Saltimbocca and Housework

I cannot believe I'm about to type this next sentence. We are about to complete on the house. On Monday. On Monday at some point we will have keys in our hands to what could potentially be the house we live in for the rest of our lives. Or the next 5 years. This is of course of no interest to anyone else but us, but you must suffer along with if you want the recipe.

So I'm packing. And when I say "I", I actually do mean just me. MCD Sr says often and ineffectually "I must pack" and vanishes into the study on the top floor for an hour and a half ostensibly to do so, but upon inspection, I find 7 boxes. Seven. I've packed around 30 so far, which accounts for the rest of the house. His packing seems to cover folders. Mine covers... um... everything else: lounge, books, dining room sideboard, kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, clothes, toys, linen, weird shit you accumulate without meaning to, which then includes the sorting and throwing away of useless junk before you can pack.

I'm not about to go off on a rant about my husband again; too too dull for everyone but I would faintly like to raise the spectre of division of housework labour as it has been topic of the week for Woman's Hour on Radio 4. What do you all do? Are you fair about it? Have you fallen into ruts hoed so deep they're now trenches from which you can only come out fighting? I'm vaguely disquieted about it all, I have to admit. What are women SUPPOSED to do? What are men SUPPOSED to do? How do you divvy it up? Our situation is probably pretty common, but I've finally categorised it as Intellectual and Physical: He works (at the moment - see last post) full time Mon-Fri, but he also takes care of absolutely everything financial and intellectual. You name it, insurance, car stuff, dealings with rental properties, bills, licences. I am absolutely incapable of doing any of it. So I, working much less in an earning sense, but also a lot in a "taking care of MCD JR" way, take care of what has become the Physical: cleaning, cooking, washing up, mowing the lawn, gardening, really really minor DIY (I once fixed a loo seat and I can put up pictures without the spirit level he deems necessary), shopping, school stuff, birthdays and so on.

Where I'm wavering over "fairness" is the small stuff, the stuff that you shouldn't apparently sweat. Sometimes, when I'm washing up after having cooked MCD Jr's part of the dinner, bathed him, put him to bed, then come back down and done it all over again for us, I wonder if it's "fair." But then he does bath and bed at weekend (so I get to cook and wash up without having to interrupt myself with bedtime, I guess...!). I also was slightly taken aback at his comment the other weekend that he doesn't mow the lawn "because he works" which rocked me back on my chair slightly. I was under the impression I did it because I like to see my child through the grass, not hunt maniacally for him as darkness approaches. I didn't realise he had made a conscious decision not to do it, due to other labours. And there's the thing, no? The old saw about whose work is MORE. More important, more time, more draining and exhausting. When I'm feeling resentful about the small stuff I find myself counting hours: he comes home and is done around 7pm each night, I'm not done till 8.30/9pm sometimes. But then I also get to have time to myself 2 1/2 days a week, time when I actually can grab half an hour with a book which he doesn't, so really I'm on flexi-time.

And here's the other thing: it's what you're good at. I'm really REALLY bad at dealing with money. He's really REALLY bad at cleaning up and cooking. Seriously, last week I had to ditch a portion of tomato soup because he "didn't see it" on the hob when he was tidying up in order to put it in the fridge. He also didn't see the washing up or the messy work surface - it was at this point I finally put this idea of him partaking of housework to rest. He cannot do it. I have to redo it. Therefore, I just do it and it is done. And he has always been this way. Always. I cannot change him. It's true, leopards do not change their spots. So you come to accept it and this is the way it is and if it wasn't for him we wouldn't have a position of security from which to bitch and moan about the trivial shit.

And so on to saltimbocca, that "jump-in-the-mouth" Italian dish that sounds really complex and isn't. I like to do it with pork, but chicken or rose veal would be fine.

Per person:
1 pork escalope
1 slice Parma ham or prosciutto
1 sage leaf
1 cocktail stick

For the beans:
1 onion
1 clove garlic
1 courgette, diced
1 can cannellini beans, drained
2 sage leaves
4-5 ripe tomatoes

Place the escalopes between 2 sheets of clingfilm and bash them until they're quite thin - about 1/2 cm. Wrap a slice of ham around, place a sage leaf on top and secure with a cocktail stick. Pop them in the fridge until needed.

Meanwhile, sauté the onion and garlic in a little olive oil until softened, then add the courgette (or aubergine or other greens) until tender. Add the beans and chopped sage leaves then roughly chop up the tomatoes and add to the pan. Season and simmer for 15 minutes or until thickened.

Heat a knob of butter in a frying pan and fry off the escalopes for 2 minutes each side max, pressing down on them with a spatula to get the sage leaf nice and crisp. Spoon a little butter over them while cooking too. Remove to a place, tip out any burnt butter and deglaze the pan with a little white wine or marsala and a little extra butter for shine. Squeeze a little lemon juice over the meat, serve with the beans and knap over the sauce. Buon appetito.

A Smoky Porky Tex-Mex Baked Beans; Or What To Do With Leftover Roast

I really love a Sunday roast. Really love it. Plan it all week, down to the glass of very cold, dry sherry that I have while preparing it, which reminds me almost painfully nostalgically of Ma making the same meal, drinking the same drink while we swung off the wooden chair in the kitchen watching Antiques Roadshow and irritatingly asking on a loop "Is dinner ready yet?" Summer Sundays seem to have a bit of a gap in them because there's not two hours spent in the kitchen chopping, par-boiling, roasting, stirring.

Last Sunday was when I broke. We were having roast pork shoulder come what may, weather-wise. As the weather gradually brightened up, even I had to admit roast potatoes and creamed leeks and luscious gravy were perhaps not the way forward as we sat squinting in the sunlight. So I changed tack, nicked a recipe out of Delicious magazine for an apricot, sherry & hazelnut stuffing and slow-roasted the joint while we went blackberry- and damson-ing. Leftover pork is obviously never an issue, given that I'll make apple sauce just for the sandwiches the next day (mayonnaise and stuffing also obligatory), but 3 days on, I needed it out of the fridge. So...

Serves 3

1 onion, finely sliced
1 red pepper, chopped
3 cloves of garlic, chopped
6cm-ish piece of chorizo, choppped
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1-2 chipotle chillies (or dried chilli flakes or Tabasco or whatever you have, however much you want)
1 x400g can butter beans (or haricot or cannellini or whatever you have)
200ml beef stock
1x 400g can tinned tomatoes
Leftover pork, chopped (This would work really well with beef, lamb and chicken as well)
S & P
To serve: chopped avocado, sour cream, chopped coriander, tortilla chips...

This is dead easy. Cook the onion, pepper and garlic in a little olive oil until golden then throw in the chorizo and spices. Cook until the oil runs from the chorizo and turns everything reddy-brown, then add the beans, tomatoes and stock. Simmer for 20-25 minutes until reduced a little, then add the pork and heat through. Check for seasoning and spice, then serve with the accompaniments. MCD Jr had his with buttery corn on the cob which would also hit the right notes.

You can add any vegetables to this you fancy and use any beans or meat, but it's a wonderful sweet, smoky take on chilli and baked beans. We ate shed-loads and I've got some leftover for lunch. You can extend it easily with more beans and more tomatoes if you want to bulk-cook and freeze.

PS: MCD Jr's veg count is at the moment a bit low - he seems to be on another picky phase. So I'm back to putting out batons of carrots, cucumber and sugar snap peas as an appetiser if he's hungry before dinner, which means at least some fresh veg is eaten.

Root Vegetable Rosti

So tonight, in reaction to all that beige last night, we're going Technicolour. This root vegetable rosti is almost neon with carrot, beetroot, apple and potato. You can spice it up with garam masala or other spices, tart it up with a sprightly tomato sauce, keep it veggie or use it as a side to meat or fish. And feel free to vary the vegetables: celeriac, parsnip, kohlrabi and swede all have their place here.

Serves 2-4

1 large potato, peeled
2 small beetroot, peeled
1 large carrot, peeled
1 apple, peeled
1 onion, peeled (optional)
Salt and pepper
1 egg, beaten
2 tbsp. plain flour

Grate the veg and mix in a bowl. Whisk in the egg and flour and season well. Add spices now if you're doing that. Pour a good covering of oil into a non-stick pan and add the veg mix, flattening it down. Leave it to cook and brown over a moderate heat for 10-15 minutes or until golden-brown and you feel brave enough to turn it onto a plate, then slide back into the pan to cook the other side. If you don't feel like you want to do that - and the key really is to leave it to cook long enough - do individual ones; just cook until properly golden on both sides.

We're having ours with roasted chicken thighs and some fresh tomatoes diced and cooked with garlic and a little ground cumin and coriander. These do go well, however, with some kind of pig.

Smoked Haddock Chowder - Beige Night

Digression: In 5 or even 6 weeks time - and it's wholly uncertain which - we get to move again. Third time in 3 years. This time it's just around the corner, quite literally: we can hear the diggers from our back garden. We're buying a new-build and we're putting down roots: the two aren't quite as mutually exclusive, it seems, as you might think.

Renting's an odd thing. Get the right house and you can kid yourself for quite a long time it's all good. The beige walls and carpet can be coloured up with a few wall stickers and picture, the lounge can withstand the red rug everyone hates, even you, though you bought it to cover the carpet a little and "accent" the throws you bought to lighten up the furniture. But still it comes down to the boring mantra "Don't swing/bash/colour that - it's not ours" and you all feel slightly dampened; it's not yours and you can't touch it. Hard with a small child, harder still when you just want to colour the damn beige in yourself. I'm going mad with wall stickers when we finally move in. MAD.

Anyway, tonight's dinner is also distinctly on the beige side. Tbh, I needed to use up milk, which seems to multiply in my fridge like pigweed in the night and so this, as well as the mac cheese that is no doubt coming later in the week, is just the thing. V easy and feel free to use smoked cod, or bacon as well, or different veg: this is just what we had in. Mussels make a very fine luxe version, for the weekend maybe.

Serves 3

400g or so smoked fish
300ml milk
100ml double cream
bay leaf and peppercorns
knob of butter
1 onion, finely sliced
1 leek, finely sliced
Handful small potatoes or indeed 1-2 large potatoes, peeled and diced
Frozen peas and sweetcorn (optional)
Handful raw prawns
Chopped parsley or dill
Squeeze of lemon juice

Simmer the smoked fish in the milk and cream with the bay leaf and peppercorns for 5-7 minutes or until it flakes away. Discard the skin, reserve the liquid and set the fish aside.

Sweat the alliums in the butter until truly soft and slippery. Add the potatoes and cook for a few minutes without browning, then add the milk/cream and simmer for 10 minutes or until soft. Add a little more milk or cream or even fish stock if you feel it needs topping up. This is a soup so you want generous amounts of liquid.

Add the haddock, prawns and peas and corn if using. I like the idea of corn in a chowder, MCD hates it, but I'm cooking, so ho-hum. Simmer until the prawns are cooked, then adjust the seasoning and add the herbs and lemon juice. Serve in deep bowls with crusty baguette for dunking.

Spanish-style Fish Stew

I'm not one for "family-friendly" food. I think I might have said before that this whole "family-friendly" schtick really pees me off; I'm not even sure what it's supposed to mean other than an assumption the entire family is only happy if eating gristle nuggets, limp microwave chips and bowls of ketchup. It's as patronising and demeaning as it is irritating, and even more so when you happen to have a child who - I kid you not - will order fish and chips with peas and spend happy hours peeling off the batter to get to the fish and scoffing it, eating the peas, leaving a beige collation of cold chips and batter on the side of the plate. Service staff have been known to raise their eyebrows in a questioning "Seriously?" before tentatively asking if everything was alright - because if the batter and chips are left, what could have been eaten? I tend to balk at those places, tbh.

Actually he's a fantastic eater full-stop but that's because I really believe in what I'm doing and I'm really stubborn. I don't honestly recall having bought fish fingers, nuggets or anything of that ilk, EVER, but that's not to say they're wholly bad; some - my own family included - have called me mean, as if I'm depriving him of some obligatory sensory experience necessary to validate the life of a 3 year old, but he was already occasionally having those things at school, so I don't see why I should narrow his palate profile - which sounds as if I just made it up and I did - by serving the same at home. If we have burgers, we tend to make them; we have sausages, just not with chips, and we only tend to have chips if we have steak or fish....

Also - and I will get to the recipe in a minute but bear with - I have to tell you about a recent triumph which has everything to do with persistence and patience and nothing to do with bourgeois snobbery AT ALL. MCD Jr has always loved smoked salmon, to the point he used to make my sister gag with the alacrity with which he shoved it down, but over the last year decided he no longer liked it. So we said nothing, kept buying it occasionally, offering it and telling him the story of how he ate it "when he was a baby" and hoped he'd change his mind. Finally, a few weeks ago, I was putting some out for lunch and asked him as usual if he'd fancy some. MCD Jr thought solemnly about it for some seconds then asked if he could. Then ate a slice in much the usual fashion before announcing it was once more acceptable to his palate and he now liked that AND little prawns. Next challenge: mussels.

So the thing I cooked last night was not "family-friendly" but it was the sort of thing I tend to cook and expect everyone to eat or go hungry, which is sort of the rule in our house. It was Spanish-style because I had some chorizo from Aldi and some Serrano ham and I wanted to do fish because I always want to eat more fish. I found some Cape Hake in M&S which was marvellous, but you could use any firm white fish. Also feel free to lose the ham and add mussels, clams or even bacon if you want. The meat is optional but you need to substitute the flavour punch. Also, add olives and capers if you like it really piquant. I just always have to fish them out onto my plate and last night I couldn't be bothered.

Also, I know it's a bit odd to only use 2 tinned toms out of a can but I didn't want exactly the same richness of tomato as we had in the pasta. You could use chopped fresh tomatoes instead quite easily.

Olive oil
1 onion, peeled and finely sliced
1 courgette, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 tsp smoked paprika
8cm piece of chorizo, finely sliced
1-2 slices Serrano ham, finely chopped
Glug of white wine or even dry sherry if you have it
Handful small new potatoes, quartered
400g tin butter beans, drained
2 tinned tomatoes (save the rest of the tin for a pasta sauce or something....)
300-400ml chicken stock
1 bay leaf
300g white fish
Parsley, chopped

Sweat the vegetables in olive oil until golden and soft, then add the paprika, chorizo and ham and cook until the fat runs and turns it reddy. Add the wine, potatoes and beans and stir well and simmer for a couple of minutes, then add the toms and chicken stock and bay leaf, season and simmer for 20-25 minutes or until the potatoes are tender. Chop the fish into decent sized chunks and slide in for 10 mins or until cooked. Check the seasoning, sprinkle with parsley and serve in deep bowls with good bread.

Miscellany to make up for lost time or In which I got fidgety

I've been sadly neglectful of my poor old blog in the last few weeks. At first it was just frenetic everyday busy-ness getting in the way, then as the days passed, I got a little nervous about posting anything because I felt I didn't have anything in the least remarkable to say. I've been mute on the oil disaster, our new Age of Austerity, the Cumbria tragedy and more besides because I've felt - most peculiarly - it wasn't my place to add anything.


So to get back into the swing of things here's a picture of my startlingly lovely clematis last week.

And here are the violas, going like gangbusters and putting up a brave fight against the encroaching nasturtiums.

I also came up with a rather lovely roasted aubergine dip recipe:

Roast a couple of aubergines in a hot oven until blackened all over. Cut them in half and scrape out the insides into a food processor. Add a tbsp of pomegranate molasses, 1-2 tbsp tahini, a squeeze of lemon juice, salt and pepper and a little olive oil and blitz until smooth. Be careful how much olive oil you add - it can make the dip a bit runny. Check the flavourings - I particularly like the tanginess of the pomegranate, but you may want more tahini and more salt. Scatter with chopped parsley and pine nuts et voila.

Given the lovely weather, I've also been reading like crazy. To prepare myself for Sylvia Beach's letters, recently published in the States, I've gone back to Noel Riley Fitch's biography of this extraordinary, selfless, generous woman who acted as a personal interchange and bank for many of the foremost writers of the earliest 20th century who found themselves on Paris' Left Bank, in particular James Joyce who, without the personal and financial aid, commitment and sacrifice of Sylvia, wouldn't have been published at all. A re-visit to writers such as Hemingway and F Scott is made all the more satisfying for another piece of the jigsaw pushed into place.

A recipe for cornbread

It's probably not something one makes terribly often, but cornbread is terribly easy and an incredibly useful thing to have hanging around once you've finished devouring warm slices of it with the BBQ rabbit as below or spare ribs.

1 tbsp caster sugar

150g cornmeal (you'll most probably find it as polenta)

250g plain flour

3 tsp baking powder

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 tsp salt

50g softened butter

A handful spring onions, finely chopped

2 eggs, beaten

150g yoghurt

300ml milk

I use a standard loaf tin which I grease and line with greaseproof paper, for extra non-stick.

Preheat the oven to 160C.

Then put all the dry ingredients into a large bowl, add the butter and spring onions and stir together. Whisk together the eggs, yoghurt and milk and add to the dry ingredients and stir until combined. Spoon into the loaf tin.

Bake on a baking sheet for 45-60 minutes until golden and risen. The timing is a little imprecise but you just have to keep testing with a skewer and seeing if it comes out clean. Leave to cool slightly in the tin, then turn out onto a wire rack and leave to cool completely.

You can also add loads of different ingredients: grated cheese, chopped chillies, herbs... It's whatever you want it to be.

A Bonus Recipe for Leftovers:

The picture doesn't really convey the sunshine beaming out of the breakfast dish above, but take my word for it, it can make you very happy indeed. I happened to have some leftover rhubarb poached in orange juice and honey from the day before, which I reheated and added in some chopped fresh pineapple sauteed in a little butter. I warmed the cornbread in the oven - it's too fragile to toast - and then spooned over the hot fruit. I topped it with a little Greek yoghurt and a sprinkling of cinnamon.

The Easter Bunny... Barbecue style

Easter was for us this year a rather timid affair; both of us working at various points throughout yet we still managed to get the allotment dug over and planted up with potatoes (Duke of York), onions, shallots, garlic, broad beans and rocket; borage, lovage and oregano went into my herb pots and seed trays now adorn the kitchen windowsill filled with the potential of tomatoes of every hue and size.

Thus the dinner menus were also a tad subdued. Usually I go overboard with great legs of lamb and new spring greens but lamb is tricky to track down and I didn't have that much time. Easter Sunday turned out to be a roast chicken, but with goose fat-roasted potatoes, purple sprouting broccoli and the last few tiny baby leaves of kale from the allotment sauteed with garlic and a sauce made from pan-deglazing, white wine, crème fraiche, tarragon and halved green grapes.

But it was Saturday's quick meal that was really the highlight of the weekend. My freezer is chock-full of meat, mainly due to my inability to just say 'no' at the amazing cuts of beef at the farmers' market. However at the back was a whole jointed wild rabbit - of course - the Easter bunny, just waiting to be lovingly consumed at this appropriate junction. However, I didn't want to do the KFB recipe and I started thinking about the Deep South and barbecue.

Now, I know rabbit, with its tendency to dryness and its physical layout ain't that similar to pork ribs but I had a yearning for smoky barbecue sauce, coleslaw, cornbread and so on. SO:
Either the day before or in the morning, concoct a rub for the rabbit, mixing together a good slug of 3 of olive oil (helps keep the rabbit moist) with a tablespoon of paprika, ground ginger, cumin, a little (or a lot of) chilli powder, salt and pepper and a touch of mace or nutmeg if you haven't any. Leave the rabbit to marinate.

For the barbecue glaze, mix together English mustard, ketchup, cider vinegar, sugar, starting with a tablespoon of each and double the amount of ketchup and then tasting as you go. I added a dollop of barbecue sauce and a little of the smoky chipotle Tabasco I seem to have hanging around. You want it to be sweet, smoky, punchy with mustard and ultimately finger-licking.

Heat the oven to 180C and tip your now rather angrily-red bunny into a roasting tin, paint with half the glaze and whack in the oven for 15 minutes. Then remove from the oven, paint with the rest of the glaze (cover the tin with foil if you think it's burning a little with the sugar) and put back in for another 10 minutes. At this point the rabbit is cooked, but you may want to give it 5 minutes with the foil off to enhance the stickiness.

We had this with own-made cornbread (recipe to be posted), coleslaw and a garlicky, lemony baby spinach and tomato salad.

A quick lunch with leftover roast chicken

The remains of a roast chicken are a feast until perhaps Day 3; after that the excitement begins to pall just a little and you wonder what you might do to inject a little flavour back into proceedings. Well, wonder no more - this is a brilliant and quick ad-hoc solution I came up with today.

Finely shred any remaining meat and skin and add to a hot pan with a little vegetable oil and a crushed clove of garlic. While it's crisping (occasionally push around the pan so it doesn't stick), arrange aesthetically - or not - in a bowl, chopped tomato, baby spinach leaves and half a sliced papaya. These salad ingredients are simply what were in the fridge at the time, but try mango, pineapple, rocket, cucumber, spring onions - anything you fancy. Once the chicken and garlic are starting to fizzle and darken slightly sprinkle over a little sugar to help it all caramelise. Quickly whisk together a dressing with a good squeeze of lime, a little sugar, some chopped red chilli and a good drizzle of fish sauce. Then shake a few drops of soy sauce over the chicken and stir vigorously so the shards are sticky and dark gold. Tip the lot over the salad then pour over the dressing.

That's it. 10 minutes, tops. There is no photo - I ate it too fast. I would also try it with leftover roast pork, game and even lamb and beef - all are receptive to Thai flavours.

A warm salad for a rainy night

It doesn't sound entirely pre-possessing, does it, salad and rain not being best buddies, but stick with me. I've blogged before on the fabulousness that is Jerusalem artichoke soup and it does tend to be my reflex cooking method as it somewhat dims the side effects. However, last night I was in the mood for something punchier and more textured. Pace Nigel Slater, this is what I came up with.

Bung a couple of chicken thighs, legs, whatever, in the oven to roast with plenty of salt and lemon. That's the protein taken care of. Peel a big handful of Jersualem artichokes and dip into acidulated water. Steam them until tender - you may find it easier to cut the larger ones in half so they all steam equally. It takes about 15-20 minutes, but go carefully because they do have a tendency to turn to mush.

While they're steaming away, fry off some pancetta or streaky bacon with a sliced leek. Once golden and appetising-looking, remove from the pan with a slotted spoon. Slice your artichokes into pound coin thicknesses and add to the pan with a little more oil if needed. Sauté until golden brown and crisp then add the bacon and leek back in and season.

Whisk up a good mustardy dressing - I used a tbsp Dijon mustard, a squeeze of lemon and a lot of olive oil, then add a good handful of finely chopped parsley. On a plate arrange your chicken pieces and I put alongside a handful of pea shoots for the colour and sweetness. Then toss your artichoke mixture in the mustardy dressing and spoon on top of the pea shoots so they wilt a little. Sprinkle over a little more parsley and lemon if desired and tuck in.

Is too much bulghur vulgar?

I am rubbish at predicting how much I/we can eat. My eyes are at least 14000 times bigger than my stomach and when I'm measuring out rice or pulses or grains, my imaginary stomach gets the better of me and I end up eating said grain for days on end, mostly because MCD won't eat grains or lentils - they're 'bitty' apparently. So for the record, the amounts given below make enough for 4 people, I think.

I was muttering on about what to do with the lamb chops I had defrosted yesterday - my thoughts naturally wander to the ras-el-hanout spice rub I posted about below - but I wanted something different. The BookSeller mentioned tandoori-style, which seemed to hit the mental spot. I made a paste out of 1 tsp garam masala, 1 tsp ground cumin, 1/2 tsp turmeric, 1 tsp and a bit of dried mint, 2 crushed cloves garlic, squeeze of lemon and 1/2 tsp chilli powder with some vegetable oil and rubbed it over the chops.

Leaving them to marinate, I cut a courgette into chunky half moons and tossed with olive oil and lemon juice and arranged in one half of a roast tin. I cut an aubergine into hearty chunks (really they shrivel down to nothing - you'll be amazed - like spinach) and tossed with honey, olive oil and chilli flakes (no, really - try it) and arranged in the other half of the roasting tin. They went into the oven for about 20-30 mins, depending, but watch the honey as it burns quicker than you think.

Put 1 cup bulghur wheat with 2 cups water in a pan, brought to a simmer and cooked for about 17 minutes, until all the water has been absorbed. Tip #1: don't add salt at this stage Tip#2: if you're cooking this for 1 and some leftovers, do halve the quantities.

Once the vegetables were bronzed, I mixed them through the bulghur wheat with a drizzle of olive oil and a couple of handfuls of rocket I had in the fridge - you could use spinach. I popped the lamb chops into a fierce oven for 5 minutes a side while I mixed a couple of spoonfuls of plain yoghurt with garlic, dried mint, a little lemon juice and some black pepper.

Assemble ingredients on plate and make sure you eat lamb chops with fingers as walls will get splattered with yellow-blotched yoghurt.

PS: Today's lunch is very much a reprisal. Tonight's dinner - sticky marinaded chicken wings - will also be accompanied by same. It is not at all helpful MCD has such an aversion to 'grainy' things....

Snow and Pomegranates

The garden once again under an inch or two of snow this morning. I'm still not bored of it by any means, but then I don't have a 3 hour commute into work and I haven't been stranded overnight on the Devon moors, so I'll just keep quiet.

I haven't really felt like blogging much about food in the last week. An ongoing battle with tonsilitis and some kind of virus that is making me feel utterly rubbish means that, although I've been cooking, I haven't really been enthused. Last night was not much better, but I still fancied flavours that were bright and tangy rather than casserole-savoury.

I smeared a couple of lamb leg steaks with some olive oil and then sprinkled on ras-el-hanout and left for an hour. I roasted some butternut squash sprinkled with dried chilli flakes in the oven until tender and caramelised. Then I cooked the lamb steaks until pink and left to rest wrapped in foil while I sauteed some kale with pine nuts and soaked sultanas in the same pan. So far, so disparate, but I brought all the elements together with an eye-popping 'sauce' of Greek-style yoghurt stirred with a crushed clove of garlic, the juice of a lime and a healthy bashing of pomegranate seeds which looked so translucently beautiful against the white of the yoghurt, they gave me - pace Anne of Green Gables - a 'queer ache' (although that could just have been the effort of bashing the pomegranate...).

A gentle lift of spice from warmer shores combined with the tangy cooling pomegranate yoghurt briefly lifted us out of the mid-January slump.

In which we make a new discovery

Check out this Ume Plum Seasoning from Clearspring - you can find it in the supermarket, often in the specialist section. It's a vinegar seasoning from umeboshi plums, those fabulous salty-sour pickled Japanese plums, which are addictive as a nibble.

Last night I wok-fried (wokked?) diced aubergines and courgettes with a little sesame oil. Then I added ginger, garlic and chilli to the wok and some squid rings, cooked until opaque and tender. I then deglazed the pan with Chinese cooking wine (I know Japanese... Chinese are not the same thing but I wanted the sweetness of the wine) and a few dashes of the Ume seasoning and knapped the lot over the squid and veggies. This works because the salty-sourness of the Ume plum seasoning is tempered by the sweetness of the wine and then given fire with ginger and chillies. I even ended up adding more seasoning fresh on top. Pak choi steamed with garlic and oyster sauce on the side for a tres healthy dinner.

A dilly of a pickle...

... which happens to be my favourite bon mot at the moment... Anyway, green beans - nightmare - they get out of control running rampant within the confines of their wigwam (so not very out of control at all, in fact), get too long, too twisty, too pale to look any good. So, dear reader, we pickle them.

I've never really been into making jams and pickles and things - never had to deal before with an own-grown glut of things, so this was actually my first attempt. I have been driven for some years, however, to look out for a pickled green bean recipe - when I was in Boston a few years ago we went for the most awesome brunch and my Bloody Mary was served not with a celery stick, but with a pickled green bean. I thought the combination magical and have been on the lookout ever since, but nothing quite hit the mark until this. The base of the recipe comes from Christine McFadden's Farm Shop Cookbook.

So... with my notes...

Makes 4 x 600ml jars (I halved the recipe as I only had 2 jars).

850g green beans, stalks removed (I had as many as I could pick but that seemed to pack into 2 Kilner jars, but I did have to cut them in half to fit them in.)
1 large onion, halved and thinly sliced
4 garlic cloves, peeled
8 sprigs dill
1.25 L distilled (malt) vinegar (careful halving this as you may need more than half. I can't explain that - I failed Physics over and over)
280g sugar
2 1/2 tsp salt
2 1/2 tsp dill seeds (in lieu of which I used fennel seeds)

Plunge the beans into boiling water for 3 minutes, then drain and refresh under cold running water. I did this as it's supposed to keep their viridian colour, but mucked it up later - see below. Pack vertically - or anyway you can - or layering into the kilner jars with the onion, garlic and dill sprigs.

Heat the vinegar, sugar, salt and dill/fennel seeds in a saucepan, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Bring to the boil briefly, then remove from the heat and leave to cool for a few minutes. I recommend cooling almost completely, as pouring it over the beans when hot renders them khaki rather than appetisingly bright green, as you're continuing the cooking somewhat. Ideally the liquid should come to the top. Seal and store in a cool place for at least a week.

I left these 9 days, then cracked a jar open. The beans had retained their crunch, which I had been worried about and tasted fabulous. A little on the short side, perhaps, but then, aren't we all...?

The Ultimate Burger

You need a few things to make up the perfect burger:
1. The right meat.
Just now I favour chuck, carefully de-sinewed and coarsely minced.
2. The right bun.
Supermarket ones are ridiculous in every sense; I like the idea of brioche buns but haven't yet found one to convince me and an old-fashioned floury bun somehow doesn't hit the right note for a thick own-made rare-cooked piece of beef. Try these - Tortano rolls from The Flour Station.
3. The right topping.
Hmm... tricky one. I dithered for years between the mayo-ketchup combo with fresh sliced tomatoes and a little lettuce, gherkin and melted cheese and blue cheese-mustard-with a tad of onion marmalade occasionally. Both are/were good. The one below's better.
4. Inspiration.
It's not enough to just fancy a burger - for it to be good, you've got to put love, effort, quality into it, otherwise you may as well bugger off to McB King. And occasionally it's enough to read something completely drool-inducingly inspiring - Let me introduce the Bobcat Burger from Helen Graves' Food Stories blog. People, this is our model.

I use about 120g per burger and add simply salt and pepper before rounding it to a thick patty. The reason I like my burgers thicker rather than flatter is that I like them rare and this gives you more margin for error what with the essential resting period.

Cook the burgers preferably in a heavy-based sauteuse, until done to just under your liking. Probably about 2-3 mins per side if rare. Take them out, cover with foil and leave to rest. Then melt a knob of butter in the pan and add a green chilli, sliced and de-seeded (if like me, you want a little heat but more flavour) and about 100ml hot chicken stock. Fry the little chillies in the mixture until the liquid has reduced a bit. Tip in any resting juices from the burgers.

Tip this mixture carefully over the burgers, making sure the chillies perch on the burger, then cover with lots of finely-sliced cheese - I had Jarlsberg, because that's what I could find, but try Gruyere - point is, you want something relatively mild, but that sticks the chillies to the burger. Flash under a hot grill to make the cheese ooze.

Manoeuvre into a split Tortano bun and devour. The buns themselves are very filling so you might not need the handful of home-made potato wedges I made to accompany this. We are simply piggies.

As Helen points out, these come courtesy of The Meat Wagon who tours around, but he's in The States at the mo, learning more on the perfect burger - experiment with this while he's refining his dark arts.

Squid with an autumnal hue

Last night I decided to do something a little different with the 2 squid I had in the freezer. Usually I either griddle or bbq it with chilli and lime, or slice into rings and cook it with a breadcrumbs and lemon pangrattato. Last night, though, Autumn felt decidedly in the air and in my kitchen, so out came whole roasted squid with roasted vegetables and chorizo dressing.

So... for two people, parboil 6 baby leeks for about 3 mins, then leave to steam dry. Add to a roasting tin with quartered radicchio or chicory, courgettes sliced lengthways, quartered fennel - anything you fancy really, but that's what I had and roast until wilted and bronzed.

On the hob, saute chopped chorizo, garlic and rosemary in olive oil until the fat has run. (This recipe is actually a bastardized version of a Jamie at Home, but who follows the rules...?). Then scoop out with a slotted spoon, leaving the oil behind and fry off a good handful of stale breadcrumbs until rusted and crisp. Scoop them out, set aside and add the chorizo mix back into the pan. Add a good squeeze of lemon and 1-2 tbsp of balsamic.

When you're about ready to go, prepare the squid. Mine were whole and - tip from Jamie again - slide a large knife down the middle of the squid, then score concertina-like cuts about 1cm apart along the length of the squid - the inner knife ensures you won't cut through. Add the squid and tentacles to the roasting tin, set the timer for 4-5 mins (depending on size) and gently reheat the dressing.

Take the tin out the oven, arrange the veggies and squid on a plate, pour over the dressing and scatter over a handful of breadcrumbs. Deeply savoury, pleasingly textured and the autumnal hues are spirit-lifting on a dull night.

Sunny - Outside and In

When the weather's gloomy as all hell we all need a touch of sunshine. Check out Island Fusion in Crystal Palace for a bask in the warm rays of Caribbean hospitality. And a glorious sunset painted along the back wall for extra good-mood vibes. Four of us has a starter platter with jerk wings, ackee fritters, grilled plantain, callaloo and dipping sauces; then curried lobster, a deeply savoury oxtail with rice and peas, jerk pork and chicken, bammy (cassava crumbed and fried) - a feast and a spicy, savoury kick up summer's backside.

Saturday was pizza night - we'll gloss. I made the dough to prove in the breadmaker - (did it in my old breadmaker before and it worked a treat). Came out curiously half-cooked, so we leapt into action and kneaded together another load of dough to prove for an hour, before rolling it out and leaving it to prove for another 30-45 mins. The tomato sauce was simple - garlic, basil and our own cherry tomatoes cooked down with olive oil and left chunky (laziness rather than purity winning the upper hand there). My favourite topping combination at the moment is aubergines, cubed and roasted in olive oil with oregano, then adding them to the pizza and topping with fresh chilli. Bake it off, then top with cold ricotta and fresh basil and a drizzle of olive oil.

And Sunday saw a Portuguese steak sandwich: marinade the steak in bay leaf, oregano, a couple of tbsp red wine, olive oil, crushed dried chilli flakes, onion and garlic for a couple of hours. Drain the marinade and reduce to a tough, punchy little sauce. Griddle the steaks and slap in split and toasted ciabatta with rocket and the sauce dribbled over... Add potato wedges and it's a feast for a sultry Sunday night in the garden with a South American red...

A taste of Thai for a rainy night

Monsoon rains and all this soggy dampness make me long for something zingy and refreshing to cheer up my tastebuds. Thai really fits the bill when this hits and I think tamarind and lime has to rate as one of my favourite flavour combinations of all time.

First catch your plate - it has to be large. I had some pork mince hanging around (or rather, it was the only thing I could see in the freezer, most other things obscured by a massive side of smoked salmon and 2 frozen lobsters - a haul from Costco courtesy of lobster-lover and bargain-hunter MCD - don't ask). I added some chopped spring onions and lime zest, salt and pepper and fashioned it into small patties, like flattened meatballs.

I made a dressing from Thai fish sauce, lime juice, more chopped spring onions, sugar and chilli - it's hard to be accurate about quantities as it's down to personal taste, but start off with a tsp of each and work from there.

I peeled courgette ribbons and dropped them on a plate with some chopped mint, torn basil and a few halved cherry tomatoes. Then blanched some green beans (this wasn't at all using up veggies from the garden...). I carefully separated some lettuce leaves, keeping the whole and added them to the plate. The patties were seared until golden brown on each side and cooked through then I squeezed over a little lime juice and some salt.

Each patty was then wrapped in a lettuce leaf with some of the herby vegetable mixture, using the lettuce like a tortilla. I spooned some of the dressing over the patty and devoured. Hot pork, crunchy cool vegetables and a spicy, sour, salty dressing. The beans benefited from a little of the dressing too, or you could keep them plain or not have them at all, depending on whether you're relying on someone to pick them at more regular intervals...

Notes from an amateur cheesemaker

I've found this short series of River Cottage a bit more engaging than they have been of late, although I wish I could get my hands on Hugh's scripts - good grief... Anyway, last week I was completely inspired by his goats cheese making and turning said cheese into a baked cheescake.
I downloaded the recipe from the site and it's so simple - goats milk and rennet. That's it.

So, ingredients purchased, I got cheese-ifying. I heated the milk to a body-temperature 37C, removed it from the heat and added the rennet according to the instructions - 10 drops per pint, therefore roughly 35 drops. I gave it a quick stir and went off to read in the garden for the recommended 15 minutes while the curd and whey separated.

20 minutes later, the whole is still decidedly liquid. I checked the instructions, made a phone call to my colleague, who's done this kind of thing before, whose advice was 'give it a bit longer and add some lemon juice' and left it for another 20 minutes. I tried slicing a knife through it and the knife scored remained - looking more hopeful. I tested a bit by adding a spoonful to a sieve (on the premise that if it doesn't slip through the sieve, we're good to go with the muslin...). It held. So, dear reader (I can feel the hot breath of your anticipation on the back of my neck... go away), I lined a sieve with muslin and spooned it in. I wasn't hopeful - like really loose blancmange. I'm not entirely sure Hugh's estimate is spot-on - Christ knows what he put in his, although I wouldn't blame the cheese for getting a move on if it thought it was on TV.

I let it drip through for a good half-hour before taking it upstairs and hanging it from an elaborate contraption involving a bamboo cane, a stepladder, the bed and a large bowl - it's still there this morning. There is a lot of whey, people, a lot of whey.... And not much bloody cheese in the muslin, so my doubts about the rennet remain and now my fear is I shall have to sully my virginal goats cheese with shop-bought...

I'm making the cake itself on Saturday for a BBQ. At this stage, it may just be a small mound of goats cheese and some poached gooseberries for pudding, but you never know. I may be able to do a Marie Antoinette and let there be cake.