s put on a jolly good show’. Which meant that the whole city was out basking in the rays and chilling with cold beers, with the crowds unusually cheerful for Brits. Lucky Chef.
I can be a fairly hard tourist taskmaster, but honestly, it is purely with their best interests in mind. I’m not the sort to drag a visitor to the Tower of London, or the London Eye (yawn), but instead want them to experience some of my favourite bits of the city, which just happen to centre around the importance of some item of food or drink in hand.
With this in mind, we set off as early as was decent along the South Bank to Borough Market, arriving at 11am, and just, just in time to avoid that point at which BM becomes a seething mass of food tourists, and therefore unmoveable (/unbearable). I wasted no time in injecting Chef with a serious dose of caffeine - outstandingly good coffee from the Monmouth Coffee Company, where the mere aroma of ground beans instantly perk a tired/jetlagged/hungover (delete as appropriate) soul up. Chef chose a delightful Indonesian bean from Sumatra. I took a few sips (I’m laying off the caffeine temporarily) and I have to say it lived up to its reputation: earthy, potent, rich and roasted, and without the cloying bitter aftertaste I find I get from most coffees. Served also, I might add, in a very decent sized, small cup. Quality over quantity every day.
We lost track of time as we wandered in a state of bliss around the different market stalls, stroking beautiful glossy tomatoes, and eying up pies at Pieminister, the vast array of cheeses at Neal's Yard Dairy, olives, pasties, apples, and indulging in the various tasters that are strategically scattered about.
Borough Market is without doubt one of my favourite world markets, and I particularly showing it off to unsuspecting tourists, because of the sheer hum and buzz of energy in the air. Laughter and jokes mingle with mouthwatering wafts of baked bread, heady fumes of mulled wine and the earthy smell of mushrooms. Shopkeepers selling their carefully crafted wares – whether smooth, silky cheese or great hunks of dark chocolate, rich, spicy sausages or meaty British pies – are deep in conversation with eager customers, each party gesticulating wildly, facial expressions bursting with the excitement of potential. I find the passion in these interchanges completely contagious, and I never fail to leave without a big grin on my face (and generally a bellyful of tasters). However, keeping in mind our various eating ‘dates’ later on that day, we resisted spoiling our appetites and opted instead for one single indulgence: a scandalously good cranberry brownie from Konditor & Cook - exquisitely moist, ever-so-slightly tart, and smoothly sweet chocolatey goodness, savoured with eyes shut. A must for any brownie fiend.
Saturday Lunch
Dragging ourselves away from the market, we hitched a ride up to Spitalfields on a real live gen-ew-ine London bus, heading straight for one of the many ‘typically British’ meals on my weekend menu: Sausage & Mash (aka S&M). Cor blimey but it’s good. We had walked up an appetite and the juicy, meaty sausages with creamy mash (me) and a delightful bubble and squeak (him) with very British gravy (i.e. slightly gloopy), were the ideal antidote to a growling belly. All topped off with very hot English mustard and served up in a classic London diner. Nice guv.
Saturday Afternoon
Thank goodness we stocked up on the calories, as the afternoon was a whirlwind of walking. I have no doubt that this will have come as a bit of a shock to an American, but he kept up with barely a peep of complaint! We window shopped around the kooky nooks and crannies of Spitalfields, wandering up into eclectic Brick Lane where we stopped at yet another favourite – Cha Lounge (halfway up BL on the left) – for some digestive aid in the shape of Peppermint Tea. Ooh La. People watching a-plenty, so we were able to sit back and relax for a bit, catching our breath before…
The Horrors of Oxford Circus – ugh, let’s not even talk about this atrocity. On to…
Carnaby Street – well, it’s gotta be done, right? Give him a bit of the ol’ 60s swingin' history.
Through the Soho sex shops and onto Old Compton Street where, as per usual on a beautiful sunny day, the streets were lined with gorgeous gay men showing off their buff biceps. Good meandering, and perfect connection to…
…Covent Garden…Trafalgar Square…St James’s Park…and…a much needed REST! Ready for dinner.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
London a la Lex: Part I
What better combination than food and love? Anyone who’s read my previous entries will know about my perfect food find: my very own Chef.
He popped over to London for a spontaneous weekend away from the States, and for his first visit to the UK. A very exciting event for many reasons, not least because I intended to set about proving to him what a culinary adventure London can be for one in the know. I spent a week in furious planning mode, conjuring up food memories of one of my favourite cities from the peace and quiet of the country, and concocting the perfect recipe for London a la Lex. I threw in a handful of food markets, a few romantic walks, my favourite London view, half a dozen ‘very British’ meals, and some friends, for seasoning.
The resulting food fest can only be digested in chunks, and so I will break it down for you, to allow you to savour the flavour.
Bon Appetit mon cheri!
Friday
Ready and raring for a weekend in the city, I headed up to London from t' countryside.
7pm - Emotional Reunion as Chef and I are reunited at Heathrow following a month's separation. I do not waste a single chance to start impressing upon him how great Britain is, and thrust M&S's finest, and two of my particular faves - Percy Pigs and Grape & Raspberry juice carton - into Chef's travel-weary paws.
First London tube ride straight into Central London for Fish & Chips at my favourite: Seafresh in Pimlico. A bright and breezy, cheerful place which sells the best F&C I have ever tasted. The American (who normally doesn't like fried foods) was bowled over. A beautifully fresh, crispy golden batter jacket lovingly encased equally fresh white fish, steamed to perfection inside, and flaking obligingly at the touch of an inquisitive fork. The accompanying chips are satisfying and chunky, just crisp on the outside, soft and tender inside, and smothered with indecent quantities of the obligatory salt and vinegar. Mushy peas complete the picture, naturally. Green, minty and filling comfort food.
Chef was already loving London. I had barely begun...
He popped over to London for a spontaneous weekend away from the States, and for his first visit to the UK. A very exciting event for many reasons, not least because I intended to set about proving to him what a culinary adventure London can be for one in the know. I spent a week in furious planning mode, conjuring up food memories of one of my favourite cities from the peace and quiet of the country, and concocting the perfect recipe for London a la Lex. I threw in a handful of food markets, a few romantic walks, my favourite London view, half a dozen ‘very British’ meals, and some friends, for seasoning.
The resulting food fest can only be digested in chunks, and so I will break it down for you, to allow you to savour the flavour.
Bon Appetit mon cheri!
Friday
Ready and raring for a weekend in the city, I headed up to London from t' countryside.
7pm - Emotional Reunion as Chef and I are reunited at Heathrow following a month's separation. I do not waste a single chance to start impressing upon him how great Britain is, and thrust M&S's finest, and two of my particular faves - Percy Pigs and Grape & Raspberry juice carton - into Chef's travel-weary paws.
First London tube ride straight into Central London for Fish & Chips at my favourite: Seafresh in Pimlico. A bright and breezy, cheerful place which sells the best F&C I have ever tasted. The American (who normally doesn't like fried foods) was bowled over. A beautifully fresh, crispy golden batter jacket lovingly encased equally fresh white fish, steamed to perfection inside, and flaking obligingly at the touch of an inquisitive fork. The accompanying chips are satisfying and chunky, just crisp on the outside, soft and tender inside, and smothered with indecent quantities of the obligatory salt and vinegar. Mushy peas complete the picture, naturally. Green, minty and filling comfort food.
Chef was already loving London. I had barely begun...
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Simple Sustaining Supper
With barely a moment’s breather between soup and main, Ma Pea and I got cooking the next course, a very satisfying Haddock Kedgeree. The recipe is one we’ve used in the family for a long while, but which initially came from dear ol’ Delia. I refer to her with such affection because well, we all know and love her don’t we, us Brits. She’s held many a hand through a Roast Lunch or entire Christmas dinner, and taught many a novice how to boil an egg. All of this recent hoo ha about her new cheats aside (seriously, who is so lazy that they use pre-packed chopped onion?!), her old classics really do methodically demonstrate to the novice cook how to yield results in the kitchen, confidently and efficiently, 100% of the time.
So, let's talk Kedgeree.
Buttery Haddock Kedgeree
Serves 4 generously portioned suppers
Ingredients
Butter
1 onion
1 teaspoon curry powder
8fl oz long-grained white rice
16fl oz water
1.5 lb smoked haddock fillets
2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped
3 heaped tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon lemon juice
salt, pepper
Place the haddock in a pan with the water, bringing them to the boil and simmering gently for 8 minutes. Drain off the water into a measuring jug. Transfer the haddock into another dish and cover with foil.
In the same saucepan, melt a generous knob of butter, and soften the onion in it for 5 minutes. Stir in the curry powder, cook for half a minute and then stir in the measured rice and 16 fl oz of Haddock water. When simmering, cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook very gently for 15 minutes or until the rice is tender.
Remove the fish skin and flake the meat. When the rice mixture is ready fork in the flaked fish, hard-boiled eggs, parsley, lemon juice and the remaining couple ounces of butter. Season and serve.
Again, another tres simple, cheap and simple supper. Stellar.
So, let's talk Kedgeree.
Buttery Haddock Kedgeree
Serves 4 generously portioned suppers
Ingredients
Butter
1 onion
1 teaspoon curry powder
8fl oz long-grained white rice
16fl oz water
1.5 lb smoked haddock fillets
2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped
3 heaped tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon lemon juice
salt, pepper
Place the haddock in a pan with the water, bringing them to the boil and simmering gently for 8 minutes. Drain off the water into a measuring jug. Transfer the haddock into another dish and cover with foil.
In the same saucepan, melt a generous knob of butter, and soften the onion in it for 5 minutes. Stir in the curry powder, cook for half a minute and then stir in the measured rice and 16 fl oz of Haddock water. When simmering, cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook very gently for 15 minutes or until the rice is tender.
Remove the fish skin and flake the meat. When the rice mixture is ready fork in the flaked fish, hard-boiled eggs, parsley, lemon juice and the remaining couple ounces of butter. Season and serve.
Again, another tres simple, cheap and simple supper. Stellar.
Soup - basic adaptable recipe
I have spent my entire life watching my mother, known throughout the land as Soup Queen (by friends, family members, my father in particular, ex-boyfriends, and even strangers), producing delicious, nutritious, steaming great bowls of soupy goodness. It is a rare talent and, frankly, she’s spoilt me for life. None of those cartons of Covent Garden soups, or particularly those tins of Heinz, will ever, ever quite cut it (bar Heinz tomato soup, which, for nostalgia’s sake, will always hold a special place in my heart). I have ordered soups from fancy restaurants – they’ve disappointed. I’ve ordered soups from little cafes – let’s not even talk about it. Suffice to say that as a result of her heavenly concoctions, the humble soup will always remain on a lofty, and practically unattainable, pedestal.
It is therefore about time I learnt her secrets for myself (after all, it is hardly a secret that dad married her for her soups…). I have made soups before, but I think that learning the adaptable basics from mum is a lesson well overdue.
Drumroll, then, for….our first soup lesson together. Lacking in pictures, en ce moment, but rest assured I will be rectifying this situation shortly.
Chickpea & Bacon Soup
Makes 8-10 hearty helpings of slurpy wonderment
Ingredients
Olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped
4-5 rashers smoky bacon, chopped small
2 small onions, diced
3 small carrots, diced
2 celery sticks, diced
generous quantity of parsley, chopped fine
1 tin chopped tomatoes
1 chicken/ham/vegetable stock cube
1 tin chickpeas, drained
salt, pepper
In a large saucepan sweat the bacon with the garlic and a couple tablespoons olive oil, until lightly browned, remove into a bowl.
Again in a couple tablespoons olive oil sweat the onions, and add the carrot and celery to soften.
Stir the bacon back in and add the tin of chopped tomatoes, plus one tin of water (using the empty tomato tin), and the tin of chickpeas. Crumble in a stock cube and, if still lacking for liquid, add a little extra water. Add in a couple of handfuls of chopped parsley, and simmer for 20-25 minutes until the vegetables are tender.
Whiz 2-3 ladlefuls of the mixture up in a blender to thicken, and stir back into the soup. Taste for seasoning and add salt/pepper accordingly (bearing in mind that the stock cube and the bacon will automatically make the soup quite salty).
Serve with a generous amount of parsley.
Honestly, this soup was to die for. In fact, I’m just about to have some of the leftovers for lunch! Dead cheap to make and very economical as it goes such a long way, packed with taste, high in protein – with the pulses and the bacon – and with a hefty whack of your daily five. What more could you want?!
It is therefore about time I learnt her secrets for myself (after all, it is hardly a secret that dad married her for her soups…). I have made soups before, but I think that learning the adaptable basics from mum is a lesson well overdue.
Drumroll, then, for….our first soup lesson together. Lacking in pictures, en ce moment, but rest assured I will be rectifying this situation shortly.
Chickpea & Bacon Soup
Makes 8-10 hearty helpings of slurpy wonderment
Ingredients
Olive oil
1 clove garlic, chopped
4-5 rashers smoky bacon, chopped small
2 small onions, diced
3 small carrots, diced
2 celery sticks, diced
generous quantity of parsley, chopped fine
1 tin chopped tomatoes
1 chicken/ham/vegetable stock cube
1 tin chickpeas, drained
salt, pepper
In a large saucepan sweat the bacon with the garlic and a couple tablespoons olive oil, until lightly browned, remove into a bowl.
Again in a couple tablespoons olive oil sweat the onions, and add the carrot and celery to soften.
Stir the bacon back in and add the tin of chopped tomatoes, plus one tin of water (using the empty tomato tin), and the tin of chickpeas. Crumble in a stock cube and, if still lacking for liquid, add a little extra water. Add in a couple of handfuls of chopped parsley, and simmer for 20-25 minutes until the vegetables are tender.
Whiz 2-3 ladlefuls of the mixture up in a blender to thicken, and stir back into the soup. Taste for seasoning and add salt/pepper accordingly (bearing in mind that the stock cube and the bacon will automatically make the soup quite salty).
Serve with a generous amount of parsley.
Honestly, this soup was to die for. In fact, I’m just about to have some of the leftovers for lunch! Dead cheap to make and very economical as it goes such a long way, packed with taste, high in protein – with the pulses and the bacon – and with a hefty whack of your daily five. What more could you want?!
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