Of course moving house means decreasingly interesting food cupboards: each meal we try and use something else up until we have herbs, half a tin of tea and 27 grains of rice in the bottom of a packet.
I intended to make some pork with mustard, cider and cream (a scraping of dijon being the inspiration here) but the gent and I have been working late a bit so had missed the shops. I ask you: live in central London and you can't get a potato after 8pm!
So we headed to Antidote for a bavette steak and bottle of wine. The satisfaction of a good day at work, combined with relief at not having to create something out of 27 grains of rice and dijon mustard, made me appreciate this trip all the more. As we arrived a downstairs window seat came free and it turned out to be the same seat I had sat in by myself last summer, in the broiling heat, when this was La Trouvaille: charming serendipity.
And then as we enjoyed the glorious red wine (the gent's assessment: "funky"), and the anticipation of steak to come, it began to snow. It was easily one of the most magic evenings, partly because it was by chance, but also because it is so good to properly appreciate when you are living a charmed moment. We have had the opportunity to live in Soho, eat at some terrific places, and now to walk home in the snow - and not worry about tube delays or waiting, freezing at a bus stop. A perfect farewell, and the antidote to moving stresses.
The gent had bordelaise sauce (shallots, red, wine + stock) and I ate my steak with bernaise sauce. The jury is still out on which is better.
Thursday, 9 February 2012
Thursday, 2 February 2012
guestie: Bert
A mini guest-post from Bertie Blue. This is how my home-made recipe books look: print-outs of emails from friends of whole recipes, or just a few words about an ingredient. She writes:
"Say Roy, moving can be expensive, so here's my budget friendly tip of the week...Tom Yum Paste. Have a jar in the fridge, and a spoonful mixed with rice, a few veggies and some protein (a tin of tuna or salmon, some old chook or whatever) is wealthy man flavour for student prices." Then added "it's extra yummy if you can squeeze in a bit of lime juice, and a few drops of fish sauce."
Advice gratefully received: moving certainly is expensive and I have been too tired for proper cooking! It is goodbye to saucy, splendid Soho and hello to the blossom trees and birds of Covent Garden. Who knows, the new oven might even open up the world of baking again...
"Say Roy, moving can be expensive, so here's my budget friendly tip of the week...Tom Yum Paste. Have a jar in the fridge, and a spoonful mixed with rice, a few veggies and some protein (a tin of tuna or salmon, some old chook or whatever) is wealthy man flavour for student prices." Then added "it's extra yummy if you can squeeze in a bit of lime juice, and a few drops of fish sauce."
Advice gratefully received: moving certainly is expensive and I have been too tired for proper cooking! It is goodbye to saucy, splendid Soho and hello to the blossom trees and birds of Covent Garden. Who knows, the new oven might even open up the world of baking again...
Sunday, 8 January 2012
she stoops to conquer
I am sure I have eulogised this most wonderful of homely dishes elsewhere, but making it again today really reminded me how versatile this is.
Mrs I. calls it 'body soup' - her term for a very butch soup, at the mezzanine level, if you will, between stew and soup. When we were children it was almost always lunch on a cold, cheerless day when there were only three or four of us, and without fail was the most heartening, warming presence in the day. And from my Mother's point of view, an excellent housewifely way of using up odds and ends in the kitchen, and stretching a little mince a long way.
I made this today by sweating onion and garlic until soft, then adding a finely diced carrot and two celery stalks until these also began to soften. A dash of smoked paprika (why not?) and some ground cumin went in for a scant minute, before beef mince (an extravagant 500g) was stirred in until browned. Into this went a tin of chopped tomatoes, a good few tablespoons of concentrate tomato paste, enough water to make this very loose and soupy and a handful of thyme, stalks on.
This simmered away for 40 minutes until we were ready to eat, at which point I also slid in chopped, leftover kale and cavolo nero, and a tin of black eye beans. You don't need me to say that ANY beans or pasta or vegetables would be good in this - it's such a charm when you have too much dreaded swede hanging around.
Then all you need is heavily buttered bread, and a spoon.
Mrs I. calls it 'body soup' - her term for a very butch soup, at the mezzanine level, if you will, between stew and soup. When we were children it was almost always lunch on a cold, cheerless day when there were only three or four of us, and without fail was the most heartening, warming presence in the day. And from my Mother's point of view, an excellent housewifely way of using up odds and ends in the kitchen, and stretching a little mince a long way.
I made this today by sweating onion and garlic until soft, then adding a finely diced carrot and two celery stalks until these also began to soften. A dash of smoked paprika (why not?) and some ground cumin went in for a scant minute, before beef mince (an extravagant 500g) was stirred in until browned. Into this went a tin of chopped tomatoes, a good few tablespoons of concentrate tomato paste, enough water to make this very loose and soupy and a handful of thyme, stalks on.
This simmered away for 40 minutes until we were ready to eat, at which point I also slid in chopped, leftover kale and cavolo nero, and a tin of black eye beans. You don't need me to say that ANY beans or pasta or vegetables would be good in this - it's such a charm when you have too much dreaded swede hanging around.
Then all you need is heavily buttered bread, and a spoon.
Saturday, 7 January 2012
wintry weekend winner
Well Allens of Mayfair was out of smoked ham hocks and knuckles, so I will be back next week, looking hopeful. The butcher was just terrific and explained that post-Christmas stock meant they were low on these parts. He also intimated how large the hocks were and said they were 'proper' which is a sure-fire way to clinch my custom.
I am looking forward to braising hocks in cider another day, however the real star of the show was to be the red cabbage recipe I found, and as such, a little roast gammon sufficed wonderfully as accompaniment.
The cabbage was very easy to assemble and made an enormous quantity - unimaginable from the modest, tightly-budded cabbage I began with! Into my casserole I chucked the hand-sliced cabbage (stalk removed), two diced cox's apples, half a cup of red wine vinegar, one or two cinnamon quills and about 8 cloves. It cooked for 2 hours on a low hob. I was a mother hen and kept peeking in to see it had enough liquid and indeed it was fine for an hour or so, after which it did need an extra slosh of vinegar and a little water.
Those with a chunky style of slicing (*cough* Posie!) should know that the cabbage retains its integrity marvellously and doesn't mush down at all, so don't be too inelegant because the end result won't be forgiving. The cabbage would come to no harm if cooked for another hour, too. It was flavourful with warm winter spices, but not quite as mellow as I thought it might be, so to counteract the sharpness of the cabbage I made the mashed potato rather buttery.
Elizabeth David does a similar red cabbage recipe in her 'French Provincial Cooking', which I would love to try another time.
The gammon was the easiest thing of all: it was a modest cut so only needed to cook for about an hour and a quarter. Ten minutes towards the end of cooking I sliced off the rind (taking care not take too much fat with it), scored the remaining fat, and rubbed over a very rough mix of about 2 tsp English mustard and some brown sugar (I honestly have no idea how much, I just mixed it into a nice paste). After pushing in some cloves it was returned it to the oven for the last ten minutes.
There was even a spare 45 minutes in the middle of this all, in which I took a leisurely shower, which surely is the best of multi-tasking. The gammon was a rave success, if I do say so myself, and I loved the wintry cabbage. The only change I would make is to rest the meat properly before carving - I was too impatient - and to count the cloves in and out! The clovey Russian roulette was a bit too exciting at times.
Detail: my lovely ham. Click on image to see the full glory.
I am looking forward to braising hocks in cider another day, however the real star of the show was to be the red cabbage recipe I found, and as such, a little roast gammon sufficed wonderfully as accompaniment.
The cabbage was very easy to assemble and made an enormous quantity - unimaginable from the modest, tightly-budded cabbage I began with! Into my casserole I chucked the hand-sliced cabbage (stalk removed), two diced cox's apples, half a cup of red wine vinegar, one or two cinnamon quills and about 8 cloves. It cooked for 2 hours on a low hob. I was a mother hen and kept peeking in to see it had enough liquid and indeed it was fine for an hour or so, after which it did need an extra slosh of vinegar and a little water.
Those with a chunky style of slicing (*cough* Posie!) should know that the cabbage retains its integrity marvellously and doesn't mush down at all, so don't be too inelegant because the end result won't be forgiving. The cabbage would come to no harm if cooked for another hour, too. It was flavourful with warm winter spices, but not quite as mellow as I thought it might be, so to counteract the sharpness of the cabbage I made the mashed potato rather buttery.
Elizabeth David does a similar red cabbage recipe in her 'French Provincial Cooking', which I would love to try another time.
The gammon was the easiest thing of all: it was a modest cut so only needed to cook for about an hour and a quarter. Ten minutes towards the end of cooking I sliced off the rind (taking care not take too much fat with it), scored the remaining fat, and rubbed over a very rough mix of about 2 tsp English mustard and some brown sugar (I honestly have no idea how much, I just mixed it into a nice paste). After pushing in some cloves it was returned it to the oven for the last ten minutes.
There was even a spare 45 minutes in the middle of this all, in which I took a leisurely shower, which surely is the best of multi-tasking. The gammon was a rave success, if I do say so myself, and I loved the wintry cabbage. The only change I would make is to rest the meat properly before carving - I was too impatient - and to count the cloves in and out! The clovey Russian roulette was a bit too exciting at times.
Detail: my lovely ham. Click on image to see the full glory.
Friday, 6 January 2012
long live the King!
To celebrate Epiphany – or ‘three kings day’ - I made a galette des rois.
I always thought it was very European to celebrate this festival; certainly the French and Spanish have a dedicated cake ('roscon de reyes' for the Spanish). However, after a visit to the Geffrye Museum I was delighted to discover the English have been celebrating this festival since the Middle Ages: Epiphany also coincides with the end of the pagan festival of Saturnalia, which generally celebrates the end of winter.
The English celebration involved an element of role reversal or misrule: whoever finds the charm hidden in the cake becomes King for the day, and in medieval times this meant a servant could find themselves being waited on by their master.
This year, a Mary Cadogan recipe was my blueprint:
http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/5078/galette-des-rois
...but inevitably I made changes. The ready-rolled puff pastry comes in boxes of 320g (or similar) so I just used one of those, and instead of cutting out circles, I cut the pastry in half to make a rectangular cake and popped it on a baking sheet.
I omitted the jam and made more of the frangipane (for no better reason than I had 130g butter left in a packet to use up): 130g of butter and almonds, and 110g of sugar. I also added a few drops of almond extract to enhance the flavour, and used a slosh of armagnac. The result was rather chunky and not nearly as elegant as in the photo of Mary Cadogan’s recipe, but this worried me not a jot: well worth the trade-in for extra frangipane!
It was so easy to make that I urged some of my friends to use it as a method of keeping their offspring entertained. Wonderfully, my sister completely re-invented it for her family's tastes and my 3 year old nephew helped make one with nutella and chopped roast hazelnuts 'for the nutty theme'. With all the hazelnuts this could easily be re-christened 'galette de Roy'! I love that they now have a new tradition.
And who was King for the day? I always take the galette to work and so my colleague Gabriela was the worthy King in our office. Very fitting as she is the one who can already see the imperceptible lengthening of days: the beginning of the end of winter.
Thursday, 5 January 2012
cooking away the grey
Transferring dates from my 2011 diary into my new one, I found a scribbled recipe at the back. I spent a brief 2 month summer spell living with the gent and his two friends and flatmates. One of them sometimes talked about his grandmother’s amazing cooking and as he described her slow-cooked red cabbage dish I dashed down the following notes. I’m not sure I captured it very accurately but it still looks promising:
- Oil, 6-10 cloves, cinnamon stick
- 2 apples chopped
- 1 red cabbage
- 1 cup red wine vinegar
- Cook for 2 hrs on slow
I am a bit grumpy with January – being grey and dark and not yet having got my teeth into anything new – so have decided to cook my way through the grey. I think this braised red cabbage would sit very well next to a slow-cooked pork or lamb roast. And this in turn really invites itself to be followed by rice pudding - do I mean a coconut rice pudding? Quite possibly I do.
And for sure I think this is the weekend to try it!
Saturday, 31 December 2011
Kitchen W8
Isn't it nice to make the most of something? New Year's Eve started early for us with a bacon sandwich (true celebration food!) then a shopping trip for the gent, to include some 78's for the 'grandmaphone' and a serendipitous suit from Hornets.
To end such a satisfactory morning in Kitchen W8 was truly fitting, and frankly if all lunches were like this I would be a whole lot more enthusiastic about shopping.
A mere moment of white table-clothed tranquility was enough to restore our senses, jangled as they were by the Portobello hoardes. And then the feasting began. My starter satiated the senses with rich, extravagant flavours: fried egg with truffle soldiers felt terribly sophisticated and was accompanied by baked squash, chanterelle mushrooms and hazelnut gnocchi. Indeed, gnocchi so full of flavour that we almost mistook them for morsels of something meaty! The gent enjoyed an elegant marriage of beetroot, mackerel rillettes, smoked eel and ham.
Let us pause between courses to note that the Qupe 2009 Chardonnay / Viognier from the new world was a beautiful choice, and entirely worth the gamble. The gent's notes: "powerful full-bodied Chardonnay with the floral qualities of Viognier". But much, much nicer.
We continued with halibut, which came with pumpkin purée, Jerusalem artichoke, fricassee of winter veg (spinach and roast shallots, in this instance). If we were being po-faced and picky we might mention that the fish was just a tiny smidge more cooked then we personally would have chosen... but it was still a beautiful dish which we really enjoyed.
The deserts almost defeated us, despite their wondrousness, and we limped through the finish line, the last to leave the restaurant. If the staff minded they hid it well. To cement my budding love for this restaurant, the maitre d' dropped the espressi from our bill, to compensate for any disappointment for not being able to serve my first-choice of dessert. It is that level of charm that really hits my weak spot: people who understand what a blow it can be to miss out on a poached pear! Happily the desert menu was rare in having several puds I would say yes to, and I was most content with my passion fruit posset. And some of the gent's melting chocolate pudding.
Given that 'Kitchen W8' earned a Michelin star in 2011 I am perhaps being too easily impressed. But I care not: I had a super experience and would visit again at the drop of a hat. I would even contemplate Portobello road again, if this is the treasure at the foot of the rainbow!
Happy new year, I hope it brings you delicious food!
To end such a satisfactory morning in Kitchen W8 was truly fitting, and frankly if all lunches were like this I would be a whole lot more enthusiastic about shopping.
A mere moment of white table-clothed tranquility was enough to restore our senses, jangled as they were by the Portobello hoardes. And then the feasting began. My starter satiated the senses with rich, extravagant flavours: fried egg with truffle soldiers felt terribly sophisticated and was accompanied by baked squash, chanterelle mushrooms and hazelnut gnocchi. Indeed, gnocchi so full of flavour that we almost mistook them for morsels of something meaty! The gent enjoyed an elegant marriage of beetroot, mackerel rillettes, smoked eel and ham.
Let us pause between courses to note that the Qupe 2009 Chardonnay / Viognier from the new world was a beautiful choice, and entirely worth the gamble. The gent's notes: "powerful full-bodied Chardonnay with the floral qualities of Viognier". But much, much nicer.
We continued with halibut, which came with pumpkin purée, Jerusalem artichoke, fricassee of winter veg (spinach and roast shallots, in this instance). If we were being po-faced and picky we might mention that the fish was just a tiny smidge more cooked then we personally would have chosen... but it was still a beautiful dish which we really enjoyed.
The deserts almost defeated us, despite their wondrousness, and we limped through the finish line, the last to leave the restaurant. If the staff minded they hid it well. To cement my budding love for this restaurant, the maitre d' dropped the espressi from our bill, to compensate for any disappointment for not being able to serve my first-choice of dessert. It is that level of charm that really hits my weak spot: people who understand what a blow it can be to miss out on a poached pear! Happily the desert menu was rare in having several puds I would say yes to, and I was most content with my passion fruit posset. And some of the gent's melting chocolate pudding.
Given that 'Kitchen W8' earned a Michelin star in 2011 I am perhaps being too easily impressed. But I care not: I had a super experience and would visit again at the drop of a hat. I would even contemplate Portobello road again, if this is the treasure at the foot of the rainbow!
Happy new year, I hope it brings you delicious food!
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