Thought for Food

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Deeba - Pakistani Food in Munich

Should I bitch or should I shut up? Hmm... oh well, I guess blogs are not designed to shut up in (whether they are meant for bitching is open to debate), so here I go. I was going to keep you all posted on my culinary adventures in my former hometown of Munich, Germany, but my computer, Eircom and Deutsche Telekom threw a big spanner in the works. They just plain out refused to let me go online, no matter what I tried. Several phone calls to Telekom's support hotline only resulted in me teaching their incompetent technicians a thing or two about Windows - which says a lot about their knowledge (or lack thereof). The web remained as unreachable to me as the top shelf in my kitchen at home. I eventually gave up and resigned myself to having to pre-write my posts in word and then upload them in bulk from Dublin, which is not exactly what blogging should be all about. The solution came in the shape of a lovely certified computer technician who eventually pointed out that Eircom required special DNS settings, which might prevent my PC from finding the German server. Under his careful supervision, I messed about in the network options a bit and - lo! - there was the net. Thank you Lofty, your knowledge was impressive and your help much appreciated.
So now I'm back online and desperately trying to catch up with my older posts. Tonight I'll be cooking a restaurant-style dinner for my mum's birthday and I really wanted to be up to date before then, so I can post my recipes right away. I doubt that I'll reach that goal, because Munich is, in a way, a food lover's paradise. But I will simply start at the beginning, follow the yellow brick road and see where it leads me.
The beginning was spectacular in every way. For my first evening in Munich, my mum had booked a table at Deeba a Pakistani restaurant in Barer Strasse. We had been there several times and had never been disappointed, so I was more than happy to hear the news. Wednesday night was no different either. The atmosphere was formal yet relaxed, the staff were warm and welcoming without being intrusive or self-depreciating, and the food was simply wonderful. While we had a look at the menu, a refreshingly friendly waiter brought some complimentary Popadoms with pickles and chutneys and a side salad (the latter I felt was slightly out of context and very much out of season, but never mind). This was a great way to get into the mood of it all and to quell our initial hunger that would have otherwise led to us ordering about twice as much food as we needed. That threat was more real than it now seems to me from afar. The food on neighbouring tables looked and smelled so good, the dishes all sounded incredibly interesting and the menu was very well assembled - a small, but comprehensive selection of everything from Tandoori lamb to seafood Biryani. It was, I admit, nigh on impossible to make a decision and I see real potential for a set meal, a thali, a mixed plate or some such thing. But even without it, we eventually managed to make up our minds, and immediately learned of one more of Deeba's many advantages over other South Asian restaurants in Munich.
While I'm thinking of it, let me say a few words about said restaurants in general. Munich has a number of so-called "Indian" restaurants of all shapes and price categories. Some are good (a few - including Swagat at Prinzregentenplatz - are even what I would consider excellent), some are not what I would call value for money (such as Noor Jahan in Schwabing's Kaiserstrasse), but most are just average (such as India Town in Barerstrasse). Something many of them have in common is that they are not in fact Indian. They are either owned or run by Pakistanis or have a chef from Pakistan. Unfortunately, as one owner/manager once told me, the people of Munich harbour less than positive feelings towards Pakistan and are suspicious of the country's cuisine, if they acknowledge its existence at all. In their minds Pakistan is a source of nuclear bombs and Islamist terrorists, not food and drink. India on the other hand is associated with herbs and spices and a wealth of scents and flavours and is (rightly) considered to have a century-old culinary tradition. Accordingly, Indian restaurants, while seen as exotic, spicy or expensive by the general population, are normally viewed positively. Pakistani restaurants on the other hand have a hard time being accepted, despite the similarities between the two countries' cuisines (or rather between Pakistani and Northern Indian food, which are in fact closer than the cooking of Punjab and West Bengal). And because Pakistani restaurant owners are smarter than their potential customers, they simply relabelled their establishments "Indian" and indeed found the acceptance they could not otherwise get. While I fully understand this, I am glad to see that Deeba managed to resist this trend of self-denial and still be successful. I suppose the food speaks for itself.
Our meal started with mixed vegetable Pakoras, sliced onions, zucchini, aubergines and potatoes coated in a lightly spiced chickpea batter, deep fried and served with mint yoghurt sauce. The pakoras were lovely, tender, but not overcooked, crispy and not too greasy. Just the way I like them. The sauce was not bad either, but in my opinion it could have done with a bit more mint. I don't know if it's the more authentic way or a sauce adapted to German taste buds, but I am used to something more flavoursome from the Anglo-Saxon world. But if you do not like a strong minty taste with savoury foods (and many Germans don't, which is why they often ridicule the English for serving lamb with mint sauce, but still refuse to try it), the dip was perfect.
Which leads me back to the advantage I started talking about above and never mentioned while at the same time going forward to the main course. At Deeba, unlike at many other South Asian restaurants, you choose a dish by its flavours, not by the degree of spiciness. You can order a hot Korma if you feel like it (although the waiter will advise you that the chilli might kill the subtle flavour of the creamy sauce) or ask them to tone down one of their many spicy dishes. My mum opted for the latter option ordering sizzling chicken and vegetables with a mild sauce on the side. Please excuse this strange way of putting it, I must admit I simply forgot to ask her what the dish was called. What I do remember is that it was excellent. Tender chicken bits (some, much to my delight, dyed bright green) grilled to perfection, then mixed with crispy cabbage, onions and cucumber. A great combination of flavours and textures. This was complemented by a rich, creamy sauce - tomato based and heavily spiced, but by no means spicy - served on the side so you could get just the amount you want.
I went for something spicier: deliciously tender chunks of white fish in a fiery red sauce (see image above and to the right). It was heavily laden with spices, especially ginger and chilli, just right to make the tongue tingle and warm you up inside. My mum thought it was too much, but I disagree. Like many Europeans she cannot handle even mildly spicy food. I, on the other hand, do like my curries quite hot. Not like some of those young Britons who'll order a Phal just to impress their mates and pay for it from the moment they take the first bite to the moment the ring of fire has finally eased. To me, curry is about flavours, not about heat. If you can't taste it anymore, it was too spicy. But I do like it hot enough that when I'm done, I know I've had it. And by this - very subjective - measure, this dish was perfect. The flavours were strong enough to withstand the chilli assault, and to combine with the fish and the garlic Naan that I had on the side to make the perfect curry for my taste. Honestly, every bite was an experience. In fact, the whole evening was an experience. Unfortunately, after two courses I was much too full for a portion of Gulab Jamun and a cup of chai. But I have had both before and can highly recommend them. So, if you're ever in Munich and need a change from whatever food fad the local restaurants are going through at the time, give Deeba a go. You will not be disappointed.

Christine at 12:59 pm

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Tuesday, March 21, 2006

My Version of Chicken Cacciatore

It's been a while since you last heard from me. Even though this post is dated March 21st, I actually uploaded it today, on the 26th. This was not intentional, the will to post was there. Unfortunately, Ireland is not the only country on earth where things don't always work the way we expect them to and where customer service is an unknown concept. Much to my dismay, I found that Germany is not much different either. But before I lose myself in another rant, I must step back to last Sunday, the day I made the recipe this post is dedicated to.
I know it is against the nature of a blog to post in retrospect, but somehow I feel that this dish is worthy of being mentioned. It was easy to make, yet tasty. It was hearty and filling, yet light and far from overpowering. And it was refined in taste, yet the ingredients needed to prepare it are very cheap so anyone can afford to make it. It is, in short, the essence of why I started this blog: To bring good, easy and reasonably priced home-cooking up to restaurant level and make it accessible to a large audience. One of my friends once said: "Even my grandma could be a good chef if you gave her lobster and foie gras to experiment with. The art is in preparing a tasty dish from carrots and lentils." This art is what I am trying to practice and aspiring to teach, so here we go - chicken cacciatore prepared my way:

enough chicken pieces for 2 people (if you're a regular visitor, you will recognise my signature chicken legs, of which I tend to serve one per person, but as per usual, any part of the bird will do)
1 to 2 tbsp olive oil (depending on whether you are using bacon or not and on how much fat the bacon you are using releases)
2 bacon slices, chopped (optional; the sauce is milder without it, which can be nice at times, so go by your gut feeling. Vegetarians can replace the bacon with liquid smoke (it works, I did it for years) or smoked salt)
2 medium onions, halved and sliced into fine rings
4 plump garlic cloves, sliced
1½ tsp fresh oregano, chopped (alternatively, ¾ tsp dried)
1½ tsp fresh thyme, chopped (alternatively, ¾ tsp dried)
1 tsp fresh rosemary, chopped (alternatively, ½ tsp dried)
½ tsp fresh sage, chopped (alternatively, ¼ tsp dried)
a small handful dried porcini mushrooms, soaked in ¾ cup hot water (any flavoursome dried mushrooms will do here; for best results, pick and dry your own, you'll never go back to shop bought ones again)
½ cup full bodied red wine
½ cup chicken stock
1 can plum tomatoes with juice or 2 cups chopped fresh tomatoes (as much as I love fresh vegetables, if tomatoes are not in season, I recommend you stick with the cans. They are harvested ripe rather than green and canned right away rather than shipped half way across the globe. This obviously makes a difference to the taste.)
Salt and pepper to taste
(You could also add a number of vegetables to the sauce, such as celery, carrots, button mushrooms or bell peppers. I didn't because I was clearing out my fridge before the trip, so I simply didn't have any.)

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees. Heat the oil in an ovenproof pan over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook, stirring occasionally, until brown and crisp, about 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to paper towels and set aside.
Add the chicken to the pan, skin side down and brown lightly, about 5 minutes. Turn over and brown the other side. Transfer to a platter. Add the onion to the pan and sauté until tender and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and herbs and continue cooking for a further 2 minutes. (If you are using vegetables, they need to be added no as well.) Deglaze with the wine and bring to the boil. Add the mushrooms with their liquid, stock and tomatoes and return to the boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer for a few minutes to allow the flavours to mix. Stir in the bacon and lay the chicken pieces on top, skin side up.
Roast in the oven until the juices run clear when the chicken is pierced with a knife, about 40 minutes. The tomato sauce will darken slightly, don't worry, this is normal and affects the taste only positively.

Well, to say it with Bugs Bunny, that's all folks. All you have to do now is enjoy and I will return to the German reality around me and prepare my next - more current - post about my culinary experiences in Munich.

Christine at 9:33 pm

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Grilled Scallops with Garlic Butter

So, what is there to say about scallops? You heard in my last post that I was well chuffed to get them at an affordable price. But I'm not sure I expressed just how happy I was. I was very, very happy. I know, I've only recently cooked scallops, but when I bought them I was not thinking clearly and only got five for each of us. And that was definitely not enough. They were gone before we knew it and left us only wanting more. Much more.
Lofty and I both love scallops. We used to eat them quite regularly when were living in Los Angeles. - Hmm, maybe I should try to get my Blogger profile sorted out to reflect the many places I have called home... Yes, definitely a project for the near future. - But then we moved to Munich where they are virtually unaffordable for ordinary people. This is not surprising; the city is about as far away from the sea as you can get and therefore has never developed a tradition of cooking and eating seafood. I remember that, when I was a kid, it was quite common that people thought fish was so disgusting they did not even try it to see if they liked it. Over the years fish has become more popular, especially that bright orange, greasy crap that the Norwegians pile off on German Aldi customers as smoked salmon. But a certain air is still attached to what has become known as Edelfisch, which could be roughly translated as precious/noble fish. Cod, fresh tuna, hake and the like as well as shellfish fall into this category, which is associated with wealth, class and style. You will find people who eat oysters just to be seen doing it, hosts serving baked cod just to talk about how much they paid for it and others refusing to touch either for fear of being labelled a snob. It's really rather sad.
In any case, we did not eat scallops in Munich. Nor did we find any in Cape Town or Prague, where we lived during the following years. When we first came to Dublin we were delighted to see scallops back on the menus of even ordinary Chinese takeouts. I ordered them a few times, but obviously chopped up and served in a strongly flavoured sauce they do not taste the same as grilled freshly and served with nothing but a bit of garlic, lemon and some crusty bread. This was what we had been craving, this is what I saw before my inner eye when I was cleaning the scallops, and this is what I had in the back of my head when looking at and judging possible recipes. So you can imagine that it didn't take much deciding when I found a recipe in one of my cookbooks for exactly that: Grilled scallops in garlic butter.

For the scallops:
6 tbsp olive oil
20 big scallops (with or without roes, that is entirely up to you)
70 to 80 g good quality butter (avoid the mass-produced watery stuff and invest in a good bit of Irish butter, it's well worth it)
8 to 10 cloves of garlic (depending on the size and your preference), finely chopped
salt to taste
lemon wedges to serve
To serve:
4 handfuls of baby spinach
a pinch of salt
4 slices of ciabatta or baguette
olive oil for brushing the bread

Preheat a grill or griddle pan. Brush the bread with a coat of olive oil and toast in the oven or pan until golden brown and crunchy, about 3 to 4 minutes.
Cook the spinach in a large saucepan over medium low heat. Do not add anything, except maybe a drop of water if the spinach appears to be drying out rather than cooking. Normally, the water left on the leaves after washing is enough to steam the spinach. Gently cook the spinach in its own juice until collapsed and tender, about 3 to 4 minutes.
In the meantime, heat the olive oil in two shallow frying pans (use two unless you've got a huge one; the scallops need a bit of space or they will steam rather than fry) until it begins to sizzle. Season the scallops with salt and quickly add them to the oil. Be careful, they may splash. Do not move them for at least a minute, during which time they will form a nice, sticky crust on the underside. Turn the scallops and continue frying until the other side has browned and they are cooked just through, about 2 minutes. Remove from the pan and set aside in a warm place.
Add the butter to the pans. (Obviously, you don't need to do this in two pans anymore, but I preferred to, just to make sure I deglazed the yummy juices the scallops had released.) It should melt immediately. When it begins to foam, add the garlic. Swirl the mixture around the pan to deglaze the brown crust at the bottom and briefly cook the garlic.
Arrange the spinach in the middle of two plates, top with the scallops and drizzle with garlic butter. Serve with the toasted bread and lemon wedges.

Just in case you wondered why I am suddenly using a cookbook to guide me through such a simple procedure as grilling scallops, let me explain. Although I had cooked them before, I felt quite insecure doing them as a stand-alone dinner. Several websites had warned that it is easy to overcook them, in which case they go tough. I didn't want to mess up a dinner that I had hyped up in my head and thus spoil the whole day (as I said, my moods change easily). So decided to rely on the expertise of an experienced chef to make the perfect dinner. This choice proved to be good. The most important thing with this recipe is the temperature. Get the pans nice and hot so the scallops brown quickly with out overcooking. And make sure they have room to let the water evaporate. If you follow these two rules, you can't really go wrong.

Christine at 9:28 pm

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Monday, March 20, 2006

Open Ravioli with Smoked Salmon and Creamy Pesto

I had a bad day on Saturday... Or did I? No, really, it was a brilliant day... Or was it? Well, in fact, it was both horrible and wonderful. I suppose Lofty is right when he says that I'm too easily influenced by external factors. My mood does tend to change like the weather, from bright sunny smiles to furious thunderstorms. And Saturday was a good case in point. The morning really sucked. I got kicked out of the poker tourney after a few hands, but decided not to use the time I gained for anything productive, such as food shopping. I am going to Germany on Wednesday and Lofty prefers not to have a full fridge to cope with all on his own. There more choice there is, the likelier it is that he will just have a sandwich. At first, I thought of going out and getting some prezzies for my friends. But then I noticed the bad weather and decided that going out would not be a good idea. Instead, I sat at home feeling miserable.
My mood changed around lunchtime. I don't know if it was because the poker was going all right or if I enjoyed the poker because I was finally lightening up, but the two definitely coincided. After the tourney - in which I incidentally came nowhere despite my good mood - I made some sandwiches and finally convinced myself that it was worth braving the rain just to check out Meath Street. And boy was I right! Our fishmonger had beautiful scallops in their shells at a price I shouldn't talk about lest you all go down there and snap up my bargains. But I'll give you a clue: I bought 10 each for Lofty and me and did not bankrupt myself. I got a few other bits and pieces, but nothing really worth mentioning. As I said, I'm going to Germany on Wednesday, so there is no point in filling up the fridge.
I was going to go down to the market as well, but after having survived my wrestle against housewives out to buy 2 packs of sausages for €1 (guess how much meat's in them...) and mad grannies with shopping trolleys the size of the fish shop, I was overcome by a sudden outburst of laziness and headed home instead. But the damage had been done, I had been inspired to dive head first into food. I spent an hour just cleaning and photographing the scallops and actually had a smile on my face the whole time. I was glad to scrub the algae off the shells to reveal the hundreds of shades of pink underneath. I was happy to run my fingers through the wobbly membrane to unpack the sweet, cream coloured morsels underneath. And I was laughing every time I came across a handful of mud and sand. In short, I was well and truly happy.
The next few hours were occupied by an extensive Internet and recipe search. Where do scallops come from? How should they be treated? Who eats them? What can you cook with them? And, obviously, what should I do with them? I found out that scallops are related to oysters, come in a variety of sizes and colours, and are harvested and eaten all over the world. I also found out that they should never be stored in water, because they absorb it and lose flavour that way. They should be washed briefly, dried quickly and stored under a damp cloth to prevent drying out. It took me a little longer to decide on a recipe, but I eventually settled on something simple, yet flavoursome: Scallops in garlic butter on a bed of steamed spinach.
So why is this post titled salmon ravioli? I was afraid that 10 scallops and a handful of spinach may not suffice as a dinner and searched the fridge for something to turn into a starter. I came across an opened pack of smoked salmon, a bit of cream and a lot of vegetables. This is how the ravioli idea was born. And this is how it was put to reality:

1 tbsp olive oil
¼ onion, finely chopped
1 small clove of garlic, finely chopped
1 small carrot, finely chopped
100 ml single cream
1 tbsp fresh basil pesto
½ tbsp butter
2 small handfuls of fresh spinach
2 slices of smoked salmon
1 lasagne sheet, cut in half (obviously fresh pasta is nicer here, but dried will work just as well)
½ tomato, de-seeded and finely diced
freshly ground Parmesan and a few basil leaves to serve

First, heat the oil in a shallow frying pan over medium low heat. Fry the onions until translucent. Add the garlic and carrot and cook until soft, about 3 minutes. Add the cream and continue to cook until thickened. Stir in the pesto and set aside.
Blanch the pasta in a pan of boiling salted water. While the pasta is cooking, melt the butter in a saucepan and sauté the spinach until tender.
Place one of the halved sheets of pasta in the centre of a plate. Put a pile of spinach on top followed by the rolled up salmon.
Drizzle the sauce around the edge together with the tomatoes. Grate some Parmesan over the dish and top with the basil leaves.

In my humble opinion (and, much to my delight, in Lofty's as well) this starter was so nice, it seemed to be worthy of its own post. So you will have to wait for the scallop musings and the accompanying recipe until the next post.

Christine at 8:50 pm

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Sunday, March 19, 2006

Pizza and Ice Cream

Ah, St. Patrick's Day - the day Ireland celebrates the death of a Welshman. Or are they celebrating his attempt to bring religion, civilisation or some such concept to their island? Surely not... Whatever it used to be, today it is the day an entire nation dresses up in green and gets drunk. And the day I had to brave rain, hale and winds that nearly brought my bike to a standstill to get to work. Yes, we were one of the few companies in Ireland that didn't close up for this highest of holidays. I was not unhappy to work. In fact, I like working on public holidays. The traffic is bearable, the office is nice and quiet and the canteen is closed, which means that for once, I didn't have to smell the awful stench of boiled dog food that normally permeates the hallways at lunchtime. In all, I had a good day. Very relaxed, albeit entirely un-memorable (would that be the same as forgettable?). No parade, no party, nothing.
I admit, after fighting my way home through bad weather, crowds of drunken youngsters and groups of over-zealous Gardai, I was also too relaxed (read: lazy) to cook. I wanted to veg out in front of the telly with some junk food in one hand and some sweets in the other. But I wouldn't be myself if I were to just order expensive but nasty takeout. Instead, I made some pizza (you'll find my recipe here), a veggie one for me and a meat lovers for Lofty. Then we put on a movie and the real relaxing began. Desert was a tub of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream. What more can you want from a Friday night at home?

Christine at 10:17 pm

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Spaghetti al Salmone

Spaghetti al Salmone? What's with the Italian title? I don't know. Somehow, it just slipped out. I was in the middle of writing "Spaghetti with Smoked Salmon Cream Sauce" when it hit me. I am not trying to imitate Jamie Oliver by going all Italian and I am not trying to be trendy or show off with the use of a foreign language (well, none other than English that is). In fact, why is it that totally ordinary things suddenly become something special when we give them a foreign name? Posh restaurants have an à la carte menu, which really comes down to a menu's menu. They serve a soupe du jour or pommes purées where you and I would just have a soup of the day and mashed potatoes and in the afternoon you could have a cappuccino and a tarte au citron. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of these language purists who feel that any one tongue is being poisoned by others and in need of special preservation. Some foreign words are more than needed to denote concepts that don't exist outside their language - such as espresso, curry or chocolate. I think I would feel very strange ordering a spicy Indian stew followed by a short, strong Italian coffee and a sweet made from the beans of the cocoa tree.
What annoys me are people who use foreign languages where they are not needed in an attempt to appear cool, educated or knowledgeable. Germans in general, and the people of my native Munich in particular, are masters at that. They disliked the term Mobiltelefon, so they called it a "Handy". Einkaufen is way too uncool, too, modern women go "Shopping". And forget about ever finding a Kaffeehaus again; they are a thing of the past. Depending on whether your self-image is that of a bourgeois student, a chic wannabe Paris Hilton or a young trendsetter, you now have a choice of Café, a Caffè or a Coffee Bar.
It used to drive me mad that, when I went for a coffee with my mum, I always had to fight my way through the jungle of mispronounced Anglicisms before emerging at the other end with a totally ordinary cup of filter coffee with milk. My mum always wants what the menu calls a "Tall Low-Fat Latte". The first time I went into one of those, I tried to order just that (along with a white Mocha for myself), but was met by blank stares from the bloke with the expensive hair due on the other side of the counter. "A what?" he asked totally puzzled. So I translated the whole lot into German - which works out roughly as a "large espresso with lotsa low-fat milk and a coffee with milk and a shot of white chocolate syrup". This time he understood, but visibly disapproved. "Ach so," he corrected me, "ein tahl Lo-Fett Latte und ein Vait Mokka!" Ouch.
So why am I doing the same tonight? I think the reason is my intense feeling of disgust with the Northern European winter. I felt like dreaming of a southern summer. And this, I suppose, answers the question I asked above. People use language to express their inner self and, in some cases, to help them become what they are not. My mum is no more a trendy IT lawyer from San Francisco than I am an Italian chef. But sometimes it makes us feel good to pretend we are. In case you want to join in, here's a foolproof recipe that will impress even the most avid spotter of wannabes. So go on, be what I wannabe!

enough pasta for 2 people (I recommend long, thin noodles such as spaghetti, vermicelli or fettuccini), cooked, drained and set aside
2 tbsp olive oil
1 shallot, finely chopped (alternatively ½ mild onion)
1 garlic clove, chopped
50 ml white wine
100 ml fish stock
75 ml double cream
2 big handfuls of baby spinach, washed and drained well
100 g smoked salmon, sliced into strips if you like, but I prefer to leave the slices whole to give you something to chew on
salt and pepper to taste
freshly grated Parmesan and, if you like, some chopped parsley or spring onion rings to serve.

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium low heat. Add the shallot/onion and garlic and sauté for three minutes, until the onion has softened. Turn up the heat to medium.
Deglaze with the wine and bring to the boil. Cook until the liquist has almost completely evaporated. Now add the stock and again boil until it is reduced substantially. Reduce the heat again, add the cream and continue to simmer for about 5 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened slightly and the flavours have mixed.
Add the spinach and pasta and heat through.
Serve with freshly grated Parmesan and chopped parsley or spring onion rings.

Christine at 1:46 pm

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Saturday, March 18, 2006

Roast Winter Vegetables

Winter seems endless this year. Just as we thought spring was about to arrive it turned cold again. After a few days of sunshine the trees and bushes were beginning to sprout and the daffodils had come out. And then the weather turned again, the rain and slush and nastiness returned and it was as if the flowerbeds had never been there. I find that even more depressing than if the sun had never come out at all. I finally dared to hope that I would no longer have to fight the elements twice a day, freeze in my own living room every evening and eat root vegetables and cabbage almost every night.
I admit the latter was more a hope than an expectation. Jenny had told me on Saturday that they had had ground frost and many of her young plants looked less than healthy after that. This obviously did not include the greens and roots, because our fridge was still full of them. So, despite having eaten what might broadly be classified as 'proper dinners' for weeks now, we decided to have another roast for dinner tonight. In order to give the old dish a bit of a new twist, I roasted the vegetables alongside the chicken tonight. This gives them a sweet, sticky crust on the outside while making the inside go soft and tender. The result was another heart-warming dinner that made us forget about the rain and the cold for a few hours.

For the chicken and sauce:
2 chicken legs or breasts on the bone (or, obviously, as much of the kind of chicken as you think you will need for 2 people)
2 tbsp olive oil
a few springs of thyme
a few springs of rosemary
2 to 3 small bay leaves
¼ lemon, cut into wedges
½ glass white wine
200 ml chicken stock
salt and pepper to taste
For the roast potatoes:
8 to 10 small floury potatoes, scrubbed and cleaned of imperfections, but unpeeled
1½ tbsp goose or duck fat
For the roast vegetables:
1 large carrot, cut into large chunks
10 to 12 mushrooms
½ onion, peeled and cut into wedges
4 garlic cloves, unpeeled and lightly crushed
(These are, as usual, mere suggestions that were dictated by my fridge. Other vegetables that can be used for roasting are pumpkin, butternut squash, sweet potato, parsnips, swede and beetroot, or, for a mediterranean, summery touch, bell peppers, tomatoes, aubergines and zucchini)

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius. Remove any excess fat from the chicken. Brush the skin with olive oil and put the chicken pieces on a large baking tray (large enough to hold the meat, potatoes and vegetables). Place in the hot oven and roast for 10 minutes.
In the meantime, boil the potatoes for about 5 to 8 minutes until they are just starting to go tender. Drain and leave open to allow the steam to escape. Lightly crush the potatoes to break the skin, but not damage the spud. I first tried to use a masher, but the potatoes were just too dainty and fell apart at the lightest touch (or did I maybe push too hard?), so I've switched to lightly scoring the spin and then gently pushing down on the potato with the tips of my fingers. Return to the saucepan, add the duck/goose fat and cover with a lid. When the fat has melted, stir well to coat all potatoes.
Remove the chicken from the oven and reduce the heat to 180 degrees. Add the potatoes along with any excess fat to the pan, and allow to rest. Arrange the harder vegetables (carrots, pumpkin, parsnips, swede, beetroots, celeriac and the like) around the chicken, toss to coat with fat and tuck in the thyme, rosemary and
bay leaves as well as the lemon. Return the pan to the oven.
After about 20 minutes, baste the chicken, turn the vegetables over and add the remaining, softer vegetables (garlic, onion, peppers, aubergines, zucchini and the like). Again toss to coat with fat, then return to the oven for another 30 minutes. If you are serving anything else with dinner, now is the time to prepare it. As you can see from the picture, I didn't have many roastable vegetables left, so I also steamed some black kale.
When the chicken is cooked through, the potatoes are golden and the vegetables are soft, remove them from the pan and set aside to rest in a warm place. To make the sauce, put the roasting tray on the stove over medium high heat. When the fat begins to sizzle, deglaze with the wine. Then add the stock, then pour the whole lot off into a small saucepan. Boil, swirling occasionally, for 5 to 6 minutes until thickened and reduced. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Christine at 10:56 pm

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Friday, March 17, 2006

Vegetable Lasagna

I've got a new project going at work, which consists of compiling endless lists of websites on different topics. I thought I knew a fair bit about the Internet and quite a lot about life, but before I started this, I was only marginally aware of the large number of sick idiots out there. The amount of websites dedicated to declaring the supremacy of certain people (more often than not what they call "the white race" whatever that is meant to be), to degrading the weak (mostly women and children), to getting people to worship gods by parting with large chunks of money or to instructing others on breaking any and every law ever written is astounding. And it dwarfs that of websites that aim to achieve the opposite. I am all for freedom of speech, so please don't take this to mean that I want these sites to be taken offline. I just don't understand what's going on in the minds of the people who compile them. Or rather, I'm not sure they even have any minds at all. In fact, I'm fairly sure that they were hiding when god distributed brains among his newest creation.
Needless to say, after having spent the day in the virtual presence of such scum, I was not in as good a mood as I like to be when I come home. I managed to rid myself of some anger in traffic, not the safest place to do it, but it had to come out somewhere. I can hardly phone up some stupid American wannabe Nazi and call him names over the phone. But the weirdest ones are probably the Russian Hitler worshippers. As a colleague of mine who is part Russian pointed out: Do they really think that their idol would have felt any different about them than about the rest of their countrymen? Definitely not, which to me is proof enough that one of the prerequisite to becoming a Nazi (neo or otherwise) is lack of brains.
"So what has any of this got to do with food?" I hear you ask. To which I can only reply: "Absolutely nothing." But it has a something to do with the dinner I made tonight. It created the framework for my evening mood, which in turn has a direct influence on the food I cook.

For the tomato sauce:
1 tbsp olive oil
1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
enough vegetables to make up a chunky sauce (mushrooms, zucchini, aubergines, spinach, leeks, carrots and bell peppers all work well), cleaned and sliced
2 tsp fresh oregano, chopped (or 1 tsp dried)
2 tsp fresh thyme, chopped (or 1 tsp dried)
100 ml red wine
1 can of chopped tomatoes
1 tbsp tomato purée
½ tbsp sugar
salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the Béchamel sauce:
1½ tbsp butter
1½ tbsp flour
375 ml milk
salt and pepper to taste
For the lasagne:
4 to 5 lasagne plates
1½ tbsp fresh basil pesto
1 buffalo mozzarella, thinly sliced (alternatively as much grated cheese as you like)

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Bring water to the boil in a large saucepan. Add a good pinch of salt, then add the lasagne plates. Cook, boiling rapidly, until tender. Drain and set aside (in a single layer to prevent sticking).
In another large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Gently fry the chopped onion until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the vegetables and fry for a few minutes until softened. Add the oregano and thyme and deglaze with the wine. Bring to the boil. Now add the tomatoes, tomato purée and sugar. Bring to the boil again and cook, uncovered, for 30 to 40 minutes, to give the flavours a chance to blend and to soften the vegetables. Then season to taste with salt and pepper.
Meanwhile prepare the Béchamel sauce. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly for 2 to 3 minutes. Then pour in the milk. Stir well, then bring to the boil. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes over a gentle heat, until thickened. Add more milk if the sauce appears too gooey.
Lightly grease a small ovenproof dish. Cover the bottom with a layer of Béchamel sauce followed by lasagne plates and another layer of Béchamel sauce. Finally, put in a layer of vegetable sauce. Repeat these layers ending with a layer of cream sauce. Stir in the pesto and cover with the cheese. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, by which time the cheese should be bubbling and golden.

I suppose you could buy either of the sauces to turn this into a quick, easy to assemble dish. You could use Bolognese instead of the vegetable sauce to make the dish more substantial. And, obviously, you could serve it with a side salad, in which case this recipe is enough for up to four people. Or you could double the quantites and feed a whole family. Lasagne is also great when you've got company, because you can pre-prepare and assemble it before they arrive and stick it in the oven while you attend to your guests. But whatever you do, always remember that lasagne needs to be made with love. If you put you heart into it, lasagne somehow has the ability to make you feel ... how shall I put it? ... at home, on holiday and surrounded by friends and family, all at once. In short, it can be the ultimate comfort food.

Christine at 9:58 pm

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Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Spaghetti wih Dublin Bay Prawns

We had great plans for Sunday: Tidy up, hoover, do the laundry, go for a wander around town and buy all these useful things one always puts off shopping for, pop into the pub for the Irish music session and on the way home pop into the video store to pick up a few DVDs to go with the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream I got on Monday. If this sounds like a tall order to you, imagine how we felt. We were so overwhelmed, after the first load of laundry was in the machine, we basically resigned ourselves to doing nothing more than surfing the Internet, playing poker and, in my case, cooking dinner. I suppose we are what could be loosely defined as lazy gits; if there isn't a good reason to go out, we don't.
We didn't always used to be like that. In Cape Town and Prague we used to go to the movies at least once a week, take walks around the town, and go to restaurants quite often. We even had friends to meet up with for meals and long talks about everything and anything. But here in Dublin, all this is gone. The movies are expensive and the cinema a longish walk away. Restaurants are even more expensive and not the sort of places that you can spend a whole evening in without being expected to drink yourself into a delirium and into bankruptcy. And most people we have met here are very sweet, but do not know the continental habit of meeting in someone's place for dinner and a chat. Friends often go to the pub together. But like restaurants, they are quite pricey and are not what in German is termed gemütlich (which means comfortable, relaxing, great for taking it easy and a whole bunch of other English expressions rolled into one) and, what I find most off-putting, they are noisy as buggery. Loud music, loud talk, the loud banging of glasses and the occasional television all make for quite some background noise, and if I go out with friends, it's because I want to have a chat with them, not because I fancy screaming at someone over an overpriced beverage.
Strangely enough, we still haven't been able to convince any of our friends to just come round to our place if they don't want us in their living rooms. I suppose the old habit of going out on the weekend is hard to break, even if you're tempted with the prospect of a nice dinner. And tonight dinner was quite nice. As I mentioned yesterday, I had bought a pound and a half of Dublin Bay Prawns (also known as Langoustines) that really wanted to be used up tonight. The fresher they are the better. We had no avocados in the house, so prawn cocktail was out of the question. There would have been too much anyway, but it did briefly cross my mind. To be honest, though, I had no clue what to do. It was way too cold for a salad and I didn't have any nice bread (or bread baking ingredients) to just cook them in garlic butter and serve them tapas style. I did have a packet of fresh spaghetti left in the fridge, though. So I had a look around the Internet and came across a number of inspiring recipes that I combined to make spaghetti with creamy Dublin Bay prawn sauce.

For the sauce:
½ tbsp butter
1 shallot, finely chopped
1 small clove of garlic, finely chopped
1 tbsp tomato puree
1 portion of prawn stock (see recipe below)
100 ml double cream
1 tbsp olive oil
1½ pounds of Dublin Bay prawns (weighed in their shells, but without the heads), peeled and de-veined
2 large handfuls of sprouting broccoli, roughly chopped, or broccoli florets (baby spinach works equally well here)
salt and pepper to taste
For the prawn stock:
3 tbsp olive oil
the shells from 1½ pounds of Dublin Bay prawns(weighed in their shells, but without the heads)
1 small carrot, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
1 celery stick, chopped
1 small leek, chopped
1 clove garlic, peeled and sliced
1 fresh tomato, chopped
1 tsp rum (the original recipe called for Cognac, which is probably more appropriate; rum is not out of place here, but I encourage you to decide for yourself)
100 ml dry white wine
250 ml fish stock
250 ml cold water
1 sprig tarragon
1 sprig basil
1 sprig thyme
½ bay leaf
To serve:
enough spaghetti for 2 people
Parmesan shavings
2 spring onions, chopped

To make the stock, heat the oil in a large saucepan and sauté the prawn shells for 5 minutes until pink. Remove the shells and add the vegetables. Sauté these until golden brown, about 8 to 10 minutes, then return the heads. Stir well.
Deglaze with the rum (or Cognac), then add the wine and cook until reduced by half. Add the stock, water and remaining ingredients and bring to the boil. Simmer until reduced by half, about 20 minutes. Strain through a muslin lined sieve and set aside.
For the sauce, melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium low heat. Gently fry the shallots until translucent, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic, stir briefly, then add the tomato puree. Leave to cook for about a minute, then add the prawn stock. Turn up the heat to medium and bring to the boil. Leave to simmer until reduced by about a third. Puree. Return to the pan over low heat and add the cream. Allow to heat through, but do not bring back to the boil.
Bring a large saucepan full of water to the boil. Add a generous pinch of salt followed by the spaghetti. Cook according to the package instructions, 3 minutes for fresh pasta or very thin dried spaghettini, up to 12 minutes for all other pasta. Meanwhile, blanch the broccoli (but not the spinach, if using) in boiling salt water until just starting to go tender, about 3 to 4 minutes (slightly longer for ordinary broccoli florets). Drain the broccoli and the pasta thoroughly (do not rinse!), toss together in the big pan (if you are using spinach, add it now), and cover with a lid.
Heat the olive oil in a shallow frying pan over medium high heat. When it is quite hot, add the prawns and fry until lightly browned, about 5 to 7 minutes. If your prawns release a lot of liquid, it might be an idea to pour that off to prevent them from boiling rather than frying and to reduce cooking time. Do not overcook, they can go quite chewy.
While the prawns are cooking, divide the pasta between two plates, pour the sauce all over (alternatively, just pour the sauce into the saucepan with the pasta, then dish up; this way you can be sure that the pasta is evenly coated), top with the prawns and decorate with fresh Parmesan shavings and spring onion rings. You can grind some black pepper over the top if you like. Serve immediately.

Christine at 10:31 pm

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Tuesday, March 14, 2006

More Rain, More Bangers & Mash

I can no longer fool myself, shopping in March is incredibly depressing. The weather tends to be bad enough to make bicycling an unpleasant experience, the vegetables at the market are the same every week and my creativity is at an all-time low. So why bother shopping for nice ingredients if I can't think of any inspiring dinners to cook from them?
It was thoughts like this that led me to decide not to shop at all this Saturday. I could just use up the leftovers from the fridge, add a few bits 'n' pieces from the freezer and the cupboard and maybe get a few little luxuries at Marks & Spencer on Grafton Street on Sunday. I was planning on going to the city centre tomorrow anyway and any excuse is a good excuse for checking out this brilliant food hall.
Just in case you wondered, this is the nicest Marks & Spencer food hall that I know in Dublin. I tend to avoid the one in the Jervis Centre. I hate to be a snob there, but to put it mildly, you can tell that the area is not as wealthy as Grafton Street. I normally like to be more blunt, though. In my opinion, the glubs around there are so bad, I might as well stay in my part of the woods. There are more polyester tracksuits on Mary/Henry Street than you could fit in Foot Locker's Flagship store in London and more bad language than on the Internet. Sadly, this is reflected in the state of the Marks & Spencer in Jervis Centre. People put stuff down anywhere but the shelves it's supposed to go on (and there isn't enough staff to tidy up after them), they leave their shopping trolleys wherever they are finished with them, preferably in the tightest isles (I suppose, I should be happy that they haven't adopted the habit of Crumliners to steel them and throw them in the river, which led to the local Tesco asking a €5 deposit), you often have to dodge overloaded housewives and kids running around in the shop, and the cashier to shopper ratio is appalling. In short, a visit there is an unpleasant experience.
But I'm drifting off into a rant again. I should stay focussed on the positive things in life. I did quite well in the poker tournament on Saturday morning. - Another excuse for staying in. I also finally got round to tidying up the sweets cupboard, where much to my excitement I found a whole stollen. And I found, that there was more space left in there than I would have thought. Maybe I should pop up to Meath Street and see what I can do about that? The temptation eventually proved to big to resist and I decided to brave the icy wind and go shopping. And once I was on my bike - yes, you guessed it - I felt magically attracted by that trecherous square that is Temple Bar market. The possibility of scoring some fresh vegetables to replace the ageing stuff in the fridge seemed very real all of the sudden.
Unfortunately, I was fairly late again and Jenny was nearly sold out. I got the usual leaves and roots and a little present for my friends in Germany (which I will talk about next week when I have handed it over, because it looked yummy enough to be worth a mention, but I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise). I also bought some garlic and white wine sausages and some Chorizo from a butcher. The fish man was all sold out and Dennis' things looked no different than what's on offer at my local greengrocer. From an environmental point of view, I don't see the point in buying organic Spanish tomatoes and South African pears rather than not-officially-declared-organic Irish cauliflower and onions. It might be better for my health, but mainly it's better for someone's bank account.
So I kept my money and ran - straight to Meath Street. I got a few more bits at the veggie shop, a bashed-up box of Hoola Hoops (a steal for €3) and one and a half pounds of Dublin Bay prawns from the fishmonger (for another €3, an even bigger steel). Then, juggling bags and boxes, I cycled back home. Just in time to avoid the rain.
We spent the afternoon indoors. It was too cold and wet to go out and we still had tomorrow to explore the city. Dinner was the usual bad weather fare - bangers and mash. In case you were wondering why were are eating sausages so often, it's got nothing to do with me being German, but with the fact that we were starved of good bangers for so long and are now making up for it. Despite their reputation, neither Germany nor the Czech Republic provided us with the sausage selection Lofty was used to from the UK. They might have a long tradition of eating sausages, but as so often in Germany, they lack choice. There is no such thing as pork & leek, tomato or sage and onion sausage, and beef, lamb or game sausages are only available in specialty butchers, which are very rare. You will always get sausages in Germany, but they will generally be variations of the basic Bratwurst or different kinds of hot dogs. There are a few regional specialties, such as the Bavarian Weisswurst that is eaten boiled rather than fried, but that still does not add up to variety. At first we thought that the situation was not much better here in Ireland. But we were soon to be shown the truth. There might not be much of a sausage culture at the butcher's shops in our area, but the likes of Temple Bar Market and Liston's provide plenty of choice, from Beef to Wild Boar and everything in between.
But where was I? Oh, yes, sausages. The garlic sausages were lovely and fresh, so why not have them tonight? I made a light garlic and white wine gravy to go with them and, to add a German touch, two kinds of cabbage. A nice, warm ending to a cold day.

Christine at 10:33 pm

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Monday, March 13, 2006

Finally: Stew

The end of the week is near, I'm tired and the fridge is looking decidedly empty - apart from the big pot of stew/casserole sitting on the bottom shelf that is. I really didn't fancy doing anything with that, so, for the first half of the evening, I tried to ignore it and just focus on the poker, read a few recipes, write some e-mails... But then, by about 7 p.m. reality caught up with me. We had to eat something tonight. I suppose, it had to be the stew. I added some fried onions, red wine, chopped tomatoes and a few more herbs and spices, fried up some bacon and grated some gruyère cheese over the top. It still was less than perfect, especially from the point of view of aesthetics, but it was certainly sufficient for a weekday night. And I would now see the dish's potential. We could have had a pretty nice dinner on Monday if I had paid attention to what I was doing. If you still trust me with casseroles, this is how I would have done it from scratch had I been in charge of the recipe:

50 g pearl barley, washed and cooked for about 30 minutes until almost tender (do not overcook)
2 tbsp olive oil
4 slices of pancetta or rashers of good quality streaky bacon, chopped
2 onions, halved and sliced into fine rings
2 large cloves garlic, halved lengthways and finely sliced
1 large carrot, diced (not too finely, but don't leave the chunks as big as in the picture above)
1 small leek, washed and sliced into rings
½ celery stick, finely chopped
100 ml full bodied red wine
150 ml good quality chicken stock
1 can chopped tomatoes (should you be preparing this dish in the summer, substitute for 3 large or 4 small fresh tomatoes, skinned (if you want) and chopped and increase the amount of stock to 200 ml)
possibly 1 to 2 tbsp light brown sugar
2 springs of thyme, chopped
1 spring of rosemary, chopped
a few sage leaves, chopped
1 spring of tarragon, chopped
2 bay leaves
a good dash of Worcestershire sauce
3 medium potatoes, cooked and thickly sliced
salt and pepper to taste
chopped parsley and grated Parmesan to serve

Heat the oil in a large, ovenproof saucepan over medium heat. Fry the bacon until crispy. Set aside leaving the fat behind in the pan.
Now add the onions and cook, stirring occasionally until they are a deep golden brown. This should take about 10 to 15 minutes. Be careful not to burn them; reduce the heat if necessary. Remove the onions and set aside. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius.
Turn the heat back up to medium and add the garlic, carrots, leek and celery and fry until they are starting to colour, about 3 to 4 minutes. Add the herbs and return the onions to the pan. Stir well, then add the wine. Bring to the boil and add the tomatoes and stock. Heat to a slow boil and leave to simmer for about 5 minutes to allow the flavours to mix. Add the barley, bacon and Worcester sauce. Add the brown sugar if the dish seems too sour. Season to taste with salt and pepper and remove from the heat.
Lay the potato slices across the top and bake in the middle of the oven until the potatoes are brown and crispy, about 20 minutes. Baste with a bit of olive oil if they appear dry.
To serve, put the casserole/stew in a bowl and sprinkle liberally with chopped parsley and freshly grated Parmesan.

Hmm... this actually sounds quite good. I'm going to have to try it next time the weather is cold and bad.

Christine at 10:26 pm

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Another Night without Stew

On Tuesday, I was invited to a colleague's place for dinner (which consisted of tortellini with a sauce of Philadelphia cheese, Asian vegetables and tomato paste, so I'll spare you the recipe). We went straight there from work, so there was no time to cook for Lofty. He was really supposed to reheat Monday's stew, but when I got home I found that he had stuck to eating his favourite - 'stuff'.
This meant that dinner on Wednesday was already set: Finally get on and eat that stew. So, I did as I had been told in the recipe. Stick the stew in a hot oven and leave it to bake, uncovered, until the potatoes are brown. In the meantime, I fried up some of the sausages we had leftover from Lofty's stuff-munching. Arranged in a bowl with the stew, they looked very nice. Unfortunately, when it comes to food, looks are far less than half the ticket. The taste and texture have to be right as well, and in this case both were so far off the mark I began to wonder about my ability to cook. Instead of a rich, flavoursome stew, I had prepared an overly greasy, slightly gooey soup with little flavour besides that of the bay leaves I had used to make the stock and totally overcooked vegetables floating around like tired divers in an oil spill. It was an entirely unpleasant experience. We each managed to eat about three spoonfuls before we gave up.
So, the stew had left us with another dinner-less night. Again, I went through the series of emotions I had experienced two days before: First I panicked, then I despaired, then I got angry, and then I got on with it. We had the sausages, which was definitely a good start. The fridge further revealed a handful of sprouting broccoli and some spinach leaves. Perfect for steaming with some chopped garlic. All we needed now was some gravy and dinner was perfect. I decided that we needed something with strong flavours and bright colours to make up for the shock of blandness and dullness we had just experienced. Brown sausages, green vegetables... how about red wine gravy? Looks all right, doesn't it? And here's how you get there:

For the sausages:
enough sausages for 2 people (any sort will work here, the wine sauce goes equally well with poultry, pork, beef or game)
2 to 3 tbsp oil for frying
For the vegetables:
1½ handfuls of sprouting broccoli, washed, trimmed and any woody bits of stem removed (alternatively, use broccoli florets)
2 handfuls of baby spinach, washed and picked over
1 tbsp olive oil or butter
1 large clove of garlic (or 2 small ones), finely chopped
salt to taste
For the gravy:
1 red onion, sliced into fine rings (yellow onions will do, but obviously the colour of the gravy is nicer if you use the red variety)
2 tbsp butter
1 tbsp flour (if you like thick gravy; if you prefer it runny, leave out the flour)
100 ml full-bodied red wine (make sure not to go for anything too dry, unless you want to risk that your gravy might turn out sour)
100 ml water
enough chicken stock granules for 200 ml liquid
if you want, you can add a bit of thyme, but I preferred clean, crisp flavours that night
salt and pepper to taste

For the gravy, melt the butter in a small saucepan. Do this over medium low heat if you have all the time in the world. If you are in a hurry, as I was, use medium heat, but make sure not to burn the butter. When it begins bubbling, add the onions and fry until tender. Over low heat this will take 10 to 15 minutes, over high heat you will be done in 8 to 10 minutes. If you take your time, don't stir too often to let the onions caramelise gently. If the heat is on, stirring is essential to prevent burning.
If you like a thick gravy, once the onions are soft, add the flour and continue frying over for another minute or two. Then add the liquids. Bring to the boil, then add the stock granules and thyme, if you are using any. Reduce the heat and allow to simmer gently for 2 to 5 minutes if you are in a hurry, 5 to 10 if not. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
While the onions for the gravy are cooking, heat the oil for the sausages in a shallow frying pan over medium low heat. Fry the sausages until brown on the outside and cooked through, about 8 to 10 minutes for the small variety (pictured) and 15 to 20 minutes for thicker ones.
For the vegetables, heat the oil/butter in a wok or deep pan over medium heat. Add the garlic and fry, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Do not allow to brown. Add the broccoli and continue frying for a minute. Then turn the heat down to medium low and add a few spoonfuls of water. Leave the broccoli to steam for 4 to 5 minutes. Now add the spinach and cook alongside the broccoli until it has collapsed and is beginning to go tender. Stir well and season to taste with salt.

Well, that's another evening that I only just saved. But believe you me, I will not let the stew win. I will tackle it tomorrow.

Christine at 7:23 pm

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Sunday, March 12, 2006

Spaghetti with Vegetable Carbonara

The rain seemed unstoppable again today. Big drops of icy cold water were pounding my face on the way home from work. When I finally got home, I was so happy to be there, I forgot to be angry about anything at all. But I was also cold and wet, so sitting in a cold living room did not seem like the nicest of prospects. I headed straight off to the kitchen (which is really just the back wall of the living room, but does get a lot warmer than the rest of the room from the heat of the stove).
Again, we felt like having a winter warmer for dinner, a stew or a thick soup perhaps. Looking through my cookbooks, I found a recipe for a clear broth with pearl barley and vegetables, prepared a bit like a casserole, boiled first and then topped with a layer of potatoes and baked in the oven. That sounded like just the kiddie for an evening like this, so I got right on it. I chopped the vegetables and put the barley on. In the meantime I signed up for the free evening poker tournament thinking that dinner was going to virtually cook itself tonight. As I should learn the hard way, this was a big mistake. I was doing better than I had anticipated and accordingly the game attracted more of my attention than was good for the stew. I didn't read the recipe from start to finish and when I finally got to the point where it says, "put in the preheated oven and bake for an hour and a half" it was 7:30. Great. Dinner at 9 o'clock? I don't think so!
First I panicked, then I despaired, then I cursed, and then I got on with it. I put the stew in the oven anyway, we can always eat it tomorrow. But what to cook as a replacement? I had my groceries delivered Today, so we were not short of ingredients. The biggest problem was time. After a quick look around the fridge, it was clear that I had to fall back on what in my opinion is the perfect fast food: pasta. I had some fresh egg noodles delivered and still had plenty of vegetables from my visit to the market on Saturday. I also found two eggs that had been in the fridge for almost two weeks and a few rashers of streaky bacon. Sounds like a perfect list of ingredients for spaghetti carbonara, doesn't it?

1 tbsp olive oil
2 to 3 rashers smoked bacon or pancetta, diced
2 handfuls of mushrooms, thinly sliced
½ leek, cleaned and sliced
1 large handful of sprouting broccoli (alternatively use broccoli florets)
1 large garlic clove, finely chopped
enough pasta for 2 people
2 medium eggs
70 ml single cream
2 tbsp Parmesan cheese, freshly grated
1 Oxo cube (alternatively salt and pepper to taste)

Heat the olive oil in a large shallow pan over medium high heat. Fry the bacon until crisp. Remove from the pan, leaving the fat behind. Set the bacon to one side and leave to cool.
Add the mushrooms, leek and garlic to the bacon fat and fry until tender. Blanch the broccoli in boiling water for about 4 minutes, drain and add to the pan. Stir to mix well and turn off the heat.
In a large saucepan, cook the pasta according to the packet instructions.
In a bowl, mix the eggs, single cream and Parmesan. Once combined, add the cooked bacon and Oxo cube.
Drain the cooked spaghetti, return to the pan and immediately pour in the fried vegetables followed by the carbonara sauce.
Toss to coat and allow the egg to 'set' slightly. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Christine at 4:15 pm

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Cumberland Sausages

The weather has turned again. The rain is back with a vengeance and I'm back to cycling wrapped in a bright yellow, full body rain suit. Right sexy that is. I arrived at the office this morning with wringing wet hair and covered in black gunk off the roads. I think I've complained about this before, but it never ceases to amaze me just how filthy this city is. Why do they allow cars on the road that drip more oil and petrol than they use? Why are their busses in a worse condition than most private cars and tend to spit their muck out all over the cycle paths? And why do the drivers think it's funny to shower you with muddy puddle water at every opportunity? And why are unlicensed drivers allowed on the road in such dangerous conditions? In fact, why does no one adjust their driving to the conditions? Questions over questions...and none of them will ever be answered. I actually don't think that I'm looking for answers. I stopped seeking logic (or at least what I would define a logic) in Ireland a long time ago. But the bitching at least made me feel slightly better about the thought that my freshly washed hair looked like I'd been swimming a tad too close to the Exxon Valdez oil spill. So, after a good rant, I sank back in my chair, and started work.
Or rather, I started the day. My morning ritual includes a trip to the canteen to stare aimlessly at the dried out bacon and sausages under the hot lamp until someone wakes me up to ask what the hell I'm doing there. I then proceed to stare at the baked goods and occasionally even walk away with an almond or chocolate croissant. On a good day, they really aren't bad, especially if you consider that they are the pre-baked kind that is shipped all over the city before being stuck back under the hot lamp. On a bad day, however, they are totally dried out and strongly taste of bacon, because some of my less considerate colleagues tend to mix the tongs. There's a decidedly "I'm all right Jack" kind of attitude going in this country. Out of despair with this state of affairs, I've started bringing my own breakfast in to work. But sometimes I just fancy a nice croissant in the morning and the canteen is still miles better than any of the places I can reach from work. But more and more often, I remind myself of the taste of bacon and chocolate and simply walk away. Something I never skip, though, is filling my company branded thermo cup, which looks decidedly like a monster dildo, with a latte with an extra shot of espresso. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned filter coffee in a mug? I've been told that the former never existed in Ireland and the latter were outlawed in the building because my employer is worried about carpet cleaning bills (and health and safety as they claim slightly less convincingly). Then I head back to my desk, and plonk down in front of the screen, coffee in one hand, cereal bar in the other. And there I stay, interrupted only by the breakfast and lunch breaks, until it is time to face the traffic again.
When I come home after a day like this poor Lofty normally has to bear the brunt of my frustration. Instead of a hello he gets a long speech about the advantages of living in the dry, warm parts of Southern Africa. And rather than asking him how his day was, I enquire how he manages not to turn psychotic in these conditions. But after a few minutes in his soothing presence I generally calm down and - quite literally - get on with dinner.
On days like this I need soothing, warming food that makes me feel at home. Our fist choice for this kind of mood is always bangers and mash. There is something very comforting about grilled sausages - sticky and gooey on the outside and piping hot and meaty inside - smothered in thick onion gravy and draped on a big mound of buttery mashed potatoes. Sausages are one of the things I really missed while I was not eating meat. I'm still not a big fan of beef or game sausages and can cope with pork only in small quantities, but chicken bangers are simply divine. Anyone who tries to tell me that Quorn sausages are just as good has either never tried them or is very good at fooling themselves. They will do fine in a hot dog bun with lots of ketchup and mustard, sticky grilled onions and maybe a few pickles, but definitely not with my mashed potatoes. I'd rather stick with mash and veg. This was my choice today: Lots of buttered Brussel tops and heaps of fried button mushrooms. I have run out of chicken sausages again and could not find any more on the weekend. Instead, I bought three big, juicy Cumberland sausages for Lofty. Don't they look lovely?
To get there, cook up some buttered Brussel tops, slice about 300 g of button mushrooms and fry them in a shallow pan in some oil until brown and tender, about 10 to 12 minutes. Most importantly, though, you need to make the bangers and mash. Obviously, I recommend you follow my recipe. However, rather than using thin, finely ground sausages (which, by the way, tend to be of lower quality anyway) as I did last time, get some thick, coarse Cumberland sausages and cook them in a shallow frying pan over medium low heat for 20 to 30 minutes. This will prevent the skin from splitting and releasing all the lovely juices prematurely while getting the outside nicely caramelised and sticky.
I cannot stress often enough just how important it is to stick to good quality sausages. Apart from the taste, there are hygiene and pride issues that keep me away from ordinary supermarket sausages. Maybe this little excerpt from Sausagelinks, a brilliant website that can teach all of us a thing or two about making, buying, cooking and storing sausages and has a handy list of trustworthy outlets in the UK and Ireland. Their health and legal FAQ states that

The minimum meat content of a pork sausage is only 42%. The equivalent figures for most other sausages are around 30%. These figures are low but they are the legal minimum and most producers will use more meat.

The definition of meat is based on new regulations which came into force in 2003. Broadly, pork can contain up to 30% fat and 25% connective tissue and still be described as meat. Beef and lamb meat can contain up to 25% fat and 25% connective tissue.

Mechanically Recovered Meat (known as MMR) can no longer be described as meat. The same goes for organs such as the heart and tongue. They can still be used but have to be described separately on the label and do not count towards the minimum meat content.

The minimum meat content of a burger is much higher at 67% (or 50% for economy burgers).

These figures mean that a pork sausage can contain less than 30% lean meat!

This is a shocking figure. However we should remember that the vast majority of sausages are made by reputable producers who will use far more meat than the legal minimum. What these figures do is highlight the poor quality and value of some of the 'economy' products and the importance of understanding exactly what you are buying…

For a list of all possible additives from soya to E numbers, follow the FAQ link above. Now do you understand why I would rather pay a little more for Hicks or Caherberg sausages than save a few quid and end up with something that contains as little as 15% meat?

Christine at 12:02 am

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Thursday, March 09, 2006

Grilled Tuna on a Lazy Day

Sunday was a nicely lazy and uneventful day. It's strange, the more boring others would find a day, the more I enjoy it. Some colleagues had invited me to watch the six nations rugby, and a friend wanted Lofty and me to join him for a music session at his local pub, but we decided that the best thing one can do on a Sunday afternoon is to stay at home, soak up the sun in the living room, surf the net and play some poker. Sad, isn't it? Or is it? I suppose, if it makes us happy, it can't really be bad.
I am happy because I have more time to cook, read cookbooks and add to this blog, all things that I greatly enjoy. I must admit, I'm even mildly happy that Irish lack of reliability has forced us to sleep on the living room sofa for a week now. And just in case you're wondering who or what I am complaining about now, here's a brief explanation:
At the beginning of January, the building two doors down from ours caught fire. I don't know exactly how it all started; rumour has it that careless builders are to blame. What I know for certain, though, is that between us and them stood an old carpet warehouse, which quickly went up in flames. In all, it took six fire engines several hours to put it out. In the process, they not only wrecked the paint and carpeting in the hallway of our building, but also broke down our door (did they not believe Lofty when he told them that the place was empty?), destroyed the hinges on the bedroom window, so we could no longer close it, and knocked holes in the roof through which they proceeded to flood our living room in a miscalculated attempt to save the roof next door. So there we were, in the middle of cold, wet January with a window that could not be shut, a lounge full of pots and pans to catch the falling rain and a front door that my little nephew could have kicked in had he wanted to steal our telly. Luckily, most of the problems are sorted out by now; they fixed the roof, painted our flat and changed the door. The window was prised shut, so now we can't open it anymore, but at least temperatures stay slightly above freezing in the bedroom now. We were also supposed to have had a new carpet by now, but the
bloke is taking his time. It will probably be about two weeks he told us about two weeks ago. I personally don't expect to hear back from him for at least a fortnight. "So what's that got to do with sleeping in the living room?" I hear you ask. It does in so far as the builder told us that he wanted to lay the carpets throughout the whole apartment in one day and that we should think of what to do with the furniture. (I'm thinking hard, but so far short of burning it I have not come up with any ideas...) In the meantime, Argos finally picked up that busted old bed, so we at least have one less thing to worry about. But this means not replacing it until the carpet man has been in. And so we are sleeping on our sofa bed in the living room until the bloke decides that the two weeks are up.
This also means that I get to wake up in a sunny room if the sun is out when I wake up. The bedroom faces north and therefore sees hardly any sunlight, which is all right during the week, but not so nice on the weekend. And then there is the small matter of the busted window hinge and the polar temperatures it causes. So all in all, sleeping in our bedroom is an utterly unpleasant affair at the moment. I'm so sick of the cold. When will spring finally come our way? If the weather report is to be believed, it will be a few weeks yet -- an entirely depressing outlook.
I try to cheer myself up by serving more summer foods for dinner. We start with the tuna steaks I bought yesterday, lightly grilled to just heat through, and served on a bed of stir-fried vegetables with a lime and ginger sauce. Desert is a light lemon cheesecake from Glenilen Farm, a small producer of high quality dairy products in West Cork. The latter could probably have been a bit richer. As Lofty said, it's not bad, but it lacks substance. But there were no complaints about the former. The tuna and veg was exactly what we needed - a fresh, citrus taste that made us dream of a warm spring night in South East Asia.

2 tuna steaks, at least 200 g each (obviously, you could use many other kinds of fish here)
a mixture of vegetables suitable for stir frying, julienned (I used onions, carrots, shitake mushrooms, red pepper, sugar snaps and bean sprouts)
1 large clove of garlic, finely chopped
a piece of ginger the size of a small walnut, grated (alternatively some powdered ginger)
½ lime, juice only
1 tbsp light brown or Demerera sugar
1 to 2 tbsp light soy sauce
1 to 1½ tbsp sesame seeds
Sunflower oil for frying
lime wedges and spring onion rings to serve

Blanch any harder vegetables, such as broccoli and cauliflower, in boiling water until they are starting to go tender. Drain and refresh under cold water. Drain well and set aside.
Heat about 2 tablespoons of oil in a wok or large frying pan over medium high heat. Add the garlic and ginger and fry for a minute until fragrant. Do not allow them to brown. Add the vegetables in order of crunchiness. In my case, the carrots came first, followed by the mushrooms, peppers, onions and sugar peas. The bean sprouts came last; they only take about a minute to cook.
In a second, shallow frying pan, heat some more oil over relatively high heat. When it is almost smoking, add the tuna steaks and fry them without moving for a minute or two, depending on the thickness. You want them to go slightly brown and sticky on the underside, but not cook them too well inside. Turn them over and finish off the other side. In the meantime, add the remaining ingredients to the vegetables and allow to heat through. Arrange the vegetables on two plates and put the tuna on top. Serve immediately with a few lime wedges on the side and some spring onions scattered over the top.

Christine at 9:48 pm

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Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Carpaccio of Smoked Cod with Tomato Salsa

When we woke up on Saturday morning the sun was shining through the window, gently caressing our faces with a summery warmth I had almost forgot existed. It instantly put me in a good mood. In fact, under the present circumstances, I could not imagine a better morning - lazing in the sun listening to Rick Wakeman on Planet Rock. Perfect.
Unfortunately, my morning poker game was anything but perfect. I was kicked out of the competition after a mere 5 minutes. But on a day like this nothing could bring me down. Besides, the good thing about my early exit from the tournament was quite apparent: Food shopping could be done while the shops and market stalls were still well stocked and not too busy.
My first stop was the fishmonger on Meath Street who had some very nice looking (and as I know very tasty) monkfish. I know we've only recently had monkfish, but when opportunity comes knocking, I just have to answer. I also stocked up on organic yoghurt and some fresh tortellini with sun-dried tomato and goat cheese filling. Then I headed on to Temple Bar market.
Despite the sunshine, spring is still a few weeks away and Jenny's vegetables reflected that. Her stall was stocked largely with the usual suspects - kale, spinach, cabbage, beetroots, carrots, turnips, spuds... Much to Lofty's delight, I also scored a nice big portion of purple sprouting broccoli - this season's first harvest I was told (yes, all of it). Apart from that, I bought a big bagful of greens and roots. Although I complained last week that I was sick of getting the same vegetables week in week out, once I'm there and see the stuff on offer, I don't really mind it that much. The alternative is Dennis who, apart from a few very nice bits and pieces, is currently selling such things as under-ripe strawberries and ageing imported asparagus. Why would I want that? Jenny's vegetables might be samey, but they are always fresh, taste lovely and can be used for a wide variety of dishes. So, if you're an inventive cook, your dinners will never be samey.
Especially if you stop by the fishmonger as well. If don't buy anything on Meath Street that can not be kept in the fridge for a day or two, I make a point of checking out the fish stall in the market. If you go early, it is always well stocked, and the man is very friendly and knowledgeable. And what's even more important, he sells wonderful fish at a good price. Don't get me wrong, he's by no means cheap, but would you really want to eat cheap fish? No, me neither. I bought two tuna steaks, cut freshly in front of my eyes, deep red in colour and glowing (don't worry, not in a shiny way) in the morning sun. The two together came to €6 - a very reasonable price in my opinion. A colleague of mine is a regular customer at Lidl, a shop which I despise for its social and environmental policies, not to mention the assault it mounted on everything I hold dear in food. There, she pays nearly as much for frozen tuna steaks from god-knows-where, caught god-knows-how and probably un-cookable by my standards. The most important thing about fresh tuna is not to overcook it. It wants to have that lovely sticky, brown crust on the outside, but it definitely needs to be pink on the inside. Frozen tuna is brown before you start cooking it and tends to go dry and flaky when cooked. You might as well go for tinned.
But back to the good fish. The stuff on offer was so nice, I could not get myself to walk away with just one dinner's worth. The gentleman in front of me had bought a filet that had caught my eye - cream coloured, fairly firm and slightly shiny. It turned out to be locally caught, undyed smoked cod, which he enthusiastically advertised as great for eating raw. That was all the persuasion I needed. Lofty and I are both great fans of the subtle flavour of raw fish, but have so far stayed away from it here in Dublin for lack of a reliable, affordable source.
But no longer. Dinner tonight was set - carpaccio of smoked cod. But what to serve on the side? I wanted something that would add flavour to the dish, but did not risk overpowering the fish. How about a few crisp lettuce leaves, briefly fried in hot, frothy butter and a generous helping of tomato salsa? The sunshine must have got to me; this dish is totally out of season! It should be eaten on a warm August night, accompanied by a glass of crisp white wine, by people sitting on a balcony, watching the sunset. Unfortunately, it is March and the temperatures have just dropped below freezing again. We rarely drink wine, especially not at home, and our flat is fairly cold and sorely lacking a balcony. Our current situation calls for soups and stews rather than carpaccio. But I really craved the latter. I solved the dilemma by serving a shop-bought crab and lobster bisque as a starter, which I had jazzed-up with a few spices and a bit of cream.

For the carpaccio:
400 g very fresh, sushi quality smoked cod (make sure that your fishmonger understands how you want to use the fish; it's not enough for it to be fresh, it has to be expertly gutted on the boat to prevent any contamination and should really come from clean waters)
For the lettuce:
1/2 small head of crispy lettuce, such as baby gem or Monet lettuce (make sure not to pick any strongly flavoured varieties, such as chicory, or small, volatile leaves, such as rocket)
1 tbsp butter
For the salsa:
1 tomato, diced
½ onion, diced
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
½ lime, juiced
1 tbsp olive oil
chopped coriander if you feel that salsa is incomplete without it and are sure that it won't kill the flavour of the fish
salt and pepper to taste

For the salsa, combine all ingredients in a bowl, stir well, season to taste with salt and pepper and set aside for at least ½ hour to let the flavours mix.
In the meantime, using a very sharp knife, cut the fish into thin slices. Remember, the sharper the knife, the easier the task. And the thinner the slices, the nicer the result.
Finally, when you're ready to dish up, melt the butter in a large shallow frying pan over medium high heat. When it is beginning to go frothy, add the lettuce and fry, keeping the leaves in constant motion, until they are just beginning to cook, about 1 minute. They will not be hot, just slightly warm and buttery. Do not allow them to wilt!
Put the lettuce in the middle of a plate, arrange the fish on top and drizzle the salsa on or around it. Serve with grilled ciabatta slices or freshly baked baguette.

Christine at 10:01 pm

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Risotto Verde with Watercress Pesto

Finally, on Friday, the sun came out again. After weeks of bad weather, we had a whole day of bright, beautiful sunshine. The air was crisp and cold, but that didn't matter. From inside our heated office the world looked warm and welcoming. So where once there was roast chicken and stew, I now detected cravings for springtime food. In my mental colour chart, I replaced brown and yellow tones with green and red. I was ready for a bit of living again. These sentiments were clearly reflected in our dinner that night: Risotto with mixed greens and watercress pesto topped with freshly cooked beetroot. And you know what was the best thing about it? You barely have to do anything to prepare it. Perfect for a Friday night!

For the risotto:
1 portion of Christine's basic risotto
all sorts of greens (such as Brussel tops, baby kale, spinach, mustard greens or anything else that's green, in season and to your liking), 2 handfuls in total
2 tbsp butter
For the pesto:
1 large bunch of watercress
a handful of pine nuts or almonds, crushed
90 g Parmesan, grated (alternatively, you can use Parmesan style cheddar or aged Gouda)
85 ml olive oil
salt to taste
To serve:
1 cooked baby beetroot
Parmesan shavings
Freshly ground pepper

Prepare the risotto according to the instructions, but don't add the cheese yet. In the meantime, melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium low heat. Add the greens and cook slowly for about 2 minutes until the greens have collapsed. Remove from the heat and set aside.
Now prepare the pesto. In a mini blender, puree the watercress with the oil. Add the crushed nuts and blend again. Finally, stir in the grated cheese and season with salt if needed (normally it shouldn't).
To serve, stir the greens and the cheese into the risotto and allow to heat through. Divide between 2 plates and top with the pesto. Cut the beetroot into quarters and arrange two bits on each of the plates. Add Parmesan shavings and freshly ground pepper to your liking.

Christine at 1:41 pm

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Monday, March 06, 2006

Chicken Roulades with Truffles

I've just realised that we've had a bit of a chicken overdose over the last few weeks. I'm sure this is mostly due to the cold, wet weather. If the sun refuses to come out for days on end and the moisture penetrates everything, there's nothing like a good roast to warm you up in the evening. However, the constant lemon and herb roast was starting to get a bit samey, so I let myself be inspired by an absolutely fabulous dish I had in January at Gordon Ramsay's restaurant in London and opted for mushroom gravy and truffles. But I wanted to do more than make a bad copy of Ramsay's truly wonderful creation. For a change, I felt inspired to experiment again. The result was a filleted chicken leg, stuffed with onion, garlic, wild mushrooms and Speck Alto Adige (a lightly peppered, smoked bacon from the Alto Adige region of Italy), lightly whipped mashed potatoes, wild mushroom and onion gravy and buttered baby kale. As I've cooked all other elements before, I will only give you the recipe for the chicken here. Just a few tips, though: The kale wants to be lightly cooked in butter, a bit like the Brussel tops not long ago. Omit the vinegar or wine I mentioned in my other kale recipe. You want a more subtle flavour here. Also, make sure not to overcook it. For the gravy, follow my recipe for onion gravy and add some wild mushrooms - preferable fresh ones, but dried porcini will do in a pinch - after the onions are cooked. Allow them to stew in the butter for 2 to 3 minutes before adding the flour. Then proceed as indicated in the recipe. Also, as you will have the two leg bones left from this recipe, I suggest you make your own chicken stock for the gravy. The difference in flavour is incredible. But let's get on with the chicken.

2 chicken legs, bones removed
4 to 6 thin slices of Speck (alternatively, use Parma or Serrano ham or a lightly smoked bacon with little fat on it)
¼ onions, cut into thin slices
2 small garlic cloves, julienned
1 ½ tbsp dried porcini mushrooms, chopped
a few springs of fresh thyme

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius. Lay the chicken legs out, skin side down, on a plate or chopping board. Arrange the other ingredients evenly across the middle, starting with the Speck. Roll the chicken up and tie them into loose parcels. You can also pin them together with some toothpicks. Transfer them, skin side up, to a shallow baking dish and put them in the oven. After about 15 minutes, reduce the heat to 180 degrees Celsius, and baste the chicken with the fat that has dripped out. Return to the oven for a further 35 minutes. Baste once or twice during that time. Turn the heat back up to 200 degrees and continue to roast until the skin is crisp and golden, about 10 minutes.
Remove the chicken from the pan and allow to rest in a warm place. Pour the fat off the juices and deglaze the pan with a few drops of white wine or water. Add the juices to the gravy, stir briefly and serve with freshly sliced truffles or wild mushrooms, fried briefly in olive oil.

Christine at 9:32 pm

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