It is the last day of November and, although I have already been listening to carols (choir oblige…) and thinking about cakes and mince pies, I have yet to buy one present. But, since all the food books of 2011 lists are starting to appear, here for example and here, I thought I’d throw my twopennorth into the stocking on the subject. Continue reading
If celeriac is the Cinderella of the vegetable world, then Ottolenghi is surely the fairy godmother. Having just received a copy of his most recent cookery book, I am yet again completely inspired by recipe after recipe that turn mundanities into marvels. Beautiful vegetables, like asparagus and fennel, are easy; they are as gorgeous raw as they are cooked. But it takes a bit of magic to think up new ways with cabbage, parsnips and Jerusalem artichokes. And what I always find astonishing is that, unlike most cookbooks, his are rammed with truly new, not derivative, ideas. Continue reading
There are very few things in life that are truly free. And, of those very few things, there are even fewer that are both free and fabulous. The Sweet Paul magazine is one of those rarities. Donna Hay-esque in its beauty, practicality and sheer-overflowing-with-creativity-ness the great advantage of this, as compared to the one produced by the queen of Aussie food minimalism, is that you don’t have to shell out any pence to enjoy it. Well, as long as you have access to an internet connection and a computer you won’t. Continue reading
Quiche? Quiche you ask? Have I gone mad and slipped back in time to the days when olive oil was something kept in the medicine cabinet, pork belly was the bit you threw away and lentils were only for the hairy, unwashed people at university? Well, no, I’m still very much a lentil girl (Puy, naturellement) but as I flicked through The Good Cook by Simon Hopkinson this morning I came across his recipe for quiche Lorraine and realised that a) it was really easy and b) I had all the ingredients. And, since there is nothing in this world more likely to make me cook something than having everything in the house, I decided to try it.
This weekend, in Le Villaret, my friend Jerry chose a better main course than me (don’t you hate it when that happens?): rabbit cooked with sage, rose garlic confit and braised chicory. It was so good that it put my (stunningly over-peppered) venison to shame. I don’t really like chicory raw but, once braised in butter and with something salty like cheese or ham, it becomes a completely other entity. I first experienced it, both cooked and raw, in France where it is often served wrapped in ham then baked in a cheese sauce. Bloody gorgeous but a cheese sauce, as well as forty minutes of baking, is a bit of a faff midweek. As soon as I got back I started hunting for an equivalent with fewer steps. And there it was in Ottolenghi: chicory braised in some sugar and butter, topped with a quick mix of cheese, cream, breadcrumbs and thyme then finished off, of course, with some ham. Quick, yum and pretty low on ingredients for Ottolenghi. Continue reading
Aha, I have been introduced to good coffee in Paris. It’s served in a tiny shop, with hardly any room, and it’s mad cheap (about 2€, compared to about 4€ in the big cafés). Wonderful. And next door is something even better: tiny, buttery pains au chocolat and croissants that are so dainty and delicious that it seems rude not to have two, or maybe even three. Put them on your list: Terres de Cafés et Pain de Sucre, rue Rambuteau in the Marais.
I am off to Paris. Now, in many people’s eyes, Paris is home to some of the greatest food and restaurants in the world but, these days, I think it’s less impressive than it once was. Whereas as a teenager and twenty-something, I reverently brought back bread, coffee, chocolate and a bottle of, frankly, substandard red wine (how was I supposed to know that only winos and foreigners bought their tipple in a supermarket?), these days I can get the same, and a lot better, in most supermarkets in Britain. It is rare that I break my back with a heap of Lindt ces jours-ci. However, having said all that, there are certain things that only France, or Paris, can provide. Here are my favourites.
Fast food has such a bad rap but there are some fast foods that are a lot more worthwhile than others. Some are not really food at all (anything in a cardboard box that has been warmed up in a microwave whilst you buy petrol for example…) and some, well some are so wonderful I’m not sure why I don’t eat them all the time. Mussels, for example; mussels are one of the fastest and easiest things in the world to prepare and so inexpensive and good for you as well. Right now we are in a ‘month with an ‘r”, i.e. November so we should be eating this brilliant, cheap and in season fast food by the shovelful. I just did by buying, prepping and devouring, erm, a kilo of the things in less than an hour; my excuse is that I didn’t have any lunch and since everything else was already in my fridge this was as cheap as it was good. The classic alcohol to use is white wine, as in moules marinières, but since I had a half-bottle of flat cider that needed using up I used that instead. Gorgeous and simple enough to be eaten often, not just on special occasions. Continue reading
Thrift is very much on my mind at the moment. I suppose it has been on everyone’s mind for a few years but right now, as the world’s 8th largest economy (can you believe that? I couldn’t) edges nearer to the fate of Iceland, Ireland and Greece, I am a little fearful of what it might mean closer to home. Only three years ago I spent a frantic morning extracting most of the money I was saving for a flat from an Icelandic bank account and, although I was lucky and got it all back, it has made me very aware of the thin line between what seems like external and distant news and the reality of my own life. If Italy goes bankrupt, or France (not possible? read para 4 of this, which predicted three years ago the events we see around us now, and see how possible it might be) there is unlikely to be any sort of line at all. We will all be (and, yes, I am getting to the point at last) trying to survive. I couldn’t help thinking about all of this when, having made a tart with a rather monstrous celeriac (2kg, 60cm in circumference…see below) I realised that I still had enough left to make, if I wished, another seven of the same tarts, or several litres of soup, or some mash. All for the initial cost of £1.49. Root vegetables, it seems to me, are especially brilliant if you need to keep your costs down. Continue reading
Today is Remembrance Day but I won’t be thinking of World War I or II, or of service personnel lost and still serving. I will be thinking of my Dad who died nine years ago. He wasn’t really into food, mainly because he’d lost his sense of smell and therefore couldn’t taste much. But he still loved anything with a buzz: Thai curries and Mexican food were his favourites because heat and spice defeated his neurons. We used to go to a pub in Cambridgeshire that served the most enormous burritos and, whereas in most instances he had a small appetite, he would happily devour two of them whilst we looked on in awe. Six months after he died, on what would have been his 60th birthday, we met there to raise a glass to him and reminisce. When I discovered this recipe last week it made me smile to imagine making it for him, knowing he would have loved the combination of braised meat served with guacamole and tortillas. This recipe, this post and this day are for him. Yup, that just made me cry. Continue reading
WTF Do I Eat Tonight? 