Not so fishy fish
It’s a dark and rainy night tonight in London and following a blissful ten days on Crete with temperatures soaring between 36 and 40 degrees, the cool and damp air is strangely welcome.
Colder weather invariably makes me long for something more than light summer fare. So tonight’s simple and delicious tomato and anchovy pasta is the perfect match to the darkening skies and also works well with my very empty post-holiday pantry.
Those who know me well will be surprised that I am cooking with anchovies. Until a few years ago, I didn’t like fish, and while fish is now one of my favourite things to cook with and to order when out, I’m rather picky at the type of fish. You see I still have a rather strong aversion to anything tasting, well, ‘fishy’. Strange, but true. This means a rather strong aversion to anchovies. Cam, on the other hand, loves them. And so a few weeks ago in an attempt to appease his tastebuds, I made this pasta sauce. And surprisingly loved it. Probably because you can’t even really taste the anchovies. But they do give the pasta a rich salty taste, and I wouldn’t even try to make it without them. This was brilliant for me, but did cause a slight panic from Cam, who didn’t ask for anchovies only not to be able to taste them. So he gets extras, lightly fried in olive oil, sitting on top.
I’ve taken this recipe from my favourite food blogger – Rachel Eats. Her blog is mouth-wateringly good and everytime I look at it I think I should give up on this one. Rachel’s blog is everything mine is not – beautiful photos, constant updates and hundreds of readers. My excuse is that she lives in Rome, and so she’s bound to have a good blog. Plonk me in Italy and I’m sure my blog would be just as good as hers….
Rachel (of course) makes her own pasta to go with this. And while we recently got our own pasta machine, after a slightly disastrous attempt at making ravioli a few weeks ago, tonight it’s staying in the cupboard. Instead I will mix the sauce through wholewheat pasta, and serve with a bowl of salad leaves doused in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Cam will get a few fried anchovies on top of his pasta, as for me – I’ll be sticking to some grated parmesan and fresh basil. Simple and delicious
Tomato and anchovy sauce
1 plump clove of garlic, very finely chopped
5 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
8 anchovy fillets (more if you are an anchovy lover, and some extras to put on top)
One large tin of chopped tinned plum tomatoes (if I have fresh ones that need using I throw them in too)
A generous amount of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Parmesan and fresh basil to put on top
Gently warm the oil in a frying or saute pan, add the garlic and allow it to cook very gently for a few minutes – it should not brown or it will taste bitter.
Add the anchovy fillets to the pan and gently prod and mash them with the back of a wooden spoon until they dissolve and melt (the key to not being able to taste them!)
Add the tomatoes, salt and a few grindings of black pepper to the pan and adjust the heat so the sauce cooks at a gentle but steady simmer for 30 minutes or until the sauce is thick and (as Rachel puts it) the oil floats free from the sauce.
Serve with dried or fresh spaghetti or dried spaghetti. I like to put the cooked spaghetti in the pan with the sauce so that the strands of pasta are enveloped in the rich goodness. For anchovy fans, gently fry a few in a pan with olive oil and serve on top. For non-fishy fish fans, a light grating of parmesan and some fresh basil leaves is just perfect.
At home Michelin
This year Michelin starred chef Raymond Blanc made London’s chilly winter liveable with his endearing cooking show on the beeb. Not only did the food look mouth-wateringly good, he was rather charming to watch. I’ve only so far tried this recipe below, but it was so incredible that I’ve made it twice. Both times Cam and I have agreed that it is one of our most favourite dishes ever, and we would be happy to have it served up at any fine dining establishment. Or indeed in our wee lounge.
Despite being half Irish, I’m not the biggest fan of potatoes. In fact when I was little and stuck at the table with a pile of them on my plate, I would stuff them in my pockets or mouth and then ‘need to go to the toilet’ where I would flush them away. But there was one exception – potatoes mashed to perfection by my most wonderful stepfather Clive. To this day I don’t know how he did it, but he mashed and whipped until there was not a single lump to be found.
Left to my own resources (Cam isn’t so fussy on the mashing) and not wanting to ruin the meal with lumpy spuds, I decided to sieve my semi-mashed potatoes. Walking in and seeing the mess I was making, Cam wasn’t impressed at all, but his horror changed to delight once he tasted them and declared that they were possibly the best mashed potatoes he had tried. My other trick is to add a little bit of chicken stock. If you’ve only got powder that will do (just a sprinkle), or add some liquid or stock jelly with the milk. Delicious.
I served this with some purple sprouting broccoli which I sautéed until only just cooked in water, lemon juice and butter. I’m already planning to make this again soon. Enjoy!
For the pommes purées
1kg potatoes, such as Desirée, Belle de Fontenay, Estima or Maris Piper, peeled, cut into quarters
2 litre cold water
200ml full-fat milk (I used less)
60g unsalted butter (I used less)
sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
chicken stock
For the fish
4 fish fillets (I used sea bass) skin on, bones removed
4 pinches sea salt
1 pinch freshly ground pepper
60g unsalted butter
50ml hot chicken stock
50ml hot water
3T capers, drained
½ lemon, peeled, segmented, roughly chopped
30g shallot, peeled and finely chopped
handful caper berries
10g chopped fresh flatleaf parsley
10g chopped fresh chevril (if you don’t have any just put in some extra parsley)
Method
For the pommes purées, bring the potatoes to the boil in a large pan of cold, salted water. Reduce the heat until the water is just simmering and cook for 25-30 minutes, or until the potatoes are soft.
Mash the potatoes until smooth using a potato ricer or masher. (I mashed and then put through the sieve to get them extra smooth)
Return the potato purée to a saucepan, add the milk and beat well until combined.
Beat in the butter until the mixture is fluffy and forms firm peaks, then season, to taste, with salt and freshly ground white pepper. Keep warm.
Meanwhile, for the pollock, preheat the oven to 200C.
Pat the pollock fillets dry using kitchen paper, then season with the salt and freshly ground white pepper.
Heat the butter in a frying pan over a medium heat. When the butter is foaming and starting to brown, add the pollock fillets, skin-sides facing upwards, and fry for 4-5 minutes, or until two thirds of each fish fillet has turned opaque.
Using a fish slice, carefully turn each pollock fillet over and continue to cook for a further 2-3 minutes.
Transfer the fish fillets to a cold roasting pan and roast in the oven for 3-4 minutes, or until just cooked through, then set the fish fillets aside on a warm plate to rest.
Return the frying pan used to cook the pollock to a high heat. If you can use the left juices in the pan to start your sauce. If you burn the butter too much like I did, clean out the pan, but add some butter to your sauce and pour in any juices from the fish once they come out of the oven. Add the brown chicken stock and water and bring to the boil.
Add the capers, chopped lemon segments, shallots, caper berries and two-thirds of each of the herbs. Stir well and continue to cook for 1-2 minutes, or until warmed through. Squash the lemons with a wooden spoon so the juice comes out into the pan. Season, to taste, with salt and freshly ground white pepper.
To serve, spoon the pommes purées into the centre of each of 4 serving plates. Place one pollock fillet on top of each portion. Spoon over the caper and lemon sauce, sprinkle over the remaining herbs.
lemon curd pots
I always struggle when out for dinner and faced with the choice of either a chocolate or lemon dessert. Both entice in me different ways: chocolate – rich, often gooey, maybe warm and almost always entirely naughty; lemon – refreshing, palate-cleansing and eaten under the illusion that it is not quite so naughty.
It seems some things never change. When I was little my favourite dessert was my mum’s lemon meringue pie, and every birthday it was my request for our family dinner. I even had a lemon meringue doll who blew lemon-scented kisses (and who was rather lovely with long yellow ringlets until at age six I decided I wanted to become a hairdresser and gave her a GI Joe crew cut). But when it came to my birthday parties I always requested a chocolate piano cake – moist cake put together in the shape of a piano, with creamy chocolate frosting, and white chocolate and liquorice ebony and ivory keys. My mum always made us the most amazing birthday cakes (and is in fact is the most incredible cook – one of these days I will dedicate an entire blog to her) and one of my sisters and my own favourite pre-birthday pastimes was going through the Women’s Weekly Birthday Cake Book and picking our cake. Though invariably I always chose the piano, followed by lemon meringue pie for dessert. Old habits die hard.
However on Saturday the choice was, for once, clear. Streaming sun and a promise of fresh fish for dinner lured me to my bookcase to search through my ever-growing and extremely messy pile of recipes ripped out of weekend magazines to find one I’d found just before Easter.
Though not perfect (my curd and mousse-making skills still need improvement), it was sublime. The recipe called for an accompanying citrus salad which to be honest didn’t really do it for me, and so on hearing the cry of ‘two punnets for two pounds, don’t be shy come and buy’ at Borough Markets, I bought ripe juicy red strawberries to layer on top. Perfect.
Lemon Curd Pots (adapted from the Telegraph’s Stella Magazine – no I don’t buy the Telegraph, we get it at work!)
For the curd
6 medium egg yolks
100g caster sugar
finely grated zest of 2 lemons
125ml lemon juice
125g unsalted butter (I was lazy and used salted and would recommend this time following the unsalted rule)
Put all of the ingredients into a mixing bowl and set over a pan of simmering water so it does not touch the bottom of the pan. Stir over the heat for about 15-20mins, until the butter melts and the curd becomes thick. Don’t let it get too hot or the eggs will start to scramble (I took mine off the heat and plunged the bowl in cold water as soon as I saw a strange white bit of scramble!) When it can coat the back of the spoon it is ready. The curd will thicken as it cools. Cool in the bowl and then get 6 glasses. Put a couple of tablespoons of the curd into the bottom of each glass to create your first layer, using all of the mixture. Put in the fridge to start to firm up.
Next make the mousse…
For the mousse
125g caster sugar
2 large eggs separated (make sure they are large – I used medium eggs and had to add another!)
juice and finely grated zest of 2 lemons
2 tsp powdered gelatine
200ml double cream
Using an electric beater whisk the sugar and yolks together in a large bowl until pale and thick – for about 10 mins. Whisk in the lemon juice and zest.
Put 50ml of water into a saucepan and sprinkle evenly with the gelatine. Leave it until it ‘sponges’ (not long!), then gently warm over a very low heat (be careful – if you overheat gelatine it loses its setting properties). When it has dissolved, whisk it into the yolk mixture.
In another bowl, beat the cream until if forms soft peaks (double cream becomes thick quickly as I learnt – don’t overbeat like I did or you will get small lumps of cream in your mousse!), and then fold into the yolk mixture.
Finally, in yet another bowl, whisk the egg whites until the form stiff peaks the, using a large metal spoon, fold them into the cream/yolk mixture, being careful not to knock out the air.
Spoon over the lemon curd in the bottom of each glass, cover with gladwrap (or as the Brits say, clingfilm) and put in the fridge to set. When ready to eat cut the strawberries in half and scatter on top to form your final layer.
Enjoy!
really need to work on my photography...
An Ode to Summer
Yesterday was the most beautiful day in London. Our outdoor thermometer hit 27 degrees, though the weatherman declared it only to be 21. Whatever the temperature, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and from early morning I began to plan a summery feast based on fresh fish and lemons, two of my favourite summer flavours.
Being a basement flat our wee home here in Borough doesn’t get too much sun, which for a sun-fiend like me is slightly distressing. However its saving grace is the back garden which now the tree have been trimmed does see a lot of sun. While it’s one of our favourite things about our house, and makes us feel as though we don’t live in quite so much of a shoebox, it has been a little neglected of late. Well, since we moved in. In fact, aside from an afternoon of weeding by Cam’s parents when they were here last July, we haven’t touched it ever, give or take a couple of whip rounds with the electric mower (it plugs in – quite a novelty the first time). It’s not exactly a large space to have to manage – perhaps 4x4m – and so size can’t be used as an excuse for our neglect.
However as of yesterday times are a changing and old greenfingers and me got out in the garden for a couple of hours and weeded, hoed, repotted and dreamed of transforming it into a space that will make us want to spend every waking hour there. And then instead of our planned afternoon trip to Regent’s Park, we snubbed the tube ride and sat on our own wee park bench nibbling on a mezze lunch of dolmades, artichoke salad, hummus and pita bread while reading the Guardian and enjoying the neighbours excellent choice of music wafting into our own patch of green (Jeff Buckley, Johnny Cash and even a bit of Foo Fighters. Nice)
There’s something about a perfectly sunny day that makes me crave fresh fish and so late afternoon we wandered down to Borough Markets and picked up some haddock from the somewhat rude fishmongers who, despite their arrogance, have the best fish I’ve found in London.
One of my all-time favourite dishes is Mezze Bar’s Fish Dish. Simple name, but the most delicious concoction ever. From about the age of 16, until a few years ago when it moved from it’s Queen St corner perch, I went to Mezze Bar at least once a month just to eat this (along with the chocolate torte, chocolate buttermilk cake, and sticky date slice). Mezze Bar was a bit of a hangout, and me and my friends spent hours there drinking coffee, red wine, and of course eating fish. I’ve tried to recreate the Fish Dish a few times, but never quite succeeded. To be honest, I’ve forgotten exactly what was in it, except for the strong, garlicy aioli, roasted tomatoes, cous cous and the fish.
For dessert I wanted to keep evoking the taste of summer and so made Lemon Curd Pots with fresh strawberries from Borough. I’ve been waiting to make this since ripping the recipe out of a weekend magazine many a Sunday ago. Homemade curd, topped with a layer of lightly lemon-flavoured mousse and finished with a layer of fresh strawberries is my idea of summer bliss. And it was. (recipe for dessert to come tomorrow, dinner below…)
And so last night, following a beautiful day in our wee garden I invited our lovely friend Emma over, popped open a bottle of Malborough Sauvignon Blanc, put on Jeff Buckley (inspired by the neighbours) and went to work.
Firstly I squeezed, whipped, beat and stirred, making a zesty curd and not-so-smooth mousse (I overbeat the cream), layered them into their individual glasses and in the fridge to set, and then started on dinner.
I began by roasting a head of garlic, waiting for it to cool and then making it into strong aioli while enjoying the smell of roast garlic left wafting through my kitchen. Next Cam chopped some tomatoes and fresh herbs and I simmered them gently with oil and spices to to make a delicious sauce to spoon over some fluffy cous cous. The fish was pan-fried, skin golden and crispy, and more tomatoes were roasted in a slow oven until they were about to burst. I put it together on a bed of rocket and sprinkled the top with toasted pine nuts and roasted whole blanched almonds. While it wasn’t the Mezze Fish Dish as I knew it, the result was nevertheless still delicious.
Roast Garlic Aioli (taken from Maggie’s Harvest – possibly the most beautiful and useful cookbook)
1/2 head garlic
sea salt & freshly ground black pepper
15 ml lemon juice
1 large egg yolk
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Preheat the oven to 180 degrees celsius. Wrap the garlic in foil and bake until soft. Cool and then squeeze out the garlic into a food processor. Add the salt, pepper and lemon juice and whiz until mixed. Then add the egg yolk and whiz until well combined. Begin to add the oil in a slow stream, then move to a steady stream as the aioli begins to emulsify.
Harra Sauce (adapted from Saha – divine Lebanese and Syrian cookbook)
30ml extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 tsp fresh red chilli (I use it from a jar)
1 t ground cumin
1/2 t ground cinnamon
salt and pepper
6 tomatoes finely chopped
juice of one lemon
1/4 cup chopped coriander
1/4 cup chopped flat leaf parsley
Heat the oil in a frying pan and saute the garlic for a few seconds before adding the chilli and spices. Fry gently for a few minutes then add the rest of the ingredients and simmer gently for 10 mins.
a meal of anticipation
Sunday nights are my favourite time to cook, usually accompanied by music and a glass of good wine. Tonight is no exception as I make a recipe I’ve been eying up all week while listening to a mix of poppy country-inspired She & Him (a duo featuring the delightful Zooey Deschanel from the even more delightful 500 Days of Summer) and Mumford and Son and sipping on some Italian Pinot Grigio.
Last week I bought a beautiful new cookbook called Saha. Much more than a cookbook, it is really both a tale of travel and food by Lebanese Australian chef Greg Malouf as he retraces his roots through Syria and Lebanon. Not only to gain inspiration from the delicious looking food, I bought it as inspiration for our own trip to these Middle Eastern lands in two weeks time. The book is full of incredible photos, stories of local restaurants, vineyards and people and makes my mouth water for both our upcoming holiday and the food I will make inspired from Malouf’s own journey.
One of the many recipes to catch my eye has been this chicken and eggplant pilaf. One of my all-time favourite recipes is a Greek chicken pilaf and I’m hoping that this yields similar results.
Ingredients
Poached chicken
1 large chicken breast on the bone (I used thighs)
1 small onion, quartered
1 stick celery
Sprig of thyme
2 bay leaves
1 small cinnamon stick
1⁄2 lemon
1⁄2 teaspoon white peppercorns
1⁄2 teaspoon allspice berries
Pilaf
1 medium eggplant, peeled
Salt
120 ml (4 fl oz) olive oil
50 g (2 oz) pine nuts
50 g (2 oz) flaked almonds
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small onion, finely diced
150 g (5 oz) lean minced lamb
1⁄2 teaspoon cinnamon
1⁄2 teaspoon ground allspice
Large pinch of salt
250 g (9 oz) long-grain rice, rinsed well
600 ml (22 fl oz) chicken stock (reserved from the poached chicken)
Ground cinnamon
Big bunch of flat leaf parsley
Juice of a large lemon
Put the chicken and all the aromatics into a small saucepan with enough water to cover.
Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave the chicken for 20 minutes in the hot stock. Reserve the stock for cooking the rice. To make the pilaf, first cut the eggplant into thin slices. Put them into a colander and sprinkle with salt. After 20 minutes, rinse them under cold water and pat them dry with kitchen paper.
Heat the olive oil in a large non-stick frying pan and fry the pine nuts until golden brown.
Remove them from the pan and drain on kitchen paper. Repeat the process with the almonds. In the same oil, fry the eggplant slices on both slices until golden brown, adding a little more oil, if necessary. Heat the tablespoon of olive oil in a large saucepan and sauté the onion gently until it softens. Turn up the heat, add the lamb and sauté until all the juices have evaporated. Add the spices and salt, and stir well. Add the rice and stir again before pouring on the reserved chicken stock. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat, cover the pan and simmer gently for 20 minutes. Once cooked flavour with lots of lemon juice and parsley.
While the rice is cooking, pull the chicken meat off the bone and shred it roughly into largish pieces. Much of the pleasure of this dish comes from the presentation, so find a deep round bowl and lightly oil the inside. Lie the pieces of chicken inside, going threequarters of the way up the sides. Arrange the eggplant slices on top of the chicken, then carefully spoon in the cooked rice. Pack it in fairly tightly and smooth the surface flat. Leave to stand for a few moments before inverting onto a serving platter. Garnish with the pine nuts and almonds and dust with cinnamon. Serve with a bowl of cool, creamy yoghurt or Labneh, and perhaps a simple green salad.
Turning Japanese
When we were growing up we had Japanese students boarding with us, and so from an early age I have eaten and loved Japanese food. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of these times: my sister, my mum and I gathering around the table eating sukiyaki and tempura made by one of the girls staying with us; helping to roll sushi using bamboo mats and dried nori, making and eating Japanese pickles; nibbling on sweet Japanese egg omelette; and my mum coming to my class to teach us how to do a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. And then there was our favourite boarder, Fuyuko, who pulled my sister and I around the garden in a toboggan for a few hours straight off a 18 hour flight from Tokyo. Paired with Hello Kitty stationary and endless other cartoon-inspired sweets, I’m not surprised we learned to love all things Japanese.
Auckland has some of the best Japanese restaurants and bars I’ve been to – Sake Bar k where the Teriyaki Chicken is possibly the meal I would choose as my last, and Tanuki’s Cave, a beer and plum wine quaffing cellar with yakatori and big bowls of donburi. I haven’t yet found any worthy of these here in London, though did find a cheap and cheerful and rather delicious wee cafe in Oxford. There I had the most delicious Teriyaki Salmon and ever since (a mere two weeks ago) I’ve been craving it. And so last night I made it. It was incredible. Fresh salmon, sticky japanese rice and a gooey sweet teryaki sauce. mmmmm. I served it with some sauteed samphire – a kind of seaweed which I discovered a few months ago at my favourite gastropub The Bull & Last. I don’t like seaweed (so don’t actually eat sushi), but samphire is amazing. (read this for more info: http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2007/jun/30/features.weekend) I’ve been looking for it everywhere since last July, and finally found some on Sunday. Salty and green, tt is a perfect accompaniment to sweet and rich teriyaki.
Ingredients
4 salmon, skin on
1 tbsp olive oil
For the teriyaki sauce
275ml soy sauce
140 ml sake
140ml mirin
120g sugar
To Serve
Japanese sushi rice (cooked as per instructions on the packet)|
Lightly sauted greens (I used Samphire in lemon and oil)
Method
Mix all the ingredients for the teriyaki sauce together and stir until the sugar dissolves. Marinate the salmon fillets in half of the sauce for at least 2-3 hours, ideally 5-6 hours.
Half an hour before you are ready to cook the salmon, pour the remaining sauce into a saucepan and cook on the lowest heat for about 30 minutes, until thickened. Preheat the oven to 240C/gas 9, or its highest temperature.
Put the salmon fillets in an ovenproof dish, skin-side up. Make sure the skin doesn’t burn – if necessary cover with tinfoil. Cook for about 5 –6 minutes in the hot oven. Take it out of the oven, remove the tin foil (if you have used it) and brush the oil over the skin. Put it back in the oven and cook further 5-6 min. Make sure the skin is slightly burned and crisp.
Serve the salmon skin-side up on the bed of rice and spoon over the reduced teriyaki sauce. Place sauteed greens over the top.
Homemade gnocchi
If there is one book which I can say has truly transformed my kitchen and never fails to impress me with its mouth-watering creations, it’s Ottolenghi. I was given it by Logan – favourite cousin, friend and fellow-foodie – for my 30th last year. I’d never seen it before, and had never been to Ottolenghi here in London, but within days I was a convert. Everything I’ve made from it is incredible, and the following gnocchi recipe is no exception.
To be honest, I’ve never been much of a fan of gnocchi – finding it too heavy and, dare I say it, rather glue-like – however I’ve been eyeing up this recipe since June last year, hoping it might just change my opinion for the better. And it did. Ricotta-based, this is nothing like floury, potatoy gnocchi which I hate. I don’t even think this should be called gnocchi. It is delicious and I’m already planning to make it again. Soon.
Aubergine-Wrapped Ricotta Gnocchi
Adapted from Ottolenghi – Serves 2 as a main
1 small aubergine
Olive oil
30g pine nuts, lightly toasted
250g ricotta cheese
2 egg yolks
35g plain flour
50g Parmesan, grated
1 tbsp chopped flatleaf parsley
1 tbsp chopped basil
1/4 tsp grated nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
Black pepper
70g butter
20 sage leaves
1/2 tbsp lemon juice
In a large bowl, mix together 40gr Parmesan, the flour, egg yolks, salt, nutmeg and ricotta. Add the parsley, basil and toasted pine nuts, mix thoroughly and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, overnight if possible.
Trim off the top and the bottom of the aubergine and slice to about 5mm thickness lengthways. Brush liberally with olive oil and slow roast until golden and soft. Or put onto a griddled pan until soft.
Scoop a large tablespoon of the gnocchi mixture and using two spoons or wet hands, shape into barrel shapes and set aside. The original recipe suggests making them each with about 3Tbsp of mix. I found these too big and next time will make them about half the size – just slightly bigger than your usual gnocchi.
Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and simmer them, a few at a time. They are done when they float to the surface. Carefully take them out and leave to dry on kitchen towel. Once the dumplings are cool, carefully wrap the aubergine strips around them. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees celcius. Place the aubergine-wrapped gnocchi in an oiled dish, sprinkle with the remaining parmesan and bake for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a pan and simmer until light brown in colour. Turn off the heat, add the sage leaves and the lemon juice.
To serve, place the gnocchi on the plate and drizzle the butter over it.
A hangover dinner
Following Tuesday night’s homemade ricotta and basil gnocchi, and chocolate vodka macarons (recipes to come this weekend I promise!); and then last night’s wee visit to L’Autre Pied (a very good Michelin-starred restaurant with an even better £25 three-course deal) I felt like something a bit more simple for dinner tonight.
One of my favourite British food finds has been smoked haddock. As someone who has seemed to inherit my Poppa’s salty palate (which, as the older I get, is becoming more apparent) I think it’s possibly because smoked haddock is almost impossibly salty, but comes without the guilt of me adding in the salt.
And so I cooked a smoked haddock kedgeree, mixing recipes from Rick Stein and Bart van Olphen & Tom Kime. Known as the perfect hangover breakfast, it also makes a perfect dinner when you feel as if you have overindulged on food rather than alcohol.
Ingredients
600ml milk, for poaching
1/2 bunch of fresh flat-leaf parsley, stalks roughly chopped
smoked haddock fillet, weighing about 700–800g (or any hotsmoked sustainable fish)
50g butter
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
3 cardamon pods
2 bay leaves
½ tsp cayenne pepper
½ tsp ground turmeric
½ tsp ground nutmeg
450g basmati rice
1 litre chicken stock
3 eggs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 lemon
Method
Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Pour the milk into a deep baking dish with the bay leaves and parsley stalks. (if you don’t have time – like I didn’t tonight – poach it quickly in a pot, simmering the milk gently with the fish in for 6-8 mins). If in the oven place both haddock fillets flesh-side down in the milk. Cover with foil, seal the edges and place in the oven for 20 min. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a deep, heavy pan over a low heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook until soft, about 6-8 min. Add the cardamon and spices and stir for a further minute. Add the rice and stir to coat in butter. Add the stock and bring to boiling point. Turn down the heat and allow to simmer for 10 – 12 mins until the rice is cooked. In a separate pan, hard-boil the eggs. Take the fish out of the oven, remove the skin and gently flake the fish, removing all the bones. Add the flaked haddock to the rice and continue to cook. The rice should be tender but still with a little bite. Be careful that the rice does not stick to the bottom. If you need to add any extra liquid, add a little of the fish poaching liquid. Taste the rice and fish and adjust the seasoning. Warm a large serving dish and turn out on to the platter. Shell the hardboiled eggs, cut into quarters and arrange on the plate. Roughly chop the parsley leaves and scatter over the top. Squeeze the lemon over the dish and serve.
Paris comes to London
After scouring the shops for cow’s milk feta, and only finding goat’s or ewe’s (both of which I can’t stand), I’ve had to forgo making Spinikopita and instead resort to risotto. Again.
Based on my favourite River Cafe recipe, tonight I’m leaving out the peas and instead making a lemon and parmesan risotto, to be served with some hot smoked salmon and a rocket, mozzarella and vine-ripened tomato salad.
While there is not much excitement to be had in my kitchen tonight, this afternoon proved to have enough to make up for it. Finally, I made it to Pierre Herme’s new macaron counter in Selfridges. Pierre Herme has been given the grand title of the Picasso of Patissere and is renowned for his delectable macarons, which just the thought of, quite simply makes my mouth water.
I was first introduced to Monsieur Herme last year in Paris. Not one, but two of my favourite foodie friends (Brenda an ex-PR for British Chocolatier of the Year William Curley, and Emily an old friend from New Zealand who lives in Paris, writes a brilliant food blog http://www.dernieremiette.com/, and introduced me to some of my favourite Parisian haunts) recommended his boutique store as a must. When we arrived there was a queue of about 15 people outside. We waited, and were duly rewarded.
We bought a delectable looking treat – rosewater macarons, filled with fresh raspberries and a lychee cream. It’s called a Ispahan, and was possibly the most exquisite morsel of food to ever enter my mouth (until that night when I ate an olive oil and cucumber sorbet served with fresh strawberries – ahhh I love Paris).
And so since I heard three weeks ago that we would finally have the chance to enjoy Pierre Herme here in London I have been waiting to go and taste more. And once again the wait was well worth it.
I couldn’t resist and bought five macarons. Each and every one was incredible, and hands down beat Laduree or any other macarons I’ve had the pleasure of eating. We had strawberry and balsamic, chocolate and blackcurrant (my favourite), pistachio and cinnamon (Cam’s favourite), vanilla, and (to take me back to our Parisian summer break) rosewater and lychee. Every mouthful literally exploded with incredible flavour in our mouths. I am addicted.
If you are in London or Paris, you must go there. As for me, I’ll be sneaking down to Selfridges as often as I can.
In celebration of Spring
Over the past two days the unthinkable has happened here in London and spring seems to have sprung. Not late, not early, but right on time. After a miserable rainy weekend, on Monday (the first official day of spring) the sun, birds and blossoms all came out at once and have stayed around for not one, but two days. After months of grey skies, silent gardens and bare trees, the onset of spring is well worth celebrating (nevermind the forecast of -4 and snow on Thursday).
While it may still be cold outside, when I look out the window and see clear blue skies I immediately want to eat salad. And so tonight’s dinner is a mix of that desire and wanting to make the most of one of my favourite more wintery root vegetables – the beetroot.
A simple roast beetroot salad is one of life’s pleasures and certainly finds it’s way onto my table in numerous guises. Tonight I’m roasting it in fresh pesto, and adding it to a salad of rocket, avocado, gooey thick Italian balsamic (courtesy of Kate & Adam), roasted feta and roasted pecans. Served alongside some grilled ciabatta drizzled with olive oil and rubbed with fresh garlic, it will be sure to make me feel like spring has sprung, while not letting me get too carried away into the arms of summer.
