Poor man's potatoes

If you have ever read Chris Stewart's mirth-inducing trio of books about his transition from Genesis drummer to Spanish subsistence farmer you will be familiar with the rustic Iberian treat of "patatas al o pobre".  It's a great way to eat potatoes, and really should be more widely appreciated than its better known cousin, "patatas bravas" (which incidentally means "wild potatoes" not "brave").

I struggle to think of anything more appealing (as an Englishman) as potatoes, cooked in olive oil with peppers, onion, garlic and bay leaves.  Ideally you should use a waxy potato, to inhibit the propensity of a more floury potatoes tendency to go mushy, but I can attest that good old Maris pipers work just as well (as long as you temper the heat and cut them nice and thick).

Patatas al o pobre

It is stupefyingly simple to concoct - here's how you do it:

•   Add approximately 4 generous tablespoons of good olive oil to a thick bottomed pan and heat under a medium heat.
•   Peel and thinly slice 3 medium onions.  Add them to the pan and cook slowly for 15 or so minutes until they become golden, sticky and sweetly perfumed.
•   Meanwhile chop 2 peppers - doesn't matter which colour you use - I used orange and red in mine tonight.  Roughly chopped is fine.  Add them to the pan.
•   Peel and thinly slice 4 garlic cloves.  Add them to the pan.
•   Add 2 bay leaves.
•   Peel 4-5 medium sized potatoes or a bag of 500g waxy potatoes.  Cut into chunks (see my picture above).  Add them to the pan.
•   Season well with salt and black pepper.
•   Top up with oil if you think it needs it (this is an oily dish).
•   Cook until the potatoes are soft but not disintegrating.

 

Chorizo - to peel or not to peel?

Pretty much every country in the civilized world has a sausage of some sorts or another.  Naturally, we, in England like to think we produce the greatest bangers of all time.  Having travelled a bit, and sampled the worlds finest sausages, I am beginning to think that actually our sausages are a bit boring.  Pork and leek, and cracked-black pepper seem to be the most extreme length we will go as far as flavourings are concerned.  Of course, there is the school of thought that propagates the theory of, "if it aint broke, don't fix it".  But there is so much more you can do with a sausage.

In the UK we seem to only have traditional sausages, i.e ones that require cooking.  We do briefly flirt with the concept of a blood sausage, but most people find this concept repellent at best.

I do love a cured sausage, whether it be a saucisson from France, a spicy landjaeger from Germany, or my particular favourite - the chorizo from Spain.  Now, I don't want to be accused of forgetting Portugal here, because they also make a mean chouriço - I can testify, having eaten many of them last year.

There's something about the pimenton in chorizo that attracts me.  I adore both the vivid orange colour, and the deep, smoke-infused paprika spice that it yields.  I also love a chorizo that is steeped in red wine and oodles of garlic.

For the uneducated amongst you, there are really two types of chorizo. There is the cured chorizo, which we see frequently in our shops and supermarkets.  This is either dulce (sweet) or picante (hot) - dependent on the type of paprika used.  It is for sure always a smokey paprika.  

The slightly lesser known type of chorizo is the fresco (fresh) variety - i.e this needs to be cooked.  Often you will find this labelled as "cooking chorizo"  This "cooking" label does not infer or confer sub-sufficiency, indeed it often heralds a much more tasty sausage - just don't eat it raw. 

One thing, though, which I cannot abide is the paper-like casings on cured chorizo (and frequently most cured sausages).  I always remove this horrible husk - even with cooking it does little to render it palatable.  I often wonder if I am being pedantic (I often am)?

We're going to squeeze in a barbecue later today, since the weather appears to be turning just in time for the weekend.  I'm going to make some chicken kebabs and I am now horrified by the fact that I do not have any chorizo left to skewer along with my chicken (we ate it all last night in the risotto!).  Ah well, with the benefit of hindsight... 

Viva Espana

By now you might well have ascertained that I am an indubitable proponent of Spanish food (and wine).  The English have an unfounded belief that Spanish food will give you a "jippy tummy" and that Spanish wine is "plonk" that will give you a violent hangover.

I have travelled around Spain on many an occasion, starting at the age of 17 when I went inter-railing.  I have an abundance of endearing memories of Spain, one of which stems from a holiday to the Costa Tropicale 2 years ago.  

A quick geography lesson:  the Costa Tropicale is reached by flying to Malaga, getting into a car and then driving in the polar opposite direction to the rest of your average, English Costa vacationers, i.e east.  About one and a half's hour drive east from Malaga airport will bring you to sunny Salobrena, a sleepy little Spanish seaside town.  Quite charming it was too, and proved to be an excellent base with which to explore the surrounding area.

We found a totally deserted beach quite close to la Herradurra, actually it wasn't totally deserted as we noticed a naked swimmer a bit further up...  We exploited this rare phenomena for a few hours (the deserted beach, not the naked swimmer) before the midday hunger pangs set in.  A short stroll up the beach revealed a beach-side restaurant, totally empty except for the smiling patron who, it turns out is the now, fully clothed naked swimmer!


Oddly enough our patron was Italian, but she shared a similar love of Spanish cuisine.  She cooked a simple tortilla for me and I enjoyed it so much I got the (extremely simple) recipe from her to take home to Blighty.


Here's how you make it:

•   Boil 4 to 5 small to medium floury potatoes until they are soft but not disintegrating.  Allow to cool then slice about 1cm thick rounds.
•   In a thick-based large frying pan or skillet, fry one medium onion in some olive in until it softens.  The purist tortilla should not contain garlic, but I cannot resist adding a clove or two, finely chopped.
•   Whisk 3-4 medium eggs until combined and aerated.
•   Begin layering the potatoes in the pan trying not to overlap them.  
•   Season the eggs with a good pinch of salt and black pepper and then pour over the potato and onion mixture.
•   Again, the purist recipe will not contain cheese, but you can grate over some manchego, or perhaps some parmegiano.
•   Allow the base to set - this takes 3 minutes or so on a medium heat.  During this time heat your grill.
•   Take the frying pan off the heat and place under the grill.  Grill the top layer until it rises and becomes golden in colour.

Eat it with a fresh salad, or simply some dressed tomatoes.


This is exactly what I ate last night.  It's simple, effective cooking at its best, and quite frankly it is far superior to any omelette in my opinion.

Sausage Casserole - Spanish Stylie

I was speaking to a friend the other day.  They had 12 people over for dinner and requested some possible easy-cook recipes.  I mentioned the possibility of sausage casserole and the response I got was, "oh I don't want to be cheap".  For me, a sausage casserole is the pinnacle of pork decadence.

There are, of course, many ways to enjoy the succulence of a decent banger.  Simply fried in the pan, or under the grill is a splendid way of encouraging them to yield their unctuous fatty rewards.  Slow-cooking them after you have briefly grilled them though leads to a teasingly friable digit that can be eaten with the blunt edge of a spoon.

I have tinkered with this recipe and used various methods and ingredients.  Indeed you can pretty much use this recipe as a conduit to get rid of things languishing in the back of the fridge.  Fennel works especially well in this - its haunting aniseed flavour pleasingly combining with the coarse grain of the salty sausage.  I have used stocks (chicken and vegetable) and wine to intensify the main gravy, but you can simply top it up with water too - it works fine.

One thing that I definitely insist on though (for that Spanish kick) is some punchy smoked paprika.  Dulce (sweet) or the fiery version of this pimenton work, but I prefer the hotter one personally.

We have had mixed results in our herb garden.  We simply cannot curtail the rosemary bush, and our thyme equally excels.  Flat leaf parsley, coriander and basil though, seem to dislike the distant reaches of suburbia and will not thrive.  Freshly picked thyme works wonders in this casserole - you don't even need to shred the leaves.  A few twiggy branches of the heady stuff will catalyze the flavours perfectly.

Here's a bare bones recipe (you can tailor it to your own design) - I will post a picture of the finished product this evening:

• Fry the sausages (decent butchers ones) in a thick-bottomed pan until they are nicely browned.  Remove them.
• One large or 2 medium onions chopped.  Add them into the pan with some olive oil.
• Garlic.  Lots of it.  5 or 6 cloves, roughly chopped.  In it goes.
• Add whatever you like now - some fennel, peppers or potatoes.  It works equally well just with garlic and onions though.  Fry them off to soften - just.
• Preheat oven to 140 Celcius.
• Add a tin of plum tomatoes.  Season.  
• Add some fresh thyme.  Sticks attached if you are lazy.
• 3/4 tsp of smoked paprika.
• You can add some red wine if you like, though this is not necessary.  It does intensify the gravy though.  If you don't add wine then add a big glass of water (about 500ml).
• Stick a lid on.  Put it into the oven.  Cook for 1.5-2hrs.

Eat it served with a nice cheeky Spanish.  And by that I mean a decent temperanillo or garnacha, not someone called Miguel who has an annoying habit of poking you.