Wednesday 29 December 2010

My recipe for pumpkin/squash curry

For 4 persons, depending on how hungry you are; factor up, as appropriate.

VEGETARIAN

Ingredients:
2 tbsp. sunflower oil
100 g Thai yellow curry paste (though Indian will do)
One of: 1 tsp. mustard, 1 chopped chilli or 1 tsp. hot chilli powder
2 medium onions
2 lemongrass stalks
8 cardamon pods
1 tbsp. coriander seeds
1 substantial pumpkin and/or squash
300 ml vegetable stock
1 small tin of coconut cream
400 g Chickpeas
1 lime
Some fresh mint leaves


What to do:

Finely chop the onions, and gently fry with the oil in a big, deep pan.

Bash the lemongrass and chuck it in, with the curry paste, cardamom and coriander seeds, plus your choice of mustard or chilli.

Throw the chopped pumpkin / squash into the pan and give it all a good stir.

Next add the vegetable stock and the coconut, and raise the temperature to a gentle simmer.

Wash the chickpeas and stir them in. Use a lid on the pan, if you can.

Simmer all gently for 20 minutes.

Towards the end, squeeze in the lime juice, and remove the lemongrass stalks.

Just before serving, stir in shredded mint leaves.

Enjoy the food before it disappears, and bask in the compliments.

Sunday 31 January 2010

My recipe for ratatouille

+
For 2 persons

Ingredients:
Olive oil – you choose the quantity
4 fresh tomatoes
1 large onion
2 cloves of garlic
2 bay leaves
1 star anise, broken up
3 cloves
A teaspoon of coriander seeds
A tablespoon of dried thyme
1 tin of chopped tomatoes
Worcester sauce
Tomato sauce
Tabasco
30ml vinegar (of your choice)
Grated lemon zest
2 medium-sized aubergines (or 1 large)
2 medium courgettes
3 sticks of celery
6-8 stoned black olives
Black pepper grinds
Chopped basil leaves – you choose the quantity


What to do:

Peel, de-seed and chop the fresh tomatoes.

Add olive oil to a large heavy casserole dish, and gently fry the chopped onion and garlic, cooking for at least 10 minutes, with no lid.

Add the 2 bay leaves, the broken star anise, the 3 cloves, the coriander seeds and the thyme to the casserole, at your own pace, during the frying.

Next add the chopped fresh and tinned tomatoes, with dashes of Worcester sauce, tomato sauce and Tabasco. Stir well and cook for 30 minutes, with a lid on.

Towards the end of that period add vinegar and grated lemon zest to the tomato mix, and stir well again.

Meanwhile, you can get on with cutting the aubergine, courgettes and celery into small cubes, trying to keep any dimension within ½ an inch (especially the celery, which benefits from being chopped finely). Keep the piles of three chopped vegetables separate.

In a frying pan, fry the three vegetables (aubergine, courgette and celery) in turn, for 5 minutes each, in olive oil.

As each is finished, add them to the tomato mix in the casserole. ALTERNATIVELY, pour them into a pre-heated slo-cooker and chuck the tomato mix in after them.

Add the chopped olives, some grinds of black pepper and give a good stir to the whole mix.

If cooking in the casserole, simmer gently for at least an hour.

If cooking in the slo-cooker, leave to cook slowly at low heat for at least two hours.

About 10 minutes from your estimated serving time, add chopped basil leaves.

At this point you can taste to adjust with extra Worcester sauce, Tabasco and ground pepper, as you see fit. Resist any temptation to add salt.


Spoon out on warmed plates, for your companion and you.

I recommend home-cooked ciabatta bread with this dish, and a conversation about the meaning of life.

John Vernon

Saturday 30 January 2010

Fish head soup

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Ingredients:
2 heads of Sea Bream
Sea salt
Herbes de Provence
Squeeze of lemon
Soy Sauce
3 Bay leaves
Dash of Angostura bitters
4 chopped shallots and 4 cloves of garlic, fried in sunflower oil
1 ½ carrots, chopped
Small tin of tuna steak
Anchovy paste
Tomato puree
Mayonnaise


Story and how to:

Standing in the queue at the supermarket, the man in front of me asked for the heads on two Sea Bream to be removed. The fishmonger chopped them off and left the heads on his cutting board. When it was my turn, I ordered a Scottish kipper and asked for the two fish heads. He popped them in a bag – after a slight quizzical hesitation – and gave them to me for free.

“The head is the best bit of the fish”, I said.
“You were lucky; they were just going in the bin,” he said.

At home in the kitchen, I popped the fish heads in a pot, and nearly covered them with filtered tap water. I found some Sel de Camargue sea salt, and sprinkled the heads liberally with it. I pitched in a large pinch of Herbes de Provence (kept in a jar near the TV, and hardly ever used); that is mainly thyme, rosemary and lavender – I think.

In the fridge, I found a small plastic bottle of soy sauce, left over from previous sushi take-aways. That went in, plus a squeeze from a slightly bedraggled lemon. I chopped up the remaining 1 ½ carrots from the bottom of my fridge. Despite being way past their ‘use by date’, they looked firm and crunchy. So they went in too. I turned the gas on to gently heat the mixture. What next?

I spied my ancient bottle of Angostura Bitters, and shook several large drops of the pink liquid in. Inspiration struck when I thought what might be in my garden. Oh Yes! I hopped outside and snipped off three leaves from the large bay tree.

Putting the lid on, I let the soup start to simmer away. A small frying pan with sunflower oil was heated on the adjacent gas ring. I ferreted around in the garage and came up with 4 shallots and 4 cloves of garlic. These were assiduously peeled and chopped and thrown into the frying pan, where they sizzled quickly.

The soup mixture was bubbling merrily. The shallots and garlic were throwing out delicious smells. Oops. Better put the extractor fan on. Done.

I stirred the soup mixture and thought it might need a bit more thickening. Another search for ingredients: I found tubes of anchovy paste and tomato puree in the fridge door. A quick squeeze of these into the increasingly potent brew, and things were looking good.

Before the shallots and garlic browned too much, I killed the flame under the frying pan and tossed them in the soup. Put the lid back on and let it simmer slowly.

Let’s eat outside, I thought. I set up a chair on the lawn, in the brilliant July sunshine, within reach of an area of shade. Found my trusty hat. Laid out a tray, with eating tools and a paper napkin. Found a bottle of cold Vanilla Coke in the fridge.

I sliced some Ciabatta bread and toasted it lightly. While that was going on, I dug out the potato masher, and plunged it into the fish soup. The fish heads broke up immediately, and the vegetable bits started disintegrating nicely.

Still needs a bit more fishy substance, I thought. So I located a small tin of tuna steak on a garage shelf; drained the oil and shovelled it into the soup. More simmering. More mashing.

Time for a taste. I ladled a sample onto a small plate, let it cool and tasted. Heavenly! A touch more lemon. All systems go.

I put a sieve on a pyrex bowl, and poured the soup mixture through. The fish and vegetable substance remaining above the sieve need more mashing and coaxing through. It didn’t go through the narrow mesh too well, and I was wondering whether I should have chopped it up in a food processor. Can’t be bothered. Anyway, I’m getting hungry.

The soup was briefly reheated, with large dollops of mayonnaise added. The solid fish/vegetable gunge I tipped onto a flat plate. It had a clear sieve mesh pattern on it. Gathered up the bread, soup bowl and everything onto the tray.

Out the door to the garden, with hat on (it was a summer day).

The soup was glorious, and the view of the Surrey Hills from my back garden idyllic. The fish plate had to be picked at carefully, due to the many bones and bits. However it was quite acceptable food. I watched my tortoise scratch around in the dried leaves under the hedge. I was pestered only by a few wasps, who kept settling on the fish plate. The soup bowl was hot on my legs, but every drop of soup was inspiring.