two hungry bees

Just a tiny word about the most delicious Vietnamese meal.  Saturday night saw me at the Hill Station Cafe, attending a pop up evening hosted by Two Hungry Bees (find out about them on Twitter as @twohungreybees).  I have walked past the Hill Station many times and, day or night, it is always inviting, buzzing with activity.  But each time I walk on and think 'soon! Another time'.

But back to the food.  I had that wonderful experience - rare as an adult - of tasting new flavours and ingredients.  An inauspicious nettle-looking leaf with a very distinctive flavour (Red Perilla) was beneath some shredded salad; we wrapped it all up in the leaf and dunked it in the dipping sauce.  Heaven!  Later, making our own summer rolls I found the pretty 'heartleaf' to add in with the salad.

New, too, were combinations of flavours, which made me completely redress the way I look at some very ordinary ingredients.  Zinging herbs, chilli, lime, noodles - all turned into something quite new when put together.  I have no idea what is in it, but always, always I love the thin, astringent dipping sauce for spring and summer rolls.  New to me too was the rice pancake we wrapped the summer roll in, with its improbable thin, brittle texture transforming into sticky cling film, in which to envelop a modest few items.  Rice pancake and vegetables with a few flakes of salmon somehow transformed into the most fresh, flavourful mouthfuls. The stock to make Pho is a mystery to me - and can stay that way, as long as I can get to Mo Pho or the Two Hungry Bees market stall once in a while!

But most of all that evening, I enjoyed the warmth.  Our hosts talked about their family food and demonstrated how dishes are usually eaten.  From this lovely, intimate presentation, to the welcoming people I sat with who shared their evening with me, to the pretty Cafe itself, which always exudes laughter.  Only this time, I was on the inside.

three colours hungry

Beet red
Brockley market's second birthday was a wonderful thing to behold! Heaps of stalls, many customers and more goodwill than you could shake an organic cabbage at.  I had a dark fluid coffee as an especial treat to myself, and then got two bunches of beets and a big head of celery for four quids.  Not a big haul, but then it is the end of the month, my traditional time for scraping the bottom of the barrel.  And anyway I find a particular pleasure in making the most of modest things.

On Sunday evening, as I was pottering around pulling weeds from the patio, picking tomatoes and trimming an unhappy geranium, my beets were being roasted into this happy dish.  Lovely sweet carrots and beetroot, with onion, garlic, potato and celery; roasted for 45 minutes, then draped with fat slices of salty halloumi and given another 10 minutes in the oven to turn good.  Hearty, warming, carb-heavy.  And I had a leftover glass of wine to indulge in, too.


Blackberry blue
Sunday lunchtime saw me furtively stalking in the bushes of Brockley / Ladywell cemetery.  To be more precise, I was astonished at the amount of bushes that had turned into brambles and, therefore, were proffering up bright berries.  The sort of 'astonished' that led me to arrive with a plastic tub, ready for collecting fruit in, though...

It felt wrong, wrong, wrong to be berrying amongst the dead, however if the dearly departed are of as one mind with me, then I'd say a berry gone to waste is a sorry thing.  There were loads, to the point that many were going mouldy on the branches: I certainly wasn't depriving the birds of snacks.  The fruit are very nearly over, many being over-ripe and mushy, however I was selective and collected around half a kilogram which is perfect for the blackberry clafoutis I made recently and have declared a winner.  The berries are in the freezer, awaiting someone to help me eat the clafoutis!


Carte blanche white
Finally in my frugal trio, we see those three blackening bananas on my kitchen counter get their comeuppance. Yes, banana bread AGAIN.  This year I have mostly been using a Mary Berry recipe from a book I can only assume my Mother gave me.  Mrs I. adores Mary Berry.  Having recently seen an episode of 'British Bake off', I myself am now also a staunch supporter of both her baking and fashion sense.  Anyway, feeling heady and reckless after this weekend's adventures, I gave myself carte blanche to fiddle with the recipe.  Not to improve it, but because I found a pack of poppy seeds which I felt would cheer things along, and also because ground almonds feel positively healthy, as well as adding wonderful moistness.  Instead of the usual 225g flour then, I used 50g ground almonds, 20g poppy seeds and 175g flour.

NOTE TO SELF: I always have to look this up, so maybe writing a note here will help.  Self raising flour =150g flour plus 2 tsp baking powder.  I never have self-raising flour in the house and end up guessing.

I also finally trusted to the instruction, which is to put everything into a bowl 'and beat'.  I always follow the sponge method of creaming butter and sugar, adding eggs etc. etc.  But my gorgeous KitchenAid mixer was making eyes at me so I let her do the work whilst I washed up.

I can't wait for breakfast tomorrow: my coffee pot sits ready, next to the cake.

Lambgate

Melly Bo and Phil ventured all the way to south London, for a First Day of The End Of The Summer lamb roast. I chose a lamb shoulder - my resolute favourite cut - and made a lamb roast which started life as Hugh's weeping whatsit and has since morphed, as all dishes do, to suit my natural leanings. Despite this, still bluddy yums.  The company was even more delicious than the lamb, and the food warmed our souls and made autumn seem a cosy prospect. 

The next night I was out at my local community choir, which was such fun I am tempted to ramble on about that instead of food. Even the bit where, on the walk home I made a voice memo of a song, accidentally pressing the 'start' button only when complete, then recorded 18 minutes and 26 seconds of the inside of my pocket. Technical dunce!

I finally arrived home at 9.30, ravenous: what to eat?

Out came the brown dish and in went all the left over roast veggies, new potatoes and the fattiest chunks of lamb.  After15 mins in an un-pre-heated oven optimistically set to 200 degrees, with wine and 'Girls' on the go, I could bear it no longer and tucked in.  But not without a photo for posterity: you know me. 

The flavours had become more intense, and this was even more wonderful than the original roast.  How I love left-overs!

Sunday brekker, cordial and a ripe tomato

In which I rise late, have a good breakfast and pick the first ripe tomato from my plants.

Fit the first: Rosie's elderflower cordial.

Just look at that heavenly, homely little bottle.  Gorgeous. It wins on looks alone and yet, and yet, it actually tastes better than it looks!  Lovely with a lemon-ice-slice (TM): this is KK's invention to make the most of lemons that are leaving youth behind, and with no immediate use for them.  Slice, bag and freeze.  Lovely in gin or just with cold water and mint.


Fit the second: late breakfast.

Discerning chums of mine were surprisingly vehement in their opinion of Nigella's 'Eggs in purgatory'. Runny egg and tomato appear to be a controversial combination. Yet an irresistible dip into Malcom Eggs' 'The breakfast bible' reignited my curiosity.  I was agog over some Middle Eastern breakfasts, and when I saw sumac, my new and undiminished crush, I knew I had to give this combination a second chance.  I didn't follow the actual recipe, which I quite forget now, but instead took a scratched milk pan and fried some halved tomatoes.  When soft and crisp in the right places, I made little gaps in which to crack eggs.  A little sumac storm later, I piled it all out onto some buttered toast.  And dang me if it wasn't just really lovely.  A little heartburn-ey, I'll warrant, but I was feeling manful.
 

Fit the third: just look at that tomato. Either fully embarrassed or trying to be individual; either way I hope it is a fashion the others follow. 

raise the steaks

No photo for this one. Just warning my Mum who likes a photo to cheer her along through the technical bits.

Sunday afternoon, an empty brain, train leaving in 15 minutes and a guest who doesn't like sauce. What to cook? What could Waitrose Chichester offer a harassed consumer?

I instinctively reached for a few salad things and a reduced price 'frying steak' of unspecified cut. It all nobly lasted the journey back to London, whereupon I DELIGHTED myself with this low-effort, but ever so rewarding meal. You can probably tell that I speak as much with surprise as self-congratulation.

I prepared everything bar the steak as soon as I walked in the door, and the prep was really very minimal.  The steak takes only a couple of minutes at the last moment, so is even less drama than cooking the potatoes.

• 3 adequate tomatoes, sliced*, arranged elegantly over a jumble-sale-bargain-plate and drizzled in Spanish virgin olive oil, from a picturesque tin. Seasoned.
• Too many new potatoes, boiled with a few mint leaves: drained, and dashed with a spot of oil.
• Ruby baby gem lettuce, roughly torn or chopped so the big leaves are in 2 or 3 pieces, arranged over a shallow dish. Bunch of spring onions - or scallions as they are sometimes, pleasingly, called - diced and scattered over; chopped mint and fresh red chilli also evenly decorated about. Half a lime squeezed over, a thin drizzle of oil, if you feel so inclined. Grind some medium-coarse pepper over the meat.  Now sear the steak until appealing without and soft pink within. Rest 5 mins if you can wait, whilst recalling that the meat will continue to cook. So. Don't mis-judge that. Slice thinly - across the grain if you please - into long strips and drape over the salad.

Self-congratulate. Masticate. Celebrate.

* horizontal, which is my OCD only way of slicing them.

summer supps

Still obsessed with fattoush, I naturally made it king of the table when Herb, Al and PJ came for a summery supps.

Its attendant dishes were very basic, but heavy on summer flavours: lemon roast chicken, mint new potatoes, rocket and orange salad.

To keep our hunger at bay to begin with, there was soda bread with oil and za'atar to dip into, and olives and gins... then lovely bubbly from Al.

And after we were sated, beyond really needing anything more, we still found a place for chocolate pots and cherries, with almond and apricot tart from Al and Herb again (via Konditor and Cook), and Turkish nuts and dried fruits from PJ.  No one, but no one wanted coffee, despite having two fresh bags from Monmouth at the ready!

But the most zingy, happy dish has to be fattoush. Incidentally, you can do anything with it should you have left-overs: stir through cold, leftover rice; put with pasta and chicken; cram into a pitta with falafel.  The apricot tart was breakfasts for a few days, and I am still enjoying the coffee ... along with the afterglow of a wonderful evening in good company.

fattoush fetish

Sometimes I have such a good time that I actually get jealous of myself.

I might taste something delicious and think 'that is so wonderful, I would LOVE to have that every day until I get sick of it'.  Then I realise that I made it, and that there is no restriction on when or what I eat and that, in short, my heart's desire was just granted.

Can anyone else be as lucky as that?

After a sustained but unsuccessful campaign on the national supermarkets I finally found the spices sumac and za'atar in the restaurant Comptoir Libanais which, it transpires, also sells Middle Eastern ingredients.  I had been impatient to make Fattoush, a fresh, zingy salad, which looked as if it could be different enough to feel like I wasn't eating yet more tomatoes and cucumber.

To sustain me while I prepared the salad, I ate Mallorcan sobrasada on oat cakes, with a spot of Oloroso sherry, standing on one leg, leaning over the sink.  As is my glamorous wont.

In a model of time-efficiency (I'm so jealous!) I put soda bread in the oven, along with some chicken thighs rubbed with oil and za'atar: whilst they cooked, I took a well-earned shower.  As my friend Anun said, so delicately, of hot weather and body odour "by noon, I am AWARE of myself".

Emerging like a bespectacled Venus from the waves, I found the bread baked to perfection - no room for modesty today - and the chicken thighs begging for a basting.  I appeased them, saucy wretches, and cracked on with the salad.

I started out following a recipe - of COURSE Nigella, of COURSE 'Forever Summer' - however I sort of lost myself in the salad drawer of my fridge and this is what I actually put together:

• 2 plump tomatoes, diced
• 1/3 cucumber, diced
• about 6 skinny spring onions, chopped big and rough
• a handful of radishes in quarters
• a very few baby gem leaves, torn. Almost tempted to say don't use these.
• 1 clove of garlic, minced
• 3/4 teaspoon sumac
• pinch salt
• a little glug of virgin olive oil
• juice of half a lime
• mint leaves, shredded

With the first mouthful I unravelled and nearly had to telephone someone - anyone - to tell them about it.  It is the taste equivalent of dazzling.  It is 'fresh' cubed.  It also leaves you with terrible garlic / onion breath.

I gathered myself together, put a roast chicken thigh* and quarter of soda bread onto the plate of fattoush, and ate fast.

*Something for the more sleazy eater: the chicken leaves a lot of za'atar-spiced oil/fat in the roasting dish which you might like to mop up with your soda bread. Do consider it...