We waited weeks for the truly good growing conditions to arrive. A late frost gave us cause for concern and we thought for a few days that we’d lost the entire crop of potatoes – not to mention numerous salads.
Thankfully the sad looking leaves survived and thrived into lush green offerings. The rows of potatoes now stand tall and proud, a thick carpet of the distinctive green leaves cover half the garden like a layer of cloud. Read More…
There is something slightly decadent about a pie that belies their inherent simplicity.
Well, most pies.
I’ve had many a miserable midweek football match warmed by a steaming meat and potato number at halftime and to call these a luxury would be akin to describing X Factor as a singing competition.
But pastry can work wonders. It can turn a stew from sustenance into a centrepiece or even make the most cackhanded of bakers look like a master practitioner: Crème patissiere plus puff pastry equals ‘millefeuille’ – a dessert so impressive that it is near impossible to pronounce, let alone eat.
As a result I’ve taken to keeping a slab of ready made pastry in the freezer for those occasions when potatoes, rice or pasta just won’t cut it and my Northern roots are whispering that sweetest of words down my lughole: pie. Pie. Pie.
This little creation is light enough not to raise the blood pressure but also satisfying, cheap and downright delicious.
Cheese, onion and ham pie
Serves four, or two with enough left over for an enviable lunch the following day.
Half a slab of ready-made puff pastry (save the other half for Eccles cakes – coming soon)
6-8 white onions, depending on their size
3-4 slices cured ham (prosciutto, Serrano – anything of that ilk)
two or three handfuls of young leaf spinach
Pesto
Any cheese that melts and as much of it as you like
An egg, beaten
Chop/slice/dice the onions any which way you wish but be sure to leave them in fairly big pieces. Cook them slowly in olive oil until they begin to brown. This should take 20-30 minutes, don’t rush it or they will go from crunchy to burnt in a matter of minutes without passing through that delicious sweet stage. Stir them occasionally.
Whilst the onions are cooking, cut the pastry into two squares (so two quarters of the original block) and roll them out to two equal sized rectangles – about 8 x 12 inches. Put one on a suitably sized baking sheet and layer on the ham, making sure to leave a border of about a finger’s width round the outside. Top with a few dollops of pesto.
Once the onions are cooked, stir in the spinach to wilt it down and spoon the whole lot over the ham. Grate or slice the cheese and sprinkle over the onions. Brush the border with beaten egg, lay the second pastry sheet over the top and press it into place round the edges. Brush the top with more egg and cook for 25-30 minutes. Eat as soon as it comes out of the oven. Mouth burns are inevitable.
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Everyone loves leftovers.
From a rare beef sandwich that brings memories of yesterday’s roast flooding back to a slice of cold pizza, picked out of the box amidst the empty beer cans and overflowing ashtrays, leftovers can be a culinary experience worth savouring. Not to mention a winning hangover cure.
As a result, most nights I try and cook a little too much for dinner. Lunch often consists of a bowl of reheated pasta, liberally dosed with ketchup and extra cheese or a steaming plate of freshly microwaved noodles.
But, for me, it is potatoes that top the leftover tree. That hit of carbohydrate is just what I need as a late, second, breakfast or early lunch. Boil, roast or mash a few extra and your midday meal the following day is sorted: sautéed with a fried egg, dipped into pungent aioli or even squashed into cakes and fried, they are darn near perfect.
The absolute best way to use up leftover spuds, however, is to make a speedy tartiflette. Potatoes, bacon and cheese? That’s three boxes ticked and a guarantor of a very happy lunchtime indeed.
Dice a few rashers of bacon and fry in a little oil. Meanwhile, finely chop a couple of shallots or a small onion. Once the bacon has started to crisp up, turn down the heat and add the onion. Fry a few more minutes until it’s softened.
Add a handful of cooked potatoes to the pan and allow to heat through. If you get a few crisp edges then all the better. Top with a generous amount of soft cheese – camembert, brie, reblochon – and grill until the top of the cheese starts to bubble and the underneath has melted into a gooey sauce, slathering the bacon and potatoes in its cheesy goodness.
Eat immediately. And feel no shame if you squirt some ketchup on the side, it’s not like anyone’s looking.
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You want to do what to my sphere? Inverse it? Well, that’s quite enough of that, thank you very much.
Despite sounding like the name of a prog rock group from the mid 70s or the title of an obscure drum and bass album, inverse spherification is a rather nifty culinary technique.
It may sound scientific (partly because it is) but fear not. There is as much chance of me boggling you with science as there is of George Bush being named Iraq’s Man of the Century.
Spherification is a principle whereby a flavoured liquid is encased in a flavourless skin. Imagine ravioli with invisible pasta and you’re somewhere close. It is a technique perfected by Ferran Adria and one he uses to great effect with his ‘olives’.
Here fresh olives are juiced then strained before being mixed with calcic gluconolactato. The mixture is then spooned into an algin bath where the two chemicals react together, instantly forming a translucent skin which holds in the liquid.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKWgmx0kc1A]
Phew. Still with me? Good.
The effect can be repeated with almost any liquid thus creating a tasty burst of flavour with near infinite possibilities. Imagine dishes that ‘self-sauce’ at exactly the right moment or cocktails that mix in the mouth rather than the shaker. Oh what fun to be had.
For the cauliflower cheese dish, the inspiration came in the form of incredible buffalo mozzarella from Laverstoke Park Farm (A British made mozzarella? Believe it).
Whilst it tastes superb unadorned, oozing freshness from within the delicious pale orb, I was desperate to try Adria’s method for making mozzarella spheres.
Previous attempts at spherification had yielded mixed results varying from partial failure to complete and utter failure. Only when I found a thread on eGullet about the effect of hardwater on algin baths did I realise what was going wrong. The natural lime present in the water was setting the algae extract and creating a jelly.
Enter bottled water and, huzzah! Success. No more jellies.
The cheese (125g) was blended with a little cream then passed through a sieve before being mixed with about 2g calcic gluconolactato. Spoonfuls were then dropped into the waiting algin bath and fingers were crossed.
The excitement of seeing the spheres set for the first time was truly palpable. I couldn’t hide the smile from my face, neither did I want to. Half expecting the white liquid to ooze out, it was fantastic to see it set instantly into a neat little orb that looked exactly like a mini mozzarella cheese.
The surprise comes when you bite into it – instead of the slight resistance of a semi-solid cheese you get a burst of mozzarella flavour in liquid form. A real revelation and certainly one to try again.
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For UK supplies of the necessary bits and bobs to re-create some Adria inspired dishes try Cream Supplies who have a incredible range.
One of the challenges facing molecular gastronomy is knowing where to draw the line between innovation and tradition.
Some dishes have become classic for good reason – they taste really good just the way they are. As such, alterations can be seen as pointless frippery. Experimentation for the sake of change.
Why ‘deconstruct’ a guacamole when regular guacamole is pretty close to perfection?
For culinary innovation to be successful, the resultant dish must maintain the integrity of the inspiration, or else the point has been missed and all that remains on the plate, and on the palate, is the bitter taste of disappointment and a hunger for the original.
Even Ferran Adria et al accept that not all dishes are a success. Granted, he scores more hits than misses but I’m sure his team have an awful lot of fun along the way.
And much of what this is about is having fun.
Eating (and cooking) is one of only two pan-sensory activities in which we, as humans, engage. Why shouldn’t it delight, amuse, surprise, tease or even arouse rather than just fuel?
Balancing these twin objectives – integrity and amusement against innovation and satisfaction – is a real challenge. But one that is enormously satisfying when it works. This was my first effort
Cauliflower Cheese
Cauliflower cheese is one of those big classics. Done right it is like being wrapped in a warm duvet and watching a Frank Capra film. Bite-sized florets of cauliflower, still carrying some bite, covered in a cheesey white sauce and topped with even more melty cheese, just turning that slightly crispy/chewy shade of brown. Give me the dish and a fork. No plates or napkins necessary.
Stripped down it has three main elements – the sauce, the cheese and the cauliflower. It also has three textures – soft, chewy and slightly crunchy. Finally, there are three flavours – saltiness from the cheese, caulifloweryness from the cauliflower and a slight bitterness from the topping.
The challenge was to keep all these fundamentals in place without compromising the flavour or satisfying nature of the inspiration.
After much head scratching, musing and mulling, this is what I came up with:
Mozzarella spheres with deep-fried cauliflower and bitter chocolate and a cauliflower and Parmesan puree with Parmesan crisps.
I think it ticks all the boxes. And you’re going to want the recipe aren’t you? I shall make it so…
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Things seem to have got a bit ‘bakery’ recently what with oatcakes, flatbreads and Italian style tray bread. You’ve not been complaining though, so I’ll take that as a good sign.
The situation will be rectified shortly and there is a belated Nose to Tail Tuesday on the way as well as some cheeky nibbles.
In the mean time here is the final (for now) piece on what to do with bubbling masses of sourdough that I’ve been nurturing as it gradually expands and develops its own unique characteristics
When people refer to pizza as fast food they are normally talking about the sort that comes in a cardboard box with a base as thick as a telephone directory and all sorts of toppings that would probably make even Tony Soprano weep.
But there is another way.
Along with the swamp of dough that sits in the fridge, I try to keep a batch of tomato sauce on hand either frozen or refrigerated (gently fry a couple of shallots or a small onion in a little olive oil, add some chopped garlic, a little balsamic vinegar and two tins of tomatoes. Let it simmer for an hour or so, add a little oregano and seasoning and you have a tomato sauce fit for a king and a multitude of uses).
If you have these two things available you are only ten minutes away from a fresh pizza, and that’s quicker than any Dominos delivery.
Crank your oven up to full (about 225-250 degrees C) and get a dry frying pan hot. Roll out a handful of dough until it is the size you want and about half a centimetre thick. Try not to get it too evenly rolled, you want some discrepancies – they add to the flavour and character of the finished pizza.
Cook one side of the dough in the hot pan until it starts to blister slightly. What you are doing here is replicating the scorching temperatures on the base of a genuine Italian pizza oven – it will give you sublime flavour and a wonderful crispness.
Place on a tray and cover with a little tomato sauce, whatever toppings you want (I usually keep it simple and go for mushrooms, maybe some red onion and a few roasted peppers – basically whatever you have left in the ‘fridge!).
Top with cheese and get it into the oven. It should take no more than seven or eight minutes until the edges start to crisp up, the cheese starts to bubble and the whole lot begins to look like deliciousness defined.
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Last Friday’s ‘Nibble’ contained a brief but apparently un-ignorable reference to cheese on toast.
As such, for the past 48 hours there has been a craving working away at my psyche and only this morning did I realise what it was.
Cheese on toast is another dish of implicit simplicity that manages to delight, satisfy and comfort in equal measure. The crunch of toasted white bread is the perfect foil to the soft, gooey warmth of melted cheddar cheese.
This is fast food as I see it – food that needs little thought or effort but can make you blissfully happy within a matter of minutes. It is the culinary equivalent of a big bear hug from a close friend.
(click photo to enjoy life size)
Do you really need a recipe for this? Surely not. Toast bread. Spread thinly with butter. Add an obscenely thick layer of cheddar cheese. Sprinkle with black pepper and a few dashes of Worcestershire Sauce. Grill until the cheese is bubbling and just starting to blister into delicious brown patches.
Eat. Smile. Repeat until full.
Goes very well with a mug of tea and many episodes of Family Guy.
Part two of the pork scratching recipe is due in the next couple of days, so stay tuned.
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I have a real ‘thing’ for delis; you know, a vaguely irrational adoration bordering on obsession. A deli is the absolute epitome of culinarianism. Of course, I have a deep set admiration for butchers, bakers (less so for candle stick makers), cheese mongers and the myriad of other ‘mongers’ you care to mention, but, for me, a delicatessen trumps them all.
In a deli you can be absolutely sure that each and every item in there is worthy of its place. You just know that there is not a single item on the shelves or in the fridge that is freeloading and hanging on to the coattails of its counterparts. Every slice of salami, every wedge of cheese, every loaf of bread deserves to be there and has been hand chosen after the owner has tasted, tested and compared hundreds of other contenders.
In a deli, quality is king. The delicatessen owner knows that his or her reputation hangs by the sheerest gossamer thread and as such they have to adopt a perfectionist’s attitude. To be fair, if they weren’t utterly passionate about charcuterie and cheese and sourdough bread, they probably wouldn’t have opened a deli in the first place and as such take extreme pleasure in stocking only the finest produce from the best suppliers.
As one who enjoys talking about food to any who care to reciprocate, I know that a suitable conversation can be virtually guaranteed in an independent deli. Within seconds of a smiled greeting, the conversation will almost invariably turn to seasonality or provenance or the benefits of raw milk cheeses over the pasteurised variety.
And they know so much. It’s all very well knowing the vague area from which a specific air dried ham originates but knowing the name of the farmer’s secret illicit lover? I’d fully expect them to be able to tell me the particular grass that a particular sheep has feasted on to make milk for a particular cheese but knowing the shepherd’s mother’s favourite wine? Wowee.
OK, OK, maybe I exaggerate slightly, but only slightly. Seriously, these are the places to go if you need any culinary advice at all. Not only will they be able to sell you the ideal cold cuts to serve as a light lunch in June but also the right pickles and wine to go with them. They’ll be able to put together a cheeseboard of such complexity and excellence that you’ll doubtless be rendered speechless by its sheer perfection. And you’ll be able to pick up some suitably artisan oatcakes to go with the cheese.
This isn’t about showing off, or one-upmanship. It’s about approaching food in the same manner as you would art or music or repairing a car. It’s great to fumble around by yourself for a while but sometimes it’s best to reign in the services of an expert, someone who does this for a living because it is what they love and is what they are fucking good at (please excuse the expletive but I really do feel very passionately about this).
There are a few notable delis that I try to frequent when time, location and budget allow. La Fromagerie in London I’ve written about before, ditto the Cheshire Smokehouse. The Cambridge Cheese Co. is now my closest and certainly the best that I know of for miles. Finally, there is Barbakan, just south of Manchester city centre which we paid a visit to a couple of days ago.
As well as some of their famous bread we picked up some Polish kabanos, a small packet of chorizos and a healthy chunk of Italian lardo, cured pig back fat from Tuscany.
Most exciting, though, was the presence of this season’s first Vacherin Mont D’Or, in its distinctive round, wooden box, a sure, and tasty, sign that we are truly into autumn. This seasonal cheese is produced on the Swiss-French border using only milk from Montbéliard and Simmentaler breeds who graze on the lush summer grass of Franche-Comté. It is a real treat and I try to buy at least two or three during the winter months for special occasions. Using the well-known adage ‘if it grows together, it goes together’ as a point of reference, you could do a lot worse than cracking open a bottle of soft Burgundy to go with it. Hardly the healthiest way to end a meal but certainly one that should bring warmth and smiles to any cold and miserable winter night.
I'm Alex Rushmer: writer, chef and Masterchef 2010 finalist. Welcome to my little corner of the Web. Why not get a cup of tea, snuggle down and make yourself at home?
