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!