The time is right.

It was always going to happen, the inexorable fact that I would return to work.  That day seems to have arrived.  Although I am in the final stages of completing the contract it seems I will return to the rat-trap of International work again at the beginning of next month.  My feeling is that this heralds the end of my blogging career - for now.

I have tried to blog each day what I have been eating or, as in some cases drinking.  This I have managed, to one degree or another for the last 4 months.  I have really enjoyed it and it has brought to my attention my love for writing and researching.  I have honestly learned more about food over the last few months than I could have ever dreamed possible.  If it were possible to be physically and mentally addicted to wikipedia then I would definitely be signing myself in for rehab.

For the life of me I have no real idea who has been reading my blog, save for a few of my friends that seem to pull it up on their smart phones on their dreary trek into central London.  All I can hope is that it has lightened your day, put a smile on your face and an idea in your belly.

It is entirely likely that I will begin to blog again, just maybe not to the same energetic levels that I have aspired to during the first phase of this year 2012.

Keep on eatin'!

 

Nelsons Revenge.

I could wait no more.  It had been almost two weeks (1 week and 4 days to be exact, but who's counting?) since I had bottled up the latest addition to my brewing repertoire - "Nelsons Revenge".  As you may know, my last attempt at brewing ended up with the creation of a rather effervescent, but impotent brew with little flavour or alcohol content.  I had it already set in my mind, that if this particular tipple also failed to deliver then I would hang up my fermenter and racking cane for good.

I removed the hallowed object from our outside pantry, in a manner not unlike Harrison Ford stowing some archaeological treasure into a leather knapsack - the anticipation of the golden contents too much to contemplate.  The beads of sweat gathered on my brow as I carefully pried open the green cap that protected the nectar inside from the external elements.  In all honesty I was expecting to be writing about my second "epic fail" today.

With much gusto I slugged down the first dramatic draught of ale and found to my glee and amazement a perky hoppy-ness erupting on my tongue cohabiting with the reassuring sense of something alcoholic going down the back of my throat.  It was a malty brew, with an intense bitterness that I was hoping for, coupled with a neat 5.0% ABV confirmed by my hydrometer.

It is only 11am in the morning, so I will resist the temptation to pop another bottle at this hour.  Tonight though, in celebration of the start of the Euro 2012 football championship I will sit back and revel in the delight that I am drinking a delicious ale, that was my brewed by my fair hand.

Wish you were here.

Just a short note to say I am going away for a couple of days.  We're heading off to Suffolk to enjoy the eastern coast of England.  Let's just hope the weather holds out!

French onion soup.

As you might see by the distinct void of anything French on my blog thus far, I am not an avid fan of cooking French cuisine.  I especially avoid so-called "haute cuisine" where you end up with something that more resembles a painting rather than a meal on your plate.  Don't get me wrong, I don't mind paying to eat that kind of offering, since there's no way I can ascend to those dizzying heights of gastronomy in my own kitchen.  

Provincial French cooking, however, is something that I do look.  if you have ever read the book of the same title by Elizabeth David you can begin to appreciate the delicate simplicity of splicing ingredients together that "just work".  Ratatouille and caviar d'aubergine are two such recipes that are so simple, where the marriage of flavours elevate it to another dimension. 

French onion soup is something you will always find on a generic "Cafe Rouge' or faux French restaurant in England.  Often it will be watery, insipid and lacking depth.  Cooking it in the Norman style, using calvados and a little cider though, coaxes a wave of ensuing sweetness and depth from the humble onion.

I made it last night, traditionally served with a crouton of bread on top with some Gruyere (that's Swiss isn't it?) cheese sprinkled on board.

It takes some time to make, and it really needs a decent stock (as all good soups do) to make it sing so vibrantly like this.  If you have a decent chicken stock, as I did, you can use this in combination with a beef stock pot.  This works almost as well as if you had a good bouillon of beef in the first place.


The use of alcohol can be avoided if you really wish to, but I utterly advocate its addition, especially the cider.

French onion soup

•   Finely slice (not chop) 4, large, good quality onions.
•   In a large pan add a wedge (around 50-60g) unsalted butter and a few glugs of a decent olive oil.
•   Heat the pan to a medium heat and add all the onion.  Don't be alarmed, these cook down and reduce massively.
•   Cook the onions on a medium to low heat for 2 hours, turning infrequently.  Don't be tempted to sit there turning every 5 minutes, we need caramelization here.  If the onions look to be drying out, add some more oil.
•   After 2 hours the onions should be deep brown in colour, sweet to the nose, and oozing oil.
•   Add a tablespoon of plain flour, stir to mix in and increase the heat.  Cook for 1-2 minutes.
•   Add a tablespoon of cider vinegar, a slug of calvados (cognac will work if you don't have calvados) and 250ml of decent quality cider.  Increase the heat, deglaze the pan and cook off some of the booze.
•   Strip 3 bushy sprigs of thyme of their leaves and add to the pan.
•   Add 1 litre of decent beef stock, or, as in my case half a litre of chicken stock, a beef stock pot and top up with water.
•   Check the seasoning.  Sometimes stock pots can be salty.  it will definitely need some turns of black pepper.
•   Allow the soup to cook on a low heat for a further 20-30 minutes.
•   Serve with a crouton of bread topped with gruyere (or any good, hard, melting cheese). 

Phaseolus coccineus.

The humble runner bean seems almost synonymous with summertime.  Ever since I was a small child  "runners" featured on our plate ubiquitously over the everlasting school holidays in July and August.  Easy to grow and attractive to look at this particular perennial vine is especially suited to growing in our brief and vapid summer period.

We have grown them in the past but we always manage to harvest them too late and end up with pods that are as palatable as chewing on an old sock.  When the pods are young and still tender, though, they can be a charming side accompaniment to many dishes.  And this is exactly what I did with ours last night.  I made some potato cakes to use up the remaining pancetta from last night's carbonara, and on the side I perched some beautifully steamed and dressed runner beans.

Now, my only gripe with runners is that I wonder how to cook them apart from the traditional way:  i.e remove the fibrous stringy bits from the side of the bean, cut them, strangely into romboid shapes, then steam them lightly (or as in my mothers case, boil the last tangible living ether out of them).  

You do, however, have to be careful with runner beans.  Like kidney beans, fava beans and the common green bean, runner beans contain phytohaemagglutinin - an organic toxin.  Eaten in a raw state just a few beans can quite quickly induce vomiting and profuse diarrhoea.  

If anyone knows of a good way to use up runner beans other than the aforementioned style then I would be most grateful to hear it.

En-thali Delicious.

As is de rigeur in my house these days, I decided to utilize the scraps left over from last night and also to decimate some of the odds and sods in the deep recesses of the refrigerator.  I had some turmeric rice and some aloo dum left - I decided to just reheat the spuds, but my intention was to make some egg-fried rice.  I also had half a cucumber, half a tub of yoghurt and a single corn on the cob.

Spying some moong dal lentils on the top shelf I decided to make a bit of a mish mash of curries, or as they call it in India a "thali".  Thali, in Hindi, literally means plate.  A thali is invariably vegetarian, or carnivorous and usually consists of up to 5 or 6 dishes with a yoghurt or chutney included, bread, is of course, mandatory.

So, along side my rice and potatoes I made a dry Sindhi-style moong dal and a cucumber raita.  The corn I would throw into the karahi with the rice.

Without the raita I think this selection would not have worked.  It really needed something to focus the other components.  I was really pleased with the combination of flavours and textures.

Vegetarian Thali

I will give you the recipe for my:

Cucumber Raita

•   In a serving bowl add 250-300g of yoghurt.  Give it a good mix and whisk with a fork to lighten it up.
•   Peel half a cucumber.  Cut it in half lengthways and scoop the seeds out using a teaspoon.  Using a potato peeler pull off long ribbons of paper-thin cucumber and add to the yoghurt.
•   Peel and finely chop a clove of garlic.  Add to the yoghurt.
•   Squeeze the juice of half a lemon into the yoghurt.
•   Finely chop about 20 leaves of fresh mint.  Add to the bowl.
•   Add a pinch of salt and a few generous turns of the pepper grinder.
•   Stir to mix it all well.  

Stop - Curry Time!

There has been a distinct absence of anything curried recently, and frankly, this bothers me.  It seems that over time, my taste buds have become irrevocably mutated, the end product being that I have to have some kind of curry each week.  Otherwise I die.  All the recent hot weather means we have been eating outside a lot, and potatoes (apart from an infrequent potato salad) are not generally featured on our summer menu.  I decided to use up some of the organic potatoes we have building up from our weekly veggie box delivery.

Indian restaurants nearly always feature some kind of potato option on their menu, but rarely do they swerve from the ever-faithful, though somewhat dull "bombay potatoes" or "saag aloo".  I have a great recipe for potatoes cooked in a highly spiced yoghurt-based sauce called "Aloo dum".  Dum, if I am not mistaken just means slow-cooked, so this is simply, slow cooked spuds.

Aloo Dum

•   For two people, peel and par-boil about 4-5 medium potatoes.  Drain them, and allow to cool.  Cut into wedges.
•   In a frying pan, or better a karahi fry them in oil until golden brown on all sides.  Remove and drain on kitchen roll.
•   Clean the karahi.  Add 6 tablespoons of neutral oil.  Heat on a medium heat.
•   Add a good pinch of asoefatida, a stick of cinnamon (6-7cm long), 3 cloves, 4 black cardamom, 4 finely chopped garlic cloves and a thumb of ginger grated finely.
•   After 30 seconds (don't allow the garlic to colour) throw in 2 finely diced, medium onions.  Cook until golden.
•   Add 2 tsp ground coriander, 1 tsp ground cumin, 1 tsp regular paprika, 1/2 tsp ground turmeric.  Stir and fry for 1 minute.
•   Blitz 3 tomatoes and 3 red chilli's (I used re-hydrated cherry bombs) in a blender.  Add to the onions.  Stir and cook for 1 or 2 mins.
•   Take the pan off the heat.  Meanwhile, whisk 250g of normal, full fat yoghurt.  Slowly add the yoghurt to the curry, a tablespoon at a time, each tbsp make sure to mix in well.
•   When all the yoghurt is added and incorporated add 1 teaspoon (or to taste) salt and a few decent grinds of black pepper.
•   Cook on a low heat until the potatoes are soft and yielding.

I served this with turmeric-infused basmati rice and peas.  I very much recommend you do too!

Racking and bottling.

My "Nelsons Revenge" finally stopped bubbling yesterday afternoon after 5 dutiful days in the outside toilet.  The fermenter had an encouraging "mat" of yeast at the bottom and when I unplugged the airlock I got a wonderful whiff of fresh beer, carbon dioxide and depleted yeast.  It was ready for bottling!

Racking the beer out of a fermenter can be a long and arduous process.  Bottles needs to be rinsed, cleaned and then disinfected, as does the racking cane itself, the bottle tops and anything else than comes into contact with the hallowed liquid.  This took me an hour in itself.

Since the weather was so nice I set my little brewing factory out in the garden.  My 4 year old could not resist helping, so he got the job of spooning in half a teaspoon of caster sugar.  This is added to encourage a second fermentation in the bottle, which catalyzes a little extra fizz.

Beer Factory

It took us a further hour or so to fill and cap 40 bottles of amber nectar.  This is a monotonous procedure and rather akin to wrapping up Christmas presents - i.e it's boring, but you can't wait to get at what is inside.

My last batch of beer was very disappointing - it had little flavour or bitterness and to my rather expert opinion it was hugely lacking in the booze department.  I really hope these problems do not exhibit themselves in this particular brew as I think I am ready to down tools if it happens again.  You cannot imagine the despair of waiting 3 weeks to discover your beer has as much flavour as a 39p bottle of Tesco shandy.

A right bevvy of beauties

I now must wait for around 2 weeks for the beer to clear a bit, and for the secondary fermentation to halt.  That's good news though as I'm trying to stop drinking Monday - Thursday.  Too many summers of too much beer and too little exercise have conspired to expand my considerable girth.  It is time to sort out my gut.

Heatwave..

Any temperature more than +10C, or a period of weather where it does not rain for more than a week is automatically deemed a heatwave in England.  Should, in the extremely unlikely circumstance, the mercury bulb display the dizzy heights of more than 20C the tabloid newspapers feel it is necessary to scour the world section of some broadsheet to see exactly how much hotter London is, in comparison to say, Algiers.  The obligatory picture of overweight students in bikini's are emblazoned on every front page.

Well, that is just what has happened here in England since the end of last week.  We are experiencing some decent weather for a change.  In the last 3 days we have eaten fish and chips on the beach and had 2 barbecues - hence why there has been no update to my blog of recent.

I do hope you will excuse me, as I enjoy a cold beer in my garden and relax with the kids in the pool (a plastic paddling pool, which is infinitely impossible to inflate).

Pulled Pork.

I have quite a collection of culinary fails in my repertoire.  I attempted pulled pork about 9 months ago and failed dismally - I didn't cook the hand for long enough and the resultant pork was neither tender enough, nor "pullable".  I wanted to give this recipe another visit, and this time I did some serious research to make sure I got it right.


A 5kg hand of pork (or pork butt, as they call it in The U S of A) is the top of the front leg and shoulder.  It is a particularly resistant cut of meat and can withstand long durations in the oven without drying it out.  Indeed, it requires such long stretches inside to ensure you properly obliterate the collagen in the flesh.


I skinned my hand, by hand (messy, but fun) then made a marinade:

•   One small onion, chopped and into the blender
•   10 cloves of garlic, into the blender
•   About 3 tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce into the blender
•   About 3 tablespoons of dark soy sauce into the blender
•   A squirt of tomato puree into the blender

Blend all this to a nice paste and then smear the hand with it and marinade over night

On the day (or, as in this case, morning) of cooking grease up a large baking tray and place the hand into it.  Preheat the oven to 120 Celsius and put the hand in.

I left my pork in the oven for 8.5 hours (bear in mind it was a 5kg, bone-in joint).  When I took it out it was rather black on the outside, so don't be alarmed.  The meat should be quite easily "pulled" off the bone and then you can shred it by using two forks, one in each hand:

I was surprised by the yield of pork I got.  Guess what we're eating for the next 3 days?

I then made a barbecue sauce to go with this.  Into a saucepan, place the following:

•   a few decent lugs of Worcestershire sauce
•   a few decent lugs of dark soy sauce
•   a generous squirt of tomato ketchup
•   about 4 tablespoons of cider vinegar
•   a good pinch of smoked paprika
•   a little dash of tabasco
•   a teaspoon of dijon
•   gently heat it up to combine all the ingredients

I served my pork the traditional way, in soft, white buns with coleslaw.  It was absolutely delicious and I cannot wait to make it again.  What's even better is that the whole 5kg hand cost me less than 4 quid!

 

On the brew...

Two blogs in one day I hear you cry?  Yes, indeed, a double-whammy.  The inspiration for this second dose was motivated by the necessity to inform you of a new arrival in our house!  That's right, we have a new baby.  Well, I do anyway.  It's called Nelson's Revenge and hopefully it will aspire to the dizzying heights of 5.0% ABV.

I broke out the brewing products, cleaned my barrels and pipes and prepared the outhouse for 6 days of sincere, unadulterated fermentation.

Actually, in truth, I wasn't expecting anything to happen.  This kit had been lingering in the store cupboard for about 18 months, but I can attest to the yeasts activity.  I took a little movie:

I now need to stay patient and try to keep my extremely curious kids from breaking into the outside toilet and drinking my homebrew.  The latter will be more difficult to maintain.

I shall keep you updated as to how this brewing voyage transpires over the next 2 to 3 weeks.

What a pilafer!

Dutifully, I checked the rations yesterday morning to see what particular delight I might concoct.  I had half a chorizo ring, half a red pepper and a courgette.  Pasta seemed like a viable option, but I'm a little bored of that at the moment.  I remembered I had about a litre of chicken stock in the freezer:  this, of course meant RISOTTO!

Everything was proceeding as I had foreseen it (cue evil cackle).  The chorizo was duly sliced and fried to release its orangey oil.  The vegetables were prepared.  The wine was open.  I reached into the cupboard to remove my plentiful supply of arborio only to recoil in horror at its complete and utter absence.  I was stuffed.

Now, Spanish wine can have a curious affect on the workings of a man's brain.  I decided to embark on a pioneering voyage to boldly go where no risotto had gone before.  For some unknown reason I decided to try making a risotto with basmati rice.  

In its essence, the only real difference I can detect between a pilaf and a risotto is the use of wine, and the particular grain of rice.  Arborio, being a very high-starch variety yields a type of pectin that effectively creams up your risotto.  I watched aghast, during last weeks "Saturday kitchen" when a well-known and respected English chef advocated the addition of cream to his risotto.  I only have three things to say to that - No, No and No.

Chorizo, red pepper and courgette pilaf (risotto)

•    Peel and cube the chorizo.  Fry in a little oil until slightly crispy.  Remove from the oil and drain on kitchen roll.
•   Slice and dice, one onion, half a red pepper, one courgette and 3 cloves of garlic.  Add to a pan and sweat.
•   When the vegetables have softened add your basmati (arborio) rice.  Stir to mix in the oil.
•   Add a small glass of good white wine - I used an Albariño.
•   Season with lots of black pepper, but go easy on the salt as the chorizo is salty enough.
•   Bring 500ml of chicken stock to the boil.  
•   Add a ladle of stock.  Stir to mix.  
•   When the rice has absorbed the stock add another ladle.
•   Repeat until either the stock has gone or you feel the pilaf (risotto) is too wet.
•   Add the chorizo.  Check seasoning.  Serve. 

Cakes o' Fishness.

Bucking the usual trend of roast dinner on a Sunday we decided to use up some bits and bobs obstructing our larder.  A piece of salmon, defrosted yesterday and a can of mackerel looked decisively to me like fishcakes.  We really don't sit down together as often as we should for dinner, so we do try to do this of a Sunday.

The recipe for my way of making fishcakes can be found here http://swlsk.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/fresh-from-capns-table.html 

We also had a fresh and crunchy pointed cabbage - a vegetable that is understandably ubiquitous at the moment left to eat, so this in turn, was made into my quick fire sauerkraut.  The recipe for this you can find here http://swlsk.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/back-to-roots.html 

I made 6 fair-sized fishcakes, coated them in white breadcrumbs and set them on a board to refrigerate for 30 minutes or so.

 

I probably got the potato to fish ration messed up as I attempted to eke out a little fish between 3 people.  Actually you can probably count that as 3.5 people - my 4 year old son eats as much as a horse.

The fishcakes can be taken out the frying pan and placed into the often.  This helps to store them, but it also aids in browning the sides of the cakes too.

Mackerel and Salmon Fishcakes with Quick Sauerkraut and Peas

The wonderful world of pasties.

Though indigenous to the southwest of England, Cornwall to be exact, pasties of all shape, size and filling can be found throughout our fair land.  Square ones, crescent ones, some filled with chicken tikka, some with steak and beans.  The traditional Cornish Pasty, proud owner of PGI (Protected Geographical Indication) is stringently controlled though.  Its shape and filling must meet exacting guidelines or it is simply not a Cornish Pasty.

The origins of the word pasty can be traced to the old English word for a pie baked without a dish and has been documented in historical writing all the way back to the 1300's.  Whether or not the English can lay claim to "discovering" the pasty is a matter for some thought.  I'm sure the Spanish empanada and the Indian Samosa would have something to say about that.

Fact of the matter is though, they are delicious.  I like them filled with anything, as long as it isn't tough old steak.  The brief instance of fear one experiences before biting into a cheese and bean melt (from Greggs, of course) as you try to anticipate the searing, volcanic filling exploding across your lips is a moment to savour - let alone the product itself.

A cheese and onion pasty, served with home made fried chips and baked beans is without doubt a triumvirate of triumph.  A hearty and over-zealous splodge of ketchup and this dish is complete.

Gifto's Lahore Karahi, Southall

We are most fortunate, living in England with the glut of Indian restaurants we have at our dispense.  In reality, most Indian restaurants are in fact owned by Bangladeshi's masquerading as an Indian restaurant.  What we do not seem to be quite so ubiquitously blessed with are Pakistani establishments.  An Indian friend of mine once told me that the Pakistani's are actually better cooks than the Indians.  The Indian kitchen is mostly dominated by vegetables.  Pakistani's are much more meat obsessed and can cook it with greater competency.  The truth of this, I am not convinced of, but it makes a nice story.

Yesterday we went to Southall, in Middlesex, just outside Heathrow airport.  The streets are festooned with every kind of bangle, sari and curiously at nearly every corner a sweetcorn stand.  It was our intention to seek out a decent place to have lunch with our children, to show them the cultural diversity of Southall and just generally get out of Surbiton for the day.

Gifto's, at the far end of the high street in Southall was refitted in 2010 and the decor is clean and modern.  The bench seating system is cosy and the grill and tandoor section is exposed to the public to see the theatre behind the glass screens.

Our arrival was greeted by a friendly waiter who showed us to our bench.  After the initial visit to the toilets, which is always inevitable with a 4 year old we returned to make our order.  Incidentally, the toilets were spotless and strangely the urinals were filled with swathes of clean ice cubes.  This provided a gleeful distraction to the usually mundane job of urinating. 

It is important to note that this being a Pakistani restaurant signifies that there is no alcohol for sale.  We plumped for 2 carrot and orange juices and a mango smoothie.  Delicious they both were too.

Food-wise the menu is very diverse and features some interesting, unique choices.  The dahi bhalla were of especial note, lentil doughnuts decked with yoghurt and tamarind sauce.  The chicken boti, from the resplendent grill was delicate and well cooked, stemmed from its probable long marination steeped in yoghurt and spices.  The star of the show, though, was the handi kofte - meatballs in a rich sauce of tomato and onion, spiced with clove, cinammon stick and cardamom.  The naan were crisp on the outside and soft and doughy on the inside, having been treated to a visit to see Mr Tandoor.  The rice was fluffy and moist.


I cannot recommend this place enough and am already yearning to return.  If you ever find yourself in Southall, with an empty stomach and yearning for some decent spicy fayre I mostly humbly request you check this place out.

Jamon or Prosciutto - what's best?

It is an age old question, one that bisects opinion and catalyzes vociferous debate in the Latin part of Europe.  Where does the best ham come from? 

Today I want to talk about Italian prosciutto.  The word prosciutto comes originally, and not unsurprisingly, from the Latin "pro exsuctus" (which sounds a little bit like a spell from a Harry Potter novel).  Pro exsuctus means to suck out, or remove the moisture.  It doesn't take a scientific genius to work out whats going on here.  The leg of ham (or boar) is dry cured in salt to remove all the moisture ( a process that usually takes 2 months or so).

It seems the Italians, indeed the Romans were rather thrifty.  They made dried pasta as a means of storing wheat and they made prosciutto as a means of storing ham, in an age where refrigeration was far from inception.

Prosciutto proliferated out of the Northeast of Italy into Slovenia and the former Yugoslavian countries.  I have eaten pršut in Croatia and can attest to its very high quality indeed (arguably better than some Spanish and Italian hams).

In my opinion I think both jamon (iberico) and prosciutto have their places, and are more compatible with certain ingredients than others.  I would also be happy to use cook prosciutto (like the wrapped asparagus I made recently) but I would not put pata negra in the oven (it's a waste).

Last night I simply served some prosciutto crudo with potato cakes and it was epic.  Simple dinner, but high-rolling taste.

Potato and Cabbage cakes with prosciutto crudo

 

1000 ways to screw up a potato.

What a phenomena Sir Walter Raleigh created when he brought back the humble potato from South America.  I wonder, if at the time he gauged the brevity of his action?  The humble starchy sphere is now, perhaps unfairly, credited for augmenting the girth of millions of fat Westerners in the guise of "french fries" and "potato chips".

Baking a potato, in the oven, is, in my opinion the best way to cook them.  A crunchy outer skin (where most of the flavour is) combined with a fluffy interior, drenched in butter is difficult to beat.  Of course, though, we do try to beat this simplistic utopia with the addition of a multitude of toppings ranging from chile con carne to tuna and sweetcorn.


My experimentation last week with the time honoured "scooping technique" lead me to expand and experiment with this method.  In my fridge I had some smoked mackerel, some soured cream and some really fresh watercress.

Sour Cream and Mackerel Scoops

Here's how you make them:

•   Heat your oven (fan assisted) to 180C.
•   Scrub two large potatoes suitable for baking (floury type).
•   Place the spuds into a baking tray, drizzle with olive oil and season generously with black pepper and sea salt.
•   Place the potatoes in the oven, then immediately turn down to 140C.
•   Leave the potatoes to cook for 1 hour, or until the flesh inside is soft and yielding to a knife.  
•   During this time, remove the skin from 3 smoked mackerel fillet.  Pull the fillets apart into chunks and place in a bowl.
•   Add 1 small tub, 150g of soured cream.
•   Remove the potatoes from the oven.  Cut in half and using a spoon, remove 75% of the flesh from the potato.  Add to the fish and cream.
•   Mix the fish, cream and potato together.  Add some more pepper but no salt (the mackerel is salty enough).
•   Replace the mix into the empty potato skins.
•   Cook on 140C for a further 20-30 minutes, or until the tops are lightly golden in colour.

The watercress works exceptionally well with this dish.  The peppery flavour combines with the fish and in my opinion is definitely the best salad leaf to serve with baked spuds.


I dressed the watercress using a vinaigrette enhanced with Dijon mustard - I thought that if I used English mustard it might be somewhat overpowering.  It was the right choice.

Sausage Curry!

I have curried a great many things during my joyous appreciation of Indian cooking.  I have curried fishfingers and omelette with great success in the past.  One thing which doesn't stand out as a serious contender for the "please curry me" competition is sausage - apart from vindaloo I struggle to think of pork being used much in Indian recipes.

I first came abreast of a curried sausage recipe in the archetypal Indian cookery book, "Illustrated Indian Cookery" by Madhur Jaffrey, which, incidentally is the bible.  Madhur introduced me to a great, if simplistic recipe for curried chipolata's.

Sausage Curry

•   Put one large or 2 medium onions, a thumbs length of ginger and 4 cloves of garlic into a blender.  Blend to a smooth paste.
•   To a heavy based pan, or ideally a karahi add some ghee or a neutral oil - I used a combination of both.  Add a pinch of asoefetida (Yes, I know it stinks, but once cooked it adds a real catalytic effect).
•   Add the paste and stir fry until it softens and finally colours - this can take 10 minutes or so.
•   I had a great spice mix left over from my sri-lankan roti recipe, so I used this because it was quite concentrated with fennel.  You can use a pre-mixed curry powder if you like.  I used 2 heaped teaspoons.  If you want a decent spice blend then see below.
•  Cook the spices for 2 minutes.
•  Add a tin of peeled plum tomatoes.  Stir to mix and break.
•  Season well with salt and pepper.
•  Add 4 thinly sliced, pre-grilled butchers sausages.
•  You might notice I had sweetcorn in mine (from the photo).  This was only because I had some left over from my sons tea and I didnt want to waste it.
•   I also added 3 seeded, dried red cherry bomb chilli's.
•   Allow to cook for an hour, add water if it gets a little sticky.   

If you want to make your own curry powder you can tailor-make it to your individual taste, or to the dish you are making.  For a general curry powder you can use the following:

•   2 teaspoons of powdered cumin and coriander.
•   1 teaspoon of regular paprika and one of chilli powder.
•   Half a teaspoon of crushed fennel seeds and powdered turmeric.
•   Half a teaspoon of crushed black pepper.
•   Half a teaspoon of garam masala. 

Chickenfest.

I decided an early visit to the butchers was in order.  At 8am prompt I was duly ordering my goods:  minced chicken, 6 chicken thighs, 6 sausages (2 chorizo ones, on order by my 4 year old) and some diced lamb (for a casserole for my 1 year old).

Nothing new to see here, I'm afraid, as I made 2 of my favourite chicken dishes - chicken tikka (with the thighs) and spicy chicken burgers (with the mince).  

The thighs are cooked on maximum temperature in the oven for 25 minutes, and the patties are seared on a griddle, about 3 minutes each side.

Chicken Tikka

 Some people like to add red/yellow food colouring to this, but I see no benefit from smothering something in e-numbers.  It looks tasty enough as it is.

 The delicious chicken patties were flavoured with paprika, a little chilli powder and a generous addition of fresh chopped parsley.  I served them in pitta breads with salad and mayonnaise.

Middle Eastern Spicing.

I am confident that I am at a point in my culinary career where I understand how Indian and sub-Indian spices are used.  Where I am not quite so brazen is with middle eastern spices.  I am not the worlds biggest fan of cinnamon - I don't mind some whole stick used to temper a curry, but I find the powdered stuff too sweet and obnoxious.  I put it down to having had to walk around "Mall of America" some years ago, with a searing hangover and having to smell the onslaught of cinnamon bagels from every angle.

Another frequent component of middle-eastern cooking are pine nuts - an additional ingredient I am not a huge proponent of.  Whenever I eat them their creamy consistency makes me think I am eating insect larvae.


Having said that, I do love the cuisine from this area.  I have eaten a lot of Lebanese food (in London) and we have travelled as a family around Jordan - I adore fuul.  


Two of my favourite cookbooks in the world are "Moro" and "Casa Moro" - the dynamic spread of Iberian and Middle eastern cooking in both of those books have been catalytic in my comprehension and appreciation from this region of the world.

One recipe in particular I come back to time and time again.  It is a recipe that is rather simple to make, but you can use it to show-off with your friends - it's rather theatrical.

Potato cakes stuffed with lamb

•     Boil 700g of peeled potatoes.  When they are soft, remove from the heat and mash.  
•  In a frying pan add some butter and a little oil.  Finely chop an onion and add it to the pan.
•  Casa Moro recipe does not call for garlic, but I think it is essential in this dish.  Add 2 finely chopped garlic cloves.
•  When the onions have softened and browned a little add:
•   3 cloves, ground to powder
•   The ground black seeds of 3 (Moro says green, I prefer black) cardamoms
•   A healthy pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
•   A tiny amount, 1/5 tsp ground cinnamon (Moro says more, but I think it overpowers)
•   Some ground black pepper
•   I add a finely ground hot red chilli - I think it needs it, though this is omitted by Moro

•  Fry the spices in the onions for 1 minute
•  Add 250g minced lamb.  Don't stir fry it, try to get a caramelized crust on the lamb.  This takes 10 minutes or so on a medium heat
•  Add a teaspoon of tomato puree
•  Add one teaspoon of salt (or to taste)
•  Add a bunch of finely chopped fresh parsley
•  Moro requests pine nuts, but I don't like them
•  Stir the mixture and remove from the heat
•  Add a tablespoon of flour to the mashed potatoes and mix.
•  Take a quarter of the potato mixture.  Flatten into a disc about the diameter of the palm of your hand.
•  Take a nice heaped tablespoon of the lamb mixture. Place in the centre of the potato disc.
•  Slowly, by cupping your hands bring the sides of the potato up around the mixture.  You will get to the point where there is just a little hole at the top, where the lamb mixture is.
•  Sometimes I try to cram as much spiced lamb as I can in.  Seal the hole.
•   You should have a hearty-sized potato cake.  Repeat for the other remaining 3 cakes.
•   Add some olive oil to a decent frying pan.  Medium heat.
•   Put the cakes in, 2 at a time and fry.  Do not be tempted to turn them too early.  You need to build up a golden crust.
•   Repeat for the other 2 cakes.

If you look at my picture you will see one perfectly formed, golden-crusted cake, and one that looks a bit "mish-mash".  Last night I cooked 4 at a time, 2 in 2 different pans.  One pan was a well known, orange French manufacturer, the other a cheap frying pan.  It just goes to show how a decent frying pan is such a worthwhile investment.  The cheap pan did not conduct the heat as effectively, and consequently the cakes were a bit mushy.

You say Zucchini I say Courgette!

Ah the life-long struggle between English-English and American-English:  is it tom-ah-to?  is it tom-ay-to?  Is it zucchini or is it courgette?  Eggplant or Aubergine?  If the truth be told, we have these discussion in our house regarding English-English:  is it sc-own-e or sc-on?  I am most definitely of the sc-own-e persuasion.  I mean, when did you last talk to someone on the phon, in the zon whilst eating an ice-cream con?  There's an e on the end of scone, and it should be pronounced.

Yearly we have to deal with a seasonal glut of courgettes - we plant them each year.  Sometimes we plant yellow ones, sometimes the conventional green-flecked skins.  Our veggie-box had 3 courgettes in it this week and we had to decide what to do with them.  

Courgettes are a versatile vegetable, they can be stuffed with minced meat, chopped into rounds and fried in butter or finely shredded and made into fritters.  And that is just what I did with them last night:  Courgette and paprika fritters.

They are incredibly easy to make - having said that I did have a partial failure, not on epic proportions though - I didn't get enough of the water out.  I recommend using a muslin and squeezing out as much water as you can muster. 

Courgette, Cheddar and Paprika Fritters 

•   Wash and grate 2 courgettes.  You need to get as much excess water out.  You can do what I did and lay them out, salted, on a paper towel for 30 minutes, or what I recommend you do - put them into a clean muslin and squeeze out the last remaining drops.
•   Finely chop half a small onion, add to the bowl.
•   Put the courgette into a bowl and season well.
•   Add 1 teaspoon of paprika and half a teaspoon of chilli powder.
•   Add 200g of grated cheddar cheese (feta would work well too).
•   Add 2 eggs.  Mix well.
•   Heat some oil in a heavy-based frying pan.  
•   When the oil is hot add one quarter of the mixture, press it flat with a spatula.  Repeat for the second quarter.  Don't be tempted to add more. 
•   Fry for 3-4 minutes without disturbing.  You want to develop a nice crust.
•   Carefully flip each fritter.
•   Cook on the second side until golden brown - about 4 minutes. 

I served them with the perennial English classic, Heinz baked beans (yes, we do eat a lot).