100 posts: what's it all about, then?

This blog and I have reached a mini-milestone. It's taken just over a couple of years to get here, but we've finally made it: 100 posts.

'100' sounds vaguely important, doesn't it? I feel I should be celebrating, or doing something momentous, such as cooking some outrageously inventive dish, or coming up with a suitably profound insight into the world of food blogging.

But that's not really what this blog's been about. So far, it's been a rather eclectic mix of restaurant 'reviews', several recipes, a peek at a few cookbooks, and some random other stuff. Focussed and organised, it is not. It's not even a reliable indicator of what I cook or eat - I blog only a tiny fraction of all that. Sadly, there aren't enough hours in the day or days in the week.

I have, however, learnt a few things along the way (notably, that I prefer to eat my food while it's hot, rather than faff around photographing it, and that British daylight really isn't up to the job for much of the year), and that the more I learn, the more I learn that I've got lots more learning still to do. Hmm. There endeth the first (and only) lesson: food blogging = mini life lesson.

And, of course, it's been fun. I've discovered an amazing array of food bloggers (for me, it all started with the wonderful mattbites), been to some great restaurants and food 'events', tried new recipes, and revisited old ones. I've trialled new products, reviewed cookbooks, and interviewed a few of my food heroes. When I started this blog, all those months ago, I had no idea that it would bring me so many opportunities.

Above all, though, it's been about the FOOD - about making it, eating it, trying it, sharing it, and enjoying all that it brings. Food is my raison d'etre, my modus operandi, and quite probably my most powerful memory bank. I wouldn't have it any other way.

So, dang it, I WILL celebrate - with 3 photos from last week that neatly sum up some of what 'a forkful of spaghetti' has been all about...

1. Cheese, lovely cheese

Or, to be more precise, Yarg, lovely Yarg. Cheese has always been a big part of my life. As far back as I can remember, when smelly cheeses were largely unknown here and the cause of much instant suspicion, my dad was buying wonderful and weird cheeses and bringing them home like a proud hunter. Where he got his love of the stuff from, I don't know. It certainly wasn't from his upbringing. But I share that love, and now that he no longer lives or works anywhere near a decent cheesemonger, I take particular pleasure in tracking down cheeses for him that he may not have come across before. I'm fairly certain he's familiar with Yarg, but that won't stop me buying him another truckle at some point in the not-too-distant future.

Carefully wrapped in nettles, it's gorgeous to look at - but it's better still to eat. Despite its slightly chalky, crumbly appearance, it's actually a smooth and creamy cheese. Buttery, tangy, earthy, and with a hint of the salty sea from the Cornish coast, it's subtle and extremely moreish. The baby pictured above came to me from the kind people at Lynher Dairies. Apparently, they're also offering heart-shaped truckles for Valentine's Day. If your lover is a cheese lover, then this is surely a perfect gift.

2. Chocolate, in (almost) any form

'Real' chocolate has been my big discovery of the past few years. As a child, I was never into all those sickly Cadbury and other confections, and so never really ate much chocolate. Easter eggs would go untouched. Christmas tins would go unopened. Chocolate cakes, however, and some chocolate biscuits, were a different matter altogether. And now I understand why. It's all in the cocoa. Cakes were made with the real stuff, whereas the chocolates of my childhood were not.

Now my life is happily punctuated with real chocolate, and London, even more happily for me, is studded with some truly great British chocolatiers. Paul A Young, Demarquette, L'Artisan du Chocolat, Melt, Damian Allsop... I salute you all. And a special mention must go the Mother of them all, Rococo, and its founder, Chantal Coady. I've got messy in the Motcomb Street kitchen and learnt a tremendous amount over the last two years about all things cocoa from Chantal and 'Prof Choc', Laurent Couchaux - from the secrets of ganache-making through how to make a perfect mousse to how to taste chocolate properly.

But while my stash of real chocolate is a relative novelty, my love of chocolate biscuits, cakes, and desserts still thrives. Last week, I made a batch of deeply dark, all-chocolate chewy, fudgy cookies. With a glass (or mug, in my case) of cold milk, they are one of my life's simple but indulgent pleasures.

3. Eating out
Let's get a few things straight. I love cooking, and I cook a LOT. Most of it is functional, and goes largely unblogged - the evening meal - but I enjoy it no less for that. But - and it's a big but - I do also love eating out from time to time. Whether it's being cooked for by friends or eating at a restaurant, it's all good as far as I'm concerned.

Eating in restaurants does, of course, lend itself to a special kind of expectation. I'm fascinated and awed by what some chefs come up with, and my tastebuds revel in trying something new. I usually make a point of ordering things I can't readily get hold of, have never eaten before, or know I'll never make in a month of Sundays. Sometimes expectations are sorely disappointed; sometimes they're spectacularly exceeded. For me, it's all part of the adventure.

At the very tail end of last summer, I was lucky enough to visit Pierre Koffman's 'pop-up' restaurant. From start to finish, the meal was superb, and the experience will live long in my memory. Last week, I received this through the post:

A menu from the night, signed by the great man himself! I was, and still am, ridiculously chuffed. Claire, his partner, had been as good as her word. She took a note of my name on the night and promised she'd get Pierre to sign a menu for me. Weeks and months passed. Nothing. I wasn't unduly disappointed - I still had the memories of one of my great dining experiences, and Koffmann is, after all, a tremendously busy man. How could I possibly be disappointed?

Now, though, that memory is forever signed and sealed. I'll be framing it and putting it somewhere that I can see it every day. The autograph thrills me, the cartoon amuses me, and the menu serves as inspiration and a reminder of a truly great meal and experience. I couldn't ask for more.

And that's what food is all about, isn't it? Fun, experiences, memories.

What will my next 100 posts bring? I have no idea. But I can guarantee you there's a lot more fun, experiences, and memories still to pass this way.

spice up your life: keema shepherd's pie, a twist on an old classic

I hope I'm not tempting a flurry of emails here, but I've yet to come across someone who doesn't like shepherd's pie and/or its sibling, cottage pie.

It's the stuff that my (and I suspect, many others') childhood was made of - a warming, comforting fest of rich minced lamb, covered in a blanket of crispy-baked mashed potato. If there was ever a perennial family favourite, then shepherd's pie - along with the Sunday roast - is surely it.

The love affair, for me, continues to this day. Though I rarely cook it myself, I still get ridiculously excited if someone cooks it for me (any offers, please feel free to email me...). There's something about those lamby wafts that gets me just... there... every time. And, of course, the prospect of those crunchy, 'umamied' bits of potato... y'know, the bits that everyone scrapes the dish for and fights over. Yep, those, too. In fact, there's not a single aspect of shepherd's pie that doesn't appeal to me.

A week or so ago, somewhere out of left field, I had a thought. I'd been thinking of actually making a shepherd's pie myself for once, when I had a sudden urge (settle down at the back there) for some spice. So maybe I'd make some keema instead.

Oh, HANG ON....

(see where this is going yet? OK, so the title of this post rather gives it away, but go with it...)

And so the idea of a keema shepherd's pie was born. Since I get excited about keema almost to the same extent as I get excited about shepherd's pie, you can probably picture the scene. Yes, it's fair to say I was, well, excited.

So - to the recipe books. And most of all, to the (or my) goddess of reference on all things Indian cookery, Madhur Jaffrey. (I really don't know as much about Indian cooking as I feel I should, after all my years of eating it, so if anyone has other recommendations for great Indian recipe-book authors, please let me know.) I have a few recipes of hers that are personal favourites, including - thankfully - one for keema matar (lamb mince with peas), and another for zeera aloo (spicy potatoes). Both of them come from her 'Simple Indian Cookery' book.

I realise that there are probably about as many different versions of keema matar and zeera aloo as I have had hot dinners, so I won't trot out Jaffrey's here unless you specifically ask me to (leave a comment, and I'll get back to you). Choose whichever versions take your fancy, and then put them together as you would a shepherd's pie - first, a make a layer of lovely, juicy, spicy meat in the bottom of an ovenproof dish, and then pile your spicy potatoes on top so as to completely cover the meat.

Whack the whole lot in the oven at around 180C for 30 mins to heat through properly, and for the potatoes to become irresistibly browned and crispy on top.

At that point, resistance will be futile. Get it out of the oven...

... press your nose up against the glass to have a closer look...

... and then get stuck right in without further delay!

Will you ever make 'traditional' shepherd's pie again?

the easiest marmalade ever...

Having given you a recipe for bread in my last post, it occurred to me that perhaps you might like something to go with it.

And lo! - I have the answer. Following on in the spirit of an easy-peasy oatmeal loaf recipe, I bring you a recipe for what is most probably the easiest recipe marmalade you're ever likely to come across. There is NO COOKING involved, and it takes NO TIME at all. Better than that, though, it's also absolutely delicious - bursting with citrussy zest and fragrance. A real winter cheerer, and one that has gone down an absolute storm here and with friends and family, for whom I made a batch for Christmas. Even those who aren't usually mad keen on marmalade (I include myself here - I'm not fond of the bitter aftertaste that many marmalades leave) love this version.

One small confession. It's not actually 'my' recipe. Sorry to disappoint. Nope, it's by Darina Allen, she of the esteemed Ballymaloe cookery school in Cork, and author of the excellent Ballymaloe Cookery Course, from which this recipe comes.

I can't add to the recipe in any way - it's perfect as it is - and so I present it here in its entirety:

No-cook marmalade
Makes 8 x 350ml (12fl oz) jars

If you use organic fruit for this recipe, you will really notice the difference.*

5 oranges#, roughly chopped and discarding as many pips as possible
1 lemon, roughly chopped
1 grapefruit, roughly chopped
sugar, the combined weight of the above fruit, minus 110g

Put all the ingredients into a liquidiser and whizz together.** Then transfer to a sterilised jar and cover. This fresh-tasting marmalade will keep in the fridge for approximately 3 weeks.***

(aforkful notes: #or 3, if they're large oranges; *I made it with organic fruit, and can vouch for deliciousness. Haven't tried with non-organic; **How much you whizz it is obviously down to you and the texture you prefer. I like mine chunkyish; ***We've just opened our last jar, 4 weeks minus 2 days after it was made. Seems absolutely fine.)

And THAT. IS. IT.

Really. As simple as...

...1

...2

...3

I know some of you will already be elbow-deep in vats of Seville orange marmalade - but for those who aren't, and for those who are but would like to try something that can be made year-round and takes all of 5 minutes to make, I can't recommend this one more highly.

(For my next post, I promise I'll try to up the skill level. I'll attempt a full Cordon Bleu recipe, complete with four 2.5 turns, two backflips, and at a level of 9.75 degree difficulty. Perhaps.)

Irish oatmeal bread: don't wait for the snow

We Brits are hopeless, really. We spend much of the time moaning that we don't get proper winters any more, and then as soon as we do, we moan about that, too.

Still, there's no doubt that conditions have been, erm, a little challenging of late. I live in balmy south London, and even here, it's been difficult to get out for the past few days. Roads and pavements have been transformed into veritable ice rinks, and only now does the snow and ice seem finally to be melting away.

And wait - we'll moan about how everything looks dull and dreary again now it's not all covered in Narnian white... ;-)

Like many, the conditions outside have meant that I've been forced to resort to the freezer and the cupboards rather more than I would do usually, and I hit a particular crisis at the weekend when I ran out of bread.

Yikes! No bread??

And no bread flour or yeast, either. Hmmm. Or buttermilk. Or anything, really, that looked like it would help make some half-decent bread. Added to that was the slight dilemma that I'm a little intolerant to wheat, so I try to eat wheat-minimal bread if possible. Rye and spelt are my preferred alternatives - luckily for me, both flours make terrific bread. But on this occasion, I didn't have rye or spelt flour either.

Cue some frantic interwebby searching via that faithful friend, Google. And lo, shortly afterwards, I found an answer. Not the Holy Grail, perhaps, but certainly a potential worthy contender in the acceptable bread stakes.

Not that I wasn't a tad sceptical. American recipes with American measurements tend to do that to me. Although I have cup and tablespoon measures, I don't think they're greatly accurate to use in practice, and can sometimes be plain barking, especially for those of us in the UK. For instance, I recently came across a recipe which required 8 tablespoons of butter. I mean, really. The great oracle, Twitter, subsequently informed me that in the US, butter packs come with tablespoon measurements already marked on the wrapper. Well, that's great. In the UK, they don't.

Anyway, enough of that. The bread, people, the bread.

I read the recipe, read the reviews, and adjusted and tweaked to fit the ingredients I had. I shoved the dough in the tin, popped it in the oven, crossed my fingers, and left it to do whatever it was going to do. To say I wasn't overly hopeful would be putting it mildly.

Fifty minutes later, though, and I was preparing to eat humble pie. Or, to be more precise, warm, oaty bread. Because it worked. It worked brilliantly well. And moreover, it tasted great. If you've ever had soda bread, the taste and texture is much the same - which makes this oatmeal bread a complete winner for me since I happen to be a firm fan of soda stuff.

And the best thing? It's SO ridiculously quick and easy to make. The next best thing is that you don't need bread flour, yeast, or a bread maker. You need 2 bowls and a 2lb loaf tin or a baking sheet. And an oven, obviously. That's IT.

The recipe's here. I used SR flour + 0.5 tbsp of baking powder (and could have probably got away with using less, or even none). I used a very ordinary runny honey - it'd be easy to ring the changes with different varieties of honey. I forgot the salt (I'd recommend no more than a teaspoon, though, if you want to include it). I baked it for just over 50 minutes in all. It was that simple.

And I ate the lot.

And I won't be leaving it as an emergency recipe next time. This is going to be a regular in this household from now on.

where there's smoke, there's duck...

or New Year's resolution #1 - take up smoking

or how to smoke your duck and eat it

or 10 simple steps to smoking your duck

or...

ok, I'll just get on with it, shall I?

For a while now, I've been following @paulscooking on Twitter. More to the point, perhaps, I've been checking out the recipes on his website - an eclectic mix of British and Asian cooking, with some other randoms thrown in once in a while. Finally, some time in November, I got around to making his storming Tau Yew Bak (braised belly pork with star anise and soy sauce) which was an unqualified and utterly delicious success.

Shortly after that, I bought some duck legs. Good plan, you might think, except that I couldn't find a recipe that really tickled my feathers, despite the fact that I have eleventy million recipe books.

But wait! An embryo of an idea fluttered across my brain (mmm, maybe that image doesn't work too well after all). And then and there, I hatched a plan.

EMERGENCY TWEET TO PAUL! EMERGENCY TWEET TO PAUL!

And, like the good man he is, he came up with a quacker of a recipe for me. Smoked duck! Ah, of course, I said. Sichuan smoked duck. Of course. Erm, but I've never smoked anything in my life before. (Honest, Dad.) So, er, how?

Don't panic, said Paul. I'll email the details over to you. (It wasn't on his website at the time.)

And so he did. A few helpful other tweeters offered their top (wing) tips, in the meantime (copious quantities of silver foil being the standout one - thank you to all those concerned), and I was ready to fly.

This, my friends, is what happened next. Like I said up there ^^^, it's a case of how to smoke your duck in 10 easy steps. And they must be easy, because I managed it. Not only managed it, but managed not to (a) smoke the house out or (b) to burn it down, either. In my book, that's a success.

Here we go, then. First, marinade your duck legs:

Next, assemble your smoking ingredients. You can use any tea, but I think it's preferable to go with something that has a distinct flavour, such as Earl Grey or Lapsang Souchong. I opted for the former.

Then, construct your smoker. Line everything with foil - you don't want a ruined pan. You also need a rack or similar to go over the smoking ingredients. We don't have a rack of the right size, so I, er, cut out the wire mesh from one of those anti-splatter thingummyjigs. We never used it anyway. Worked a treat, like so.

By now, it's time to get the smoking things smoking. Light hob, place pan over, and wait for little *pfffft* sounds to emanate from said pan, and for smoke signals to appear.

Look! Look - over there! Over there, at the back, towards the right! SMOKE!

Inhale. Go on. The tea, spices, sugar, and bay leaves give off the most gorgeous (and somewhat addictive, I should add) sweet-scented fragrant aroma. Lovely stuff.

Shake yourself out of your aromatic reverie, and grab your duck legs, plunge them in boiling water very briefly, dry them off, and load them onto the rack. They might not look very appealing at the moment, but stick with it. They will do soon, honest.

To avert almost certain disaster to you and your pan, cover the pan with more foil, and then put the lid over that.

You're on your way. Now all you have to do is wait anywhere between about 30 and 50 minutes, depending on the size of the legs.

At some point, of course, you're going to find it hard to resist peeking (Peking?) at the duck to make sure all's going swimmingly.

OK, yep, think it's plenty smokey in there, ta.

*coughs*

Just don't do that stage too often, ok?

Before long, you'll have fully smoked (and thoroughly cooked, for those of you who might be wondering) duck legs, hot off the rack:

No, I know they don't look wildly different from the pic taken at the start. But they are smoked and cooked, I promise. All you need to do now is to inject (not literally) a little colour into them, and some crispiness to the skin.

For this, you need to take your life into your hands again if you don't have a deep-fat fryer. For those of you who do, well, you've got it easy.

Alternative to deep-fat fryer: find pan. Fill with some kind of vegetable oil (not groundnut). Heat until very hot. Plunge your legs in. NO! Not those! The DUCK legs. Not yours. Jeez.

... and let them bubble away until they're a lovely golden brown.

At that point, all you have to do is drain them ....

... and they're ready to serve! Paul suggests an accompanying sauce based largely on hoisin. All I'll say at this point is I think I picked the wrong brand, because it was far too overwhelming for the duck. Next time round, I'll ask Paul first.

What I can say is that the duck was lovely - a tad overcooked for my taste, so I'll smoke for a shorter time next time, but beautifully fragrant and gently full of the flavour of the tea and other aromatics. Definitely a winner, and a recipe to play with again and again with variations on the theme.

(Just make sure you have lots of foil, and an airtight seal. If you don't, prepare to get friendly with your local fire brigade.)

For the full recipe, check it out on Paul's website. And have a good look around while you're there - you're bound to find lots of other stuff to tempt you.

And Paul? I owe you one. Thank you! It was a quacker!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I would have liked to have ended this year on more of a bang, but this Christmas thing - it just takes over, really, doesn't it?

So, as usual, I'm running around like a headless turkey, trying to get last-minute shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning and tidying done while attempting to get into the ho-ho-ho mood at the same time.

It's working, but I think I probably need another sip of sherry. Or bottle. I forget which.

In the meantime, all bets on the blog are off for the moment - so have a great Christmas and a wonderful New Year, and I hope to see you back here again in 2010!

a few ideas for Christmas...

OK, first - disclosure time. All of the items that follow have been sent to me via the companies concerned. Having said that, noone's directly asked for a plug, but given that Christmas is hurtling towards us with the speed of something driven by Schumacher, now seems to be as good a time as any to do a little round-up.

So, just to whet your appetite, and as a little stocking filler, how about these cute packets of different varieties of teas (bags, by the way, in case loose tea frightens you) from the BelleVue Tea Lady?

Alternatively, of course, you could drink the tea while you're writing cards, wrapping presents, and putting up the Christmas decorations. In that case, you'll be needing something to go with the tea and to help keep you going. Preparing for Christmas is hunger-making stuff, after all. So perhaps consider having some festive cookies to nibble? These, made by the self-styled 'Biscuiteers', come in a dinky tin, and are available from Interflora:




I suppose you could always send them to someone you know, rather than keep them for yourself. But really, why would you? ;) Actually, they come very well packed, and the tin is plenty sturdy enough to resist the vagaries of Royal Mail, so if you know someone who has a sweet tooth and likes eating the hind legs off biscuity reindeer, then you might just have found the perfect present.

If sweet things aren't your, er, thing, then you might want to delve into the wonderful world of umami, the 'fifth' taste. It's not a particularly new concept, but it's novel enough to these shores, and it's what everyone's been talking about for the last few months. Foremost among those is Laura Santtini, who has both published a cookery book earlier this year - stuffed full of suggestions on how to give your food that 'magic' umami taste sensation - but has also launched a range of products (available from Selfridges) to make it that much quicker and easier for you to do so. The talk of Twitter in recent weeks has been her Taste No.5 Umami paste. I can vouch for this myself, too - I've used it in both a rabbit pie and a venison stew, with great results on both occasions. There's plenty more in the Santtini range, including the salacious-looking Carnal Sin rub. I haven't yet tried it, but I can report that it certainly smells promising, with lots of Eastern aromas to boot.


Try rubbing it into the turkey skin for something a little more exotic for your Christmas dinner...

Regular readers of this blog will know that chocolate tends to be a recurring theme. And that I'm a bit of a snob about it. I try not to be, but I'm afraid I just can't help myself. So I was a little sceptical when I was offered some Thornton's chocolate to try. Then again, I know they've been trying to up their game lately, and I was keen to see and taste the results. And you know what? They've won a whole host of awards for their new range of chocolate, so they're on their way. And better still, so far as Christmas is concerned, they've packaged them in a rather attractive fashion, too. Great for stocking-fillers again, or equally good for your own personal chocolate stash. I leave it to your conscience. (The one with pistachio is particularly good, though, so you might want to hang onto that one, at least.)


Flagging yet?

Hmm - me, too. Probably time to have a mince pie, then. I'm a bit partial to a good mince pie, and I'm quite fussy about them, too. Not all mince pies are created equal, after all. Happily, those sent to me via Abel and Cole, from the Authentic Bread Company, meet my requirements. The pastry is nice and short, and the mincemeat is pleasingly moist and uncloying. And I, for one, prefer my mince pies to be dusted with icing sugar rather than caster sugar, so they scored on that count as well. In fact, I defy you not to eat the whole box (of 6). If you don't, I will.




But then, just as you congratulate yourself on having got the presents sorted and having eaten your quota of mince pies, the front doorbell always goes at this time of year, doesn't it? Neighbours 'just popping round' to deliver cards, and all that malarkey. Aaargh.

Best to have something ready for them, then. For wine, I think I'm probably going to be stocking up on a very drinkable range of both whites and reds from the Australian award-winning vintner, McGuigan. But for food? A few goodies from Unearthed might do the job. Try the olives, cured meats, barrel-aged feta (my particular favourite, and great with in a pasta with chorizo, butternut squash, and sage), and panettone (always handy for making a quick pudding with, too, remember).


Right. There you go. Don't say I haven't tried. If you still haven't got any ideas for Christmas, don't come whining to me. I'm simply too busy munching my way through that lot ^^ to care any more.