One of my favourite pieces of cooking equipment is my Le Creuset tagine, which was a gift a couple of Christmases ago as a replacement for an earlier tagine which ended up with the lid stuck to the base following an attempt to cook rather more lamb tagine with apricots and honey than it would really hold. I don't use it nearly often enough, but I remembered it this morning when we were thinking about what to have for dinner, and reached for my copy of Claudia Roden's Tamarind and Saffron to look for inspiration.
We decided that the recipe for chicken with pasta looked interesting, and as the deli in the Covered Market yielded the requisite small rice-shaped pasta that was what we had. The chicken is simmered slowly in water with garlic, cardamon, cinnamon and ginger, and then the pasta is cooked in the resulting broth with the cooked chicken added and warmed through just before serving. As I was only cooking for two of us I used chicken supremes instead of the whole chicken suggested in the recipe, but still simmered them for an hour. We were both impressed by the result (despite the cognitive dissonance of eating something that looked like rice but tasted like pasta!); it was a nice soothing meal for the end of a long week, delicately flavoured rather than being overwhelmingly spicy.
As a side dish we had spicy carrot puree, also from the Claudia Roden book; mashed carrots with olive oil, vinegar, harissa and cumin.
Saturday 28 March 2009
Wednesday 25 March 2009
Cabbage Soup Diet: Thai cabbage and onion soup with coconut, lime and coriander
No new recipes for the last couple of weeks, because we've been away, and now we're back inspiration is still in short supply. This evening I was stumped by the assortment of green leafy things in the vegbox (two Savoy cabbages, and spring greens) until I remembered Denis Cotter's Paradiso Seasons. This is easily my favourite vegetarian cookbook; it may well be my favourite cookbook overall. It's certainly the best one to go to when trying to think of interesting and different things to cook from the vegbox; the recipes are grouped by season and main ingredient, and give seasonal Irish ingredients an interesting twist - lots of Eastern and Middle Eastern influence.
Today I spotted a recipe for Thai cabbage and onion soup which seemed like the ideal way to use one of the Savoy cabbages. Like most of the recipes in the book, it was fairly straightforward to cook, and the result was extremely good - simultaneously soothing and reviving. I threw in some rice noodles to bulk it out a bit, and if I was making it again I might add a splash of fish sauce to add some depth to the stock, but generally a very nice dinner, and a pleasant change from the tried-and-tested recipes we've been having recently.
Today I spotted a recipe for Thai cabbage and onion soup which seemed like the ideal way to use one of the Savoy cabbages. Like most of the recipes in the book, it was fairly straightforward to cook, and the result was extremely good - simultaneously soothing and reviving. I threw in some rice noodles to bulk it out a bit, and if I was making it again I might add a splash of fish sauce to add some depth to the stock, but generally a very nice dinner, and a pleasant change from the tried-and-tested recipes we've been having recently.
Monday 9 March 2009
Marinaded tuna and pot-roast pork
I ended up making new things on Saturday and Sunday this week. Saturday's dinner was tuna steaks; we fancied something with an Oriental feel to it, and rather than going for the usual teriyaki tuna I followed a suggestion from my friend A and marinaded the steaks in lime juice, fish sauce, garlic and ginger. Grilled and served with sesame noodles and stir-fried broccoli with oyster sauce, it was lovely. Definitely one we'll have again.
We'd got a piece of pork shoulder to have yesterday, and plans to slow-cook it. After some googling I settled on this recipe from the Waitrose website. We didn't have any rosemary or sage, but the pork went into the oven with garlic, thyme, lemon zest and water at five o'clock and stayed there until about half-past nine (an hour longer than the recipe suggested, because there was a late decision to have braised cabbage and I left the pork in until the cabbage was more or less ready.
Possibly as a result of the additional cooking time, the pork was practically falling apart by the time it came out of the oven and didn't look as though it would stand up to being browned while the cooking liquid reduced; instead I simply boiled down the cooking liquid a little at a time, with a splash of red wine added fairly early on. That seemed to work fine, and it made a very nice dinner with the braised cabbage and some mash.
We'd got a piece of pork shoulder to have yesterday, and plans to slow-cook it. After some googling I settled on this recipe from the Waitrose website. We didn't have any rosemary or sage, but the pork went into the oven with garlic, thyme, lemon zest and water at five o'clock and stayed there until about half-past nine (an hour longer than the recipe suggested, because there was a late decision to have braised cabbage and I left the pork in until the cabbage was more or less ready.
Possibly as a result of the additional cooking time, the pork was practically falling apart by the time it came out of the oven and didn't look as though it would stand up to being browned while the cooking liquid reduced; instead I simply boiled down the cooking liquid a little at a time, with a splash of red wine added fairly early on. That seemed to work fine, and it made a very nice dinner with the braised cabbage and some mash.
Wednesday 25 February 2009
Shepherd's Pie with Cheese-Crusted Leeks
A small twist on an old favourite, this, courtesy of Delia and her reassuringly non-bonkers How to Cook, Book Two. In our house, Tuesday's dinner is often linked to Sunday's dinner: there are only two of us, but a roasting joint worth the name will feed at least four. This in turn means there is often left-over lamb or beef, and variations on bolognese, a day or two later.
The difference in this variation comes with the topping: I read the recipe carefully to make sure I definitely didn't need to pre-cook the leeks (you don't) which I was worried might thus end up being slightly crunchier than intended. In fact they cook perfectly, effectively steaming in the moisture of the pie, I imagine, while the cheese browns on top. That was very neat, a portion of veg without the need for any extra pans, and - obviously - extra cheese, which is never something I'd reject out of hand.
I can see this being a handy dish to alternate with the River Cottage suggestion which I normally base my shepherd's pie on, depending on the presence of leeks in the rack.
The difference in this variation comes with the topping: I read the recipe carefully to make sure I definitely didn't need to pre-cook the leeks (you don't) which I was worried might thus end up being slightly crunchier than intended. In fact they cook perfectly, effectively steaming in the moisture of the pie, I imagine, while the cheese browns on top. That was very neat, a portion of veg without the need for any extra pans, and - obviously - extra cheese, which is never something I'd reject out of hand.
I can see this being a handy dish to alternate with the River Cottage suggestion which I normally base my shepherd's pie on, depending on the presence of leeks in the rack.
Wednesday 18 February 2009
Mmmm, pork chop...
I went to the butcher's at lunchtime to buy meat to have for dinner tonight with some of the rather large assortment of root vegetables that turned up in this week's vegbox (an occupational hazard of vegboxes; I don't think I'd want to be vegetarian and rely on one at this time of year, because while I never met a root vegetable I didn't like there is a limited number of main-dish uses). Normally when I do this we end up with lamb chops, or maybe sausages, but today I decided I fancied a change and bought pork chops instead.
We used to eat pork chops a lot, generally either braised with apples and cider or in a Fifties-America mushroom sauce made with Campbells' condensed mushroom soup, but somehow we got out of the habit. Possibly because it seemed to be difficult to get pork chops any more; I can remember looking in supermarkets and only finding pork steaks, which aren't the same thing at all and were no good at all when we had a dog who thought pork chop bones were the best thing ever; possibly also because we found sources of really good local lamb and started eating lamb chops a lot more instead. At any rate, it's been a long time since we last had pork chops; long enough that neither of us could remember exactly how we'd used to cook them.
We did remember having them with mushrooms, though, and that seemed like a good idea for tonight as the vegbox had also brought quite a lot of mushrooms. Googling produced Delia's recipe for pork chops baked with mushrooms and creme fraiche, which sounded like just the ticket.
Our fresh mushrooms were ordinary chestnut mushrooms, rather than wild mushrooms, but we had dried porcini and all the other ingredients. It's a nice straightforward recipe, perfect for a weekday evening when I'd been late at work and really wasn't feeling up to complicated cooking. I wasn't quite sure about the instruction to dollop the creme fraiche on top of the chops and mushrooms before baking; if I was doing it again I think I'd mix it in with the mushrooms to make more of a sauce, but we both enjoyed the end result anyway. We had it with mashed potato, swede and carrot (roughly the same amount of each); definitely a good winter dinner.
We used to eat pork chops a lot, generally either braised with apples and cider or in a Fifties-America mushroom sauce made with Campbells' condensed mushroom soup, but somehow we got out of the habit. Possibly because it seemed to be difficult to get pork chops any more; I can remember looking in supermarkets and only finding pork steaks, which aren't the same thing at all and were no good at all when we had a dog who thought pork chop bones were the best thing ever; possibly also because we found sources of really good local lamb and started eating lamb chops a lot more instead. At any rate, it's been a long time since we last had pork chops; long enough that neither of us could remember exactly how we'd used to cook them.
We did remember having them with mushrooms, though, and that seemed like a good idea for tonight as the vegbox had also brought quite a lot of mushrooms. Googling produced Delia's recipe for pork chops baked with mushrooms and creme fraiche, which sounded like just the ticket.
Our fresh mushrooms were ordinary chestnut mushrooms, rather than wild mushrooms, but we had dried porcini and all the other ingredients. It's a nice straightforward recipe, perfect for a weekday evening when I'd been late at work and really wasn't feeling up to complicated cooking. I wasn't quite sure about the instruction to dollop the creme fraiche on top of the chops and mushrooms before baking; if I was doing it again I think I'd mix it in with the mushrooms to make more of a sauce, but we both enjoyed the end result anyway. We had it with mashed potato, swede and carrot (roughly the same amount of each); definitely a good winter dinner.
Saturday 14 February 2009
A new method for biryani
Last night I'd bought lamb for a curry with the intention of looking through recipe books and deciding exactly what kind of a curry it should be when I got home. I hadn't been anticipating not getting home until eight o'clock, though; by that point I was tired and didn't feel up to complicated cooking, so decided that I'd go for simplicity and make a lamb biryani.
I make biryanis quite a lot, either vegetable or chicken, generally following the recipe for vegetable biryani in Vicky Bhogal's Cooking Like Mummyji where the vegetables (and meat, if I'm making a chicken biryani) are cooked with spices, tomatoes and yoghurt and then layered with almost-cooked rice and baked briefly. I wasn't sure about using this method for the lamb, though, as it was obviously going to need a lot more cooking than chicken would; in the end I opted for a recipe from a very old Indian Cooking book of the kind that you used to find in supermarkets back before the Net Book Agreement disappeared and supermarkets started selling the same books as everywhere else. I'm not quite sure where it came from; certainly, neither of us bought it or remembers owning it individually, so we think it must either have been left by a previous tenant somewhere or belonged to a former housemate.
This recipe used a different technique; I fried an onion until golden brown, added ginger, garlic and whole spices (cinnamon, bay, cardamom, cloves) and then stirred in the lamb, some vegetables (peas and carrots), ground spices and yoghurt, topped it with partly-cooked rice and baked it for an hour.
It turned out very well; at least as nice as the biryani we usually have, if not better. The recipe wasn't brilliant (it showed its age in such things as calling for either ginger paste or ground ginger, and garlic paste or powder, because not so long ago fresh ginger and garlic weren't things people necessarily had in their houses, and using chilli powder where I think a fresh chilli might have worked better), but I'd definitely use the technique again.
I make biryanis quite a lot, either vegetable or chicken, generally following the recipe for vegetable biryani in Vicky Bhogal's Cooking Like Mummyji where the vegetables (and meat, if I'm making a chicken biryani) are cooked with spices, tomatoes and yoghurt and then layered with almost-cooked rice and baked briefly. I wasn't sure about using this method for the lamb, though, as it was obviously going to need a lot more cooking than chicken would; in the end I opted for a recipe from a very old Indian Cooking book of the kind that you used to find in supermarkets back before the Net Book Agreement disappeared and supermarkets started selling the same books as everywhere else. I'm not quite sure where it came from; certainly, neither of us bought it or remembers owning it individually, so we think it must either have been left by a previous tenant somewhere or belonged to a former housemate.
This recipe used a different technique; I fried an onion until golden brown, added ginger, garlic and whole spices (cinnamon, bay, cardamom, cloves) and then stirred in the lamb, some vegetables (peas and carrots), ground spices and yoghurt, topped it with partly-cooked rice and baked it for an hour.
It turned out very well; at least as nice as the biryani we usually have, if not better. The recipe wasn't brilliant (it showed its age in such things as calling for either ginger paste or ground ginger, and garlic paste or powder, because not so long ago fresh ginger and garlic weren't things people necessarily had in their houses, and using chilli powder where I think a fresh chilli might have worked better), but I'd definitely use the technique again.
Wednesday 11 February 2009
Oranges and Lemons...Citrus-Braised Lamb Shanks
After a couple of things which were neither one thing nor the other, I thought I was due a success a) by the law of averages and b) by starting with more promising ingredients. Approaching the weekend without having already picked a new recipe, I once more chose to get something from the butcher's first and decide what to do with it later. This time, however, the intrinsic dullness of chicken breasts was fresh in my mind, so I suggested lamb shanks: a cut I have never gone wrong with, mainly because as long as you allow a good three hours cooking time, going wrong with lamb shanks is practically impossible.
This usual, and foolproof, method involves browning the meat, then adding it to a liquid which can consist of one or more of lamb stock, red wine, beer or water, along with other ingredients including, but not limited to, onion, carrot, any root vegetables which are handy, thyme or other suitable herb, and barley. Put that in a low oven for three hours and you generally end up with superbly tender meat and a rich gravy which is very much part of the dish (this is definitely a meal best served in deep bowls).
As a change, then, I picked out a suggestion from the River Cottage Meat book, for Citrus-Braised Lamb Shanks. The cooking method is the same - brown the meat, semi-immerse in cooking liquid, place in low oven for two or three hours, perfect for a weekend evening - but the difference is in the flavouring. I started by dicing onion, carrot and celery, which I softened gently in some olive oil; so far, so traditional. Then, however, I added the zest and juice of an orange and a lemon, followed by white wine and lamb stock.
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall obviously has a cooker calibrated rather higher than ours, as his suggestion of Gas Mark 1/2 for two and a half hours struck me as being a bit on the ineffectual side. I turned the heat up (admittedly only to Gas Mark 2) which is what I'd normally do, and it was fine; at lower heat I'm sure it would have cooked to even greater tenderness, but we'd have been eating it for breakfast.
The end result was interesting; as I suggested, in our household lamb shanks have always been something unpretentious, slow-cooked and substantial, served in a big bowl of gravy, very much the sort of dish that seems just right for a Sunday night when there's snow on the ground. This was far more like a restuarant or dinner party dish - I served it on large plates, with lots of buttered mashed potato, and a large puddle of the cooking sauce, which was as promised, zesty and zingy, and possibly other things beginning with z, if perhaps not quite the sort of thing you'd want to eat by the spoonful or mop up with bread. However, it was also the sort of slow cooking that might seem even better if done for dinner at the end of a long summer day. I guess I'll have to wait and see if we have such a thing this year...
This usual, and foolproof, method involves browning the meat, then adding it to a liquid which can consist of one or more of lamb stock, red wine, beer or water, along with other ingredients including, but not limited to, onion, carrot, any root vegetables which are handy, thyme or other suitable herb, and barley. Put that in a low oven for three hours and you generally end up with superbly tender meat and a rich gravy which is very much part of the dish (this is definitely a meal best served in deep bowls).
As a change, then, I picked out a suggestion from the River Cottage Meat book, for Citrus-Braised Lamb Shanks. The cooking method is the same - brown the meat, semi-immerse in cooking liquid, place in low oven for two or three hours, perfect for a weekend evening - but the difference is in the flavouring. I started by dicing onion, carrot and celery, which I softened gently in some olive oil; so far, so traditional. Then, however, I added the zest and juice of an orange and a lemon, followed by white wine and lamb stock.
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall obviously has a cooker calibrated rather higher than ours, as his suggestion of Gas Mark 1/2 for two and a half hours struck me as being a bit on the ineffectual side. I turned the heat up (admittedly only to Gas Mark 2) which is what I'd normally do, and it was fine; at lower heat I'm sure it would have cooked to even greater tenderness, but we'd have been eating it for breakfast.
The end result was interesting; as I suggested, in our household lamb shanks have always been something unpretentious, slow-cooked and substantial, served in a big bowl of gravy, very much the sort of dish that seems just right for a Sunday night when there's snow on the ground. This was far more like a restuarant or dinner party dish - I served it on large plates, with lots of buttered mashed potato, and a large puddle of the cooking sauce, which was as promised, zesty and zingy, and possibly other things beginning with z, if perhaps not quite the sort of thing you'd want to eat by the spoonful or mop up with bread. However, it was also the sort of slow cooking that might seem even better if done for dinner at the end of a long summer day. I guess I'll have to wait and see if we have such a thing this year...
Friday 6 February 2009
Dal with Chicken
Friday night is curry night in our house (unless we're out, in which case Saturday night is curry night instead). I'd bought chicken breasts at lunchtime, on the grounds that we're having lamb shanks on Sunday so it would be better not to have lamb tonight as well; originally I'd been intending to make chicken dopyaza, but then I thought that perhaps this would be a good opportunity to try something new.
I eventually settled on the mung dal with chicken in the Ultimate Curry Bible, although as we only had whole mung beans and the recipe called for split I substituted channa dal.
The cooking technique was slightly different to those I'd come across before; instead of frying the spices and tomatoes together, a few ingredients are added at a time; first ginger and garlic, then turmeric, cayenne and salt, then tomatoes, and finally cumin seed, garam masala and green chilli. Each addition is fried briefly, then you add a little hot water and cook until reduced before adding the next set of ingredients. Then you brown the chicken in the spicy paste before adding the pre-cooked dal and water and simmering slowly (the recipe said 25 minutes, but it probably ended up being more like an hour, which is never a bad thing with curries).
When I tasted the sauce just after setting it to simmer I thought this was going to be a disaster; it contained half a teaspoon of cayenne and a couple of slivers of a green chill. The current batch of chillies seems to be particularly potent and at that point the sauce was so hot as to be practically inedible to our palates. Fortunately, the long slow cooking allowed the flavours to blend and soften, and it was actually very nice, richly and complexly flavoured. We both thought it was definitely one to make again.
I eventually settled on the mung dal with chicken in the Ultimate Curry Bible, although as we only had whole mung beans and the recipe called for split I substituted channa dal.
The cooking technique was slightly different to those I'd come across before; instead of frying the spices and tomatoes together, a few ingredients are added at a time; first ginger and garlic, then turmeric, cayenne and salt, then tomatoes, and finally cumin seed, garam masala and green chilli. Each addition is fried briefly, then you add a little hot water and cook until reduced before adding the next set of ingredients. Then you brown the chicken in the spicy paste before adding the pre-cooked dal and water and simmering slowly (the recipe said 25 minutes, but it probably ended up being more like an hour, which is never a bad thing with curries).
When I tasted the sauce just after setting it to simmer I thought this was going to be a disaster; it contained half a teaspoon of cayenne and a couple of slivers of a green chill. The current batch of chillies seems to be particularly potent and at that point the sauce was so hot as to be practically inedible to our palates. Fortunately, the long slow cooking allowed the flavours to blend and soften, and it was actually very nice, richly and complexly flavoured. We both thought it was definitely one to make again.
Monday 26 January 2009
Let them eat cake: Parsnip, Leek and Apple Cakes
One of the side-effects of getting a weekly vegbox is having to find different ways of using the vegetables that are in season if we don't want to eat the same things week after week. At the moment it's root vegetables and cabbages; this morning the vegetable rack contained a swede, five parsnips, four carrots, a red cabbage, half a white cabbage, four leeks and rather a lot of red onions, which didn't immediately strike me as a particularly inspiring prospect. My first thought was leek risotto, which is very nice but something we eat rather a lot. Or root vegetable and chorizo stew, ditto. Or leeks in cheese sauce, ditto ditto.
And then something made me have a look at the recipes on the Riverford website; I always think they sound nice but all too often we don't have the right combination of ingredients. This time, though, I realised that we did have everything we needed to make parsnip, leek and apple cakes (well, almost everything; I did have to substitute Cheddar for Parmesan) and decided to give that a try.
They turned out very well, I thought. The apple added enough moisture that the cakes didn't fall apart in the frying pan, as happens so often with recipes of this kind, and they tasted very nice. The egging and breadcrumbing was a bit fiddly and used all the bowls (admittedly we don't have a full set of bowls and one of the ones we do have was in the dishwasher), but not too fiddly for a weeknight dinner really, especially as the rest of it was a doddle. We had them with a kind of winter coleslaw: lightly cooked red cabbage mixed with grated carrot and dressed with lemon juice and walnut oil. And now the vegetable rack is a lot emptier and we're happily full of dinner. Definitely one I'd make again.
And then something made me have a look at the recipes on the Riverford website; I always think they sound nice but all too often we don't have the right combination of ingredients. This time, though, I realised that we did have everything we needed to make parsnip, leek and apple cakes (well, almost everything; I did have to substitute Cheddar for Parmesan) and decided to give that a try.
They turned out very well, I thought. The apple added enough moisture that the cakes didn't fall apart in the frying pan, as happens so often with recipes of this kind, and they tasted very nice. The egging and breadcrumbing was a bit fiddly and used all the bowls (admittedly we don't have a full set of bowls and one of the ones we do have was in the dishwasher), but not too fiddly for a weeknight dinner really, especially as the rest of it was a doddle. We had them with a kind of winter coleslaw: lightly cooked red cabbage mixed with grated carrot and dressed with lemon juice and walnut oil. And now the vegetable rack is a lot emptier and we're happily full of dinner. Definitely one I'd make again.
Sunday 25 January 2009
Breast Isn't Best: Chicken with Coriander & Saffron Sauce
With the weekend approaching, I had no idea what I felt like eating or cooking, and thus no useful suggestion as to what Sadie should buy when she was at the market on Friday. Ordinarily this would mean falling back on something tried and tested, but the whole purpose of this exercise is to stop us doing just that; so in the absence of any firm idea, I proposed that she get some chicken breasts and I'd decide how to cook them nearer the time.
On reflection, chicken breasts were, of course, not the best choice. My plan was to get something which would give me plenty of flexibility, and chicken breast, being a somewhat bland base for a dish, even when the chicken comes from a proper butcher, seemed as if it would allow for lots of possibilities. The trouble is, it doesn't, really. Flicking through the books for a new recipe, I quickly realised that easily the most attractive prospects involved stuffing the breasts with something much more interesting (and for a number of reasons I wasn't going to suggest that one of us should head back into town to find a lobster), or making curry.
However, Friday evening's dinner was tandoori lamb chops, and while I'm not suggesting it's in some way wrong to have curry two nights in a row (after all, millions of people, mostly Asian, but also including me as a student, eat it every night of the week), I thought I should make an effort to step out of this comfort zone.
The alternative seemed to be to make an interesting sauce in which to braise the chicken, so I opted for Chicken with Coriander & Saffron Sauce, from Leith's Cookery Bible. It's a yogurt-based sauce with tomatoes (and, obviously, coriander and saffron) which came out very nicely, without being something that cried out to be remembered for a special occasion in the future. Still, worth trying because a) it tasted good, though it would be exaggerating to say it was a party in my mouth, b) it's something that uses ingredients we usually have at all times, so would be easily knocked up at short notice, and c) it acts as a reminder for next time that chicken breasts are rarely the best starting point for something new and interesting.
On reflection, chicken breasts were, of course, not the best choice. My plan was to get something which would give me plenty of flexibility, and chicken breast, being a somewhat bland base for a dish, even when the chicken comes from a proper butcher, seemed as if it would allow for lots of possibilities. The trouble is, it doesn't, really. Flicking through the books for a new recipe, I quickly realised that easily the most attractive prospects involved stuffing the breasts with something much more interesting (and for a number of reasons I wasn't going to suggest that one of us should head back into town to find a lobster), or making curry.
However, Friday evening's dinner was tandoori lamb chops, and while I'm not suggesting it's in some way wrong to have curry two nights in a row (after all, millions of people, mostly Asian, but also including me as a student, eat it every night of the week), I thought I should make an effort to step out of this comfort zone.
The alternative seemed to be to make an interesting sauce in which to braise the chicken, so I opted for Chicken with Coriander & Saffron Sauce, from Leith's Cookery Bible. It's a yogurt-based sauce with tomatoes (and, obviously, coriander and saffron) which came out very nicely, without being something that cried out to be remembered for a special occasion in the future. Still, worth trying because a) it tasted good, though it would be exaggerating to say it was a party in my mouth, b) it's something that uses ingredients we usually have at all times, so would be easily knocked up at short notice, and c) it acts as a reminder for next time that chicken breasts are rarely the best starting point for something new and interesting.
Thursday 22 January 2009
What counts as "cheating"?
Tim cooked a lovely stir-fry tonight (not from a recipe book, so not blogged), and noticed while assembling the ingredients that the bottle of soy sauce in our cupboard proudly proclaims itself to be "A Delia Cheat Ingredient!".
We were both a little puzzled by this, as we couldn't really think what soy sauce could be a cheat for. Are non-cheating cooks expected to ferment their own soya beans? (We did concede that she might use it in a "cheating" way in a recipe, although we couldn't think what that might be - perhaps someone with the book can enlighten us? It doesn't appear to be googlable. All we could think of was things like enhancing the flavour of sauces, which didn't seem particularly like "cheating".)
Although googling didn't produce an answer to the soy sauce question, it did turn up the full list of "cheat ingredients" on Delia's website, which strikes me as rather bizarre. Some of the items on the list are real "cheats"; frozen pastry, ready-cooked lentils, even the infamous frozen mashed potato that caused the press to suggest that Delia had lost it when How to Cheat at Cooking was released. None of these things are terribly difficult to make from scratch, but they do require greater or lesser amounts of time and skill, and I've resorted to plenty of them in my time and I'm sure I will again. But a lot of the others are like the soy sauce; balsamic vinegar, for instance. Green & Black's 85% cocoa solids chocolate. Vanilla extract. Maldon sea salt. These aren't "cheats", they're ingredients. I'm not quite sure what the point of this is. Is she just trying to persuade a reluctant nation to start cooking their own meals rather than buying takeaways by convincing them that they aren't really cooking? Does she think that proper cooks process their own cocoa beans and extract salt from the North Sea while on family beach holidays in Cromer? Has she just gone a bit mad?
We were both a little puzzled by this, as we couldn't really think what soy sauce could be a cheat for. Are non-cheating cooks expected to ferment their own soya beans? (We did concede that she might use it in a "cheating" way in a recipe, although we couldn't think what that might be - perhaps someone with the book can enlighten us? It doesn't appear to be googlable. All we could think of was things like enhancing the flavour of sauces, which didn't seem particularly like "cheating".)
Although googling didn't produce an answer to the soy sauce question, it did turn up the full list of "cheat ingredients" on Delia's website, which strikes me as rather bizarre. Some of the items on the list are real "cheats"; frozen pastry, ready-cooked lentils, even the infamous frozen mashed potato that caused the press to suggest that Delia had lost it when How to Cheat at Cooking was released. None of these things are terribly difficult to make from scratch, but they do require greater or lesser amounts of time and skill, and I've resorted to plenty of them in my time and I'm sure I will again. But a lot of the others are like the soy sauce; balsamic vinegar, for instance. Green & Black's 85% cocoa solids chocolate. Vanilla extract. Maldon sea salt. These aren't "cheats", they're ingredients. I'm not quite sure what the point of this is. Is she just trying to persuade a reluctant nation to start cooking their own meals rather than buying takeaways by convincing them that they aren't really cooking? Does she think that proper cooks process their own cocoa beans and extract salt from the North Sea while on family beach holidays in Cromer? Has she just gone a bit mad?
Saturday 17 January 2009
Hyderabadi Fish with a Sesame Sauce
We wanted a fish curry tonight, so I decided to try this recipe from Madhur Jaffrey's Ultimate Curry Bible. We've had a lot of success with recipes from this book in the past; the lamb with potatoes (made with pumpkin instead of potatoes) is a great favourite, and I made the lamb bhuna a few weeks ago to great acclaim from Tim and our guest.
This recipe was less of a success, though. It's extremely labour-intensive; I halved the quantities, which meant we only had to grind 2oz of sesame seeds, and that took us three-quarters of an hour of passing the grinder between us. If I had been making the full recipe I think I might have given up in disgust and decided to make something else. And neither of us felt that the finished project justified the effort. Tim has less of a tolerance for spicy foods than I do and definitely thought it was too hot. I thought it was OK but the flavours lacked depth and subtlety, probably unsurprisingly given that the sauce was cooked very quickly and then the fish was only simmered in it for about quarter of an hour.
Not one I'll be making again, I think.
This recipe was less of a success, though. It's extremely labour-intensive; I halved the quantities, which meant we only had to grind 2oz of sesame seeds, and that took us three-quarters of an hour of passing the grinder between us. If I had been making the full recipe I think I might have given up in disgust and decided to make something else. And neither of us felt that the finished project justified the effort. Tim has less of a tolerance for spicy foods than I do and definitely thought it was too hot. I thought it was OK but the flavours lacked depth and subtlety, probably unsurprisingly given that the sauce was cooked very quickly and then the fish was only simmered in it for about quarter of an hour.
Not one I'll be making again, I think.
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