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Lamb is not just for Easter - serve it all summer long!
You can pretty much guarantee that the new season’s lamb will be in pride of place on Easter Sunday in the form of a magnificent roast leg or shoulder but then as the year progresses into summer it tends to take a back seat. Lamb is tender; lamb is succulent, easy to cook and if you marinade it first , it won’t take long to cook, even if you like it well done.
Choose cutlets, chops or steaks for the char-grill, barbeque, grill or frying-pan. If time is not an issue slow roast lamb can be a summertime feast in your garden. Chop shoulder into portion-size chunks add some tropical fruit and marinade with Indian spices and roast quickly in the oven. Cut shoulder into smaller pieces and marinade in lemon and fennel seeds, thread onto skewers and grill or simply seal and cook in light tomato sauce with peas.
However you cook your lamb, serve it with lightly cooked new vegetables such as broad beans, peas, artichokes, runner beans, courgettes cabbage and potatoes as they come into season. Serve the vegetables hot, tossed in melted butter with mint or thyme, warm in a French dressing with dill or tarragon or cold in mayonnaise with chives or basil.
Sicilian Style lamb cutlets with lemon and garlic
Some years ago I spent Easter in Palermo with my family and curious to know how the locals spent Easter Sunday I was told they escape to the woods outside the town for a cook out. We had lunch in a beautiful seafood restaurant and then took to the woods. It was amazing – we think we love the countryside but there were families everywhere, people were as thick on the ground as the trees. Smoke wafted everywhere and the woods wer heavy with the fragrant scent of roasting lamb.
1 kg thin cut lamb cutlets
6 cloves garlic
Juice of two 2 lemons
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 bay leaf – torn
Freshly ground black pepper
To Serve
100 g wild rocker
Coarse sea salt
Lemon wedges
Serves 4 – 6
Put the lamb cutlets in a large plastic freezer bag, and then add the garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, bay leaf and plenty of black pepper. Seal tightly and leave to stand for 1 – 24 hours – as time allows, turning from time to time to allow even distribution of the marinade. Marinate at room temperature for short periods of around an hour – otherwise put the bag in the fridge.
When ready to cook, drain the cutlets and reserve the marinade. Put the cutlets on a pre-heated griddle, grill pan or barbeque and cook for 5 – 30. This will depend on three things - how you like your lamb cooked - the thickness or thinness of the cut - how hot your cooking pan is. Turn the lamb as necessary, basting with the reserved marinade.
Spread the rocket onto a large serving platter and arrange the lamb cutlets on top, sprinkle with salt and serve with lemon wedges.
Monday, 23 May 2011
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Lamb is not just for Easter - serve it all summer long!
You can pretty much guarantee that the new season’s lamb will be in pride of place on Easter Sunday in the form of a magnificent roast leg or shoulder but then as the year progresses into summer it tends to take a back seat. Lamb is tender; lamb is succulent, easy to cook and if you marinade it first , it won’t take long to cook, even if you like it well done.
Choose cutlets, chops or steaks for the char-grill, barbeque, grill or frying-pan. If time is not an issue slow roast lamb can be a summertime feast in your garden. Chop shoulder into portion-size chunks add some tropical fruit and marinade with Indian spices and roast quickly in the oven. Cut shoulder into smaller pieces and marinade in lemon and fennel seeds, thread onto skewers and grill or simply seal and cook in light tomato sauce with peas.
However you cook your lamb, serve it with lightly cooked new vegetables such as broad beans, peas, artichokes, runner beans, courgettes cabbage and potatoes as they come into season. Serve the vegetables hot, tossed in melted butter with mint or thyme, warm in a French dressing with dill or tarragon or cold in mayonnaise with chives or basil.
Sicilian Style lamb cutlets with lemon and garlic
Some years ago I spent Easter in Palermo with my family and curious to know how the locals spent Easter Sunday I was told they escape to the woods outside the town for a cook out. We had lunch in a beautiful seafood restaurant and then took to the woods. It was amazing – we think we love the countryside but there were families everywhere, people were as thick on the ground as the trees. Smoke wafted everywhere and the woods wer heavy with the fragrant scent of roasting lamb.
1 kg thin cut lamb cutlets
6 cloves garlic
Juice of two 2 lemons
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 bay leaf – torn
Freshly ground black pepper
To Serve
100 g wild rocker
Coarse sea salt
Lemon wedges
Serves 4 – 6
Put the lamb cutlets in a large plastic freezer bag, and then add the garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, bay leaf and plenty of black pepper. Seal tightly and leave to stand for 1 – 24 hours – as time allows, turning from time to time to allow even distribution of the marinade. Marinate at room temperature for short periods of around an hour – otherwise put the bag in the fridge.
When ready to cook, drain the cutlets and reserve the marinade. Put the cutlets on a pre-heated griddle, grill pan or barbeque and cook for 5 – 30. This will depend on three things - how you like your lamb cooked - the thickness or thinness of the cut - how hot your cooking pan is. Turn the lamb as necessary, basting with the reserved marinade.
Spread the rocket onto a large serving platter and arrange the lamb cutlets on top, sprinkle with salt and serve with lemon wedges.
Choose cutlets, chops or steaks for the char-grill, barbeque, grill or frying-pan. If time is not an issue slow roast lamb can be a summertime feast in your garden. Chop shoulder into portion-size chunks add some tropical fruit and marinade with Indian spices and roast quickly in the oven. Cut shoulder into smaller pieces and marinade in lemon and fennel seeds, thread onto skewers and grill or simply seal and cook in light tomato sauce with peas.
However you cook your lamb, serve it with lightly cooked new vegetables such as broad beans, peas, artichokes, runner beans, courgettes cabbage and potatoes as they come into season. Serve the vegetables hot, tossed in melted butter with mint or thyme, warm in a French dressing with dill or tarragon or cold in mayonnaise with chives or basil.
Sicilian Style lamb cutlets with lemon and garlic
Some years ago I spent Easter in Palermo with my family and curious to know how the locals spent Easter Sunday I was told they escape to the woods outside the town for a cook out. We had lunch in a beautiful seafood restaurant and then took to the woods. It was amazing – we think we love the countryside but there were families everywhere, people were as thick on the ground as the trees. Smoke wafted everywhere and the woods wer heavy with the fragrant scent of roasting lamb.
1 kg thin cut lamb cutlets
6 cloves garlic
Juice of two 2 lemons
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 bay leaf – torn
Freshly ground black pepper
To Serve
100 g wild rocker
Coarse sea salt
Lemon wedges
Serves 4 – 6
Put the lamb cutlets in a large plastic freezer bag, and then add the garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, bay leaf and plenty of black pepper. Seal tightly and leave to stand for 1 – 24 hours – as time allows, turning from time to time to allow even distribution of the marinade. Marinate at room temperature for short periods of around an hour – otherwise put the bag in the fridge.
When ready to cook, drain the cutlets and reserve the marinade. Put the cutlets on a pre-heated griddle, grill pan or barbeque and cook for 5 – 30. This will depend on three things - how you like your lamb cooked - the thickness or thinness of the cut - how hot your cooking pan is. Turn the lamb as necessary, basting with the reserved marinade.
Spread the rocket onto a large serving platter and arrange the lamb cutlets on top, sprinkle with salt and serve with lemon wedges.
April 2011: No apology for asparagus
I offer no apology for waxing lyrical yet again about the new season’s asparagus. But then I would never dream of buying the stuff when it is imported and therefore now is the time it should be welcomed into season by a fanfare of trumpets.
Once of course we had to wait until much later for the magic to begin but with today’s poly tunnel farming that is old hat. A bit of me, the traditional bit, would be quite happy to wait for the true season because forced crops are often disappointing but two weeks ago I walked into Truffles and there before me on the floor was a basket of paper wrapped bunches of asparagus proclaiming “grown by the Chin family in the Wye Valley.” Short stubby straight spears with pert tips and freshly cut stems – expensive yes – but unmistakeably delicious, unmistakably tender. I only had to look at it to know – and this kind of asparagus needs very little cooking and no frills. Simply snap off the ends plunge into simmering water (a frying pan is useful if the spears are long) and cook for a few minutes. Use the prongs of a fork to test for tenderness. Drain carefully and add melted butter, olive oil and Parmesan or grated bottarga or serve with a lightly boiled or poached egg and use the spears as soldiers, alternatively refresh in cold water and wrap in slices of cured ham, dress with vinaigrette or serve in a simple starter salad.
Here in the heart of the Wye Valley we grow the most wonderful asparagus and in Ross, shops such as Truffles and Spar stock it regularly through the season. I know one chef-patron working in Wales who drives here to the farm everyday to pick up his quota for the restaurant because if he buys it from his wholesaler in Wales it goes first to London and then back again before he can get his hands on it. The quality of asparagus depends so much on freshness.
As the season progresses try serving it in a risotto or with pasta. This is a favourite of mine.
500 g ridged pasta quills
250 g asparagus spears
4 eggs
125 ml single cream
3 tablespoons grated pecorino or parmesan cheese
Black pepper
50 g butter
Small bunch of flat leafed parsley finely chopped
Plunge the pasta quills into plenty of boiling salted water and cook until tender (see timing on packet)
Cook the asparagus as above and cut into 2-3 cm lengths.
Put the eggs in a large bowl (big enough to serve the pasta in) and beat lightly, add the cream, the cheese, plenty of black pepper and the butter.
Strain the pasta when cooked al dente and add to the dish containing the egg mixture, add the asparagus pieces and the chopped parsley, stir well and serve at once.
Once of course we had to wait until much later for the magic to begin but with today’s poly tunnel farming that is old hat. A bit of me, the traditional bit, would be quite happy to wait for the true season because forced crops are often disappointing but two weeks ago I walked into Truffles and there before me on the floor was a basket of paper wrapped bunches of asparagus proclaiming “grown by the Chin family in the Wye Valley.” Short stubby straight spears with pert tips and freshly cut stems – expensive yes – but unmistakeably delicious, unmistakably tender. I only had to look at it to know – and this kind of asparagus needs very little cooking and no frills. Simply snap off the ends plunge into simmering water (a frying pan is useful if the spears are long) and cook for a few minutes. Use the prongs of a fork to test for tenderness. Drain carefully and add melted butter, olive oil and Parmesan or grated bottarga or serve with a lightly boiled or poached egg and use the spears as soldiers, alternatively refresh in cold water and wrap in slices of cured ham, dress with vinaigrette or serve in a simple starter salad.
Here in the heart of the Wye Valley we grow the most wonderful asparagus and in Ross, shops such as Truffles and Spar stock it regularly through the season. I know one chef-patron working in Wales who drives here to the farm everyday to pick up his quota for the restaurant because if he buys it from his wholesaler in Wales it goes first to London and then back again before he can get his hands on it. The quality of asparagus depends so much on freshness.
As the season progresses try serving it in a risotto or with pasta. This is a favourite of mine.
500 g ridged pasta quills
250 g asparagus spears
4 eggs
125 ml single cream
3 tablespoons grated pecorino or parmesan cheese
Black pepper
50 g butter
Small bunch of flat leafed parsley finely chopped
Plunge the pasta quills into plenty of boiling salted water and cook until tender (see timing on packet)
Cook the asparagus as above and cut into 2-3 cm lengths.
Put the eggs in a large bowl (big enough to serve the pasta in) and beat lightly, add the cream, the cheese, plenty of black pepper and the butter.
Strain the pasta when cooked al dente and add to the dish containing the egg mixture, add the asparagus pieces and the chopped parsley, stir well and serve at once.
March 2011: Curing
Since my most recent book Cured came out last year I have been inundated with requests to do Curing workshops from my own cookery school - The Chef's Room - in Wales to the Abergavenny Food Festival - the Monmouth Women's Restival and various venues in London. The interest and enthusiasm for curing knows no bounds and I have just heard that we are to have our very own British curing festival in London this autumn which is amazing and so exciting.
Many people ask me exactly what is curing – curing is a collective name for all forms of preserving; drying, salting, smoking, spicing, marinating, potting, pickling and raw. It is a subject as old as man himself – who even as a hunter gatherer faced the eternal problem of how to store food in times of plenty for leaner times.
What I love about curing is that it is culinary alchemy. It is like turning base metal into gold. For example a good jam captures the essence of the main ingredient. The flavour is intensified and takes on something of its own. This is true of every kind of preserving; think salmon then think about smoked salmon, think beef then think pastrami, and think pork think prosciutto. Curing is exciting and addictive and best of all it is easy to do; it uses few ingredients and simple techniques, but it takes its time. This is true slow food. Once you have mastered the basics you can play around with ingredients and create all kinds of new flavours.
You may say, why cure now that we have fridges and freezers. As I have already said curing intensifies, deepens and enriches the flavour and offers room for experimentation. Curing also prolongs the life of meat, fish and vegetables and once you have cured your loin of pork, smoked your salmon, potted your rabbit these delicious dishes keep really well which means you always have something delicious in the fridge to offer friends or simply to treat yourself with.
Like making preserves you need top quality seasonal ingredients. Let the seasons work for you and don’t rush things, be organised, start with small cuts of meat and fish until you have perfected the curer’s craft. Remember this is not science, there are rules but you must use some common sense. Temperature and humidity will affect timing, each piece of meat or fish will respond differently. There is much to learn from experience
Curing is liberating – we have all become slaves to the last minute meal but this puts great pressure on the cook. Gravadlax may take three days to make but it takes only a few minutes and a few ingredients to prepare – add boiled potatoes and a dill sauce and at the end of it you have a meal fit for a king with no hassle what so ever. You just need to think about it in advance.
One last word Curing is not only about preserving lumps of meat and fish; it allows you to make all kinds of delicate dishes on a very domestic level. Salting and spicing takes roast pheasant to another level. Confits de canard, transfers a few inexpensive stringy duck legs into a melt in the mouth treat. Smoking a trout on the top of your kitchen stove and eating it hot is sublime and the secret is simply to think ahead.
Cured slow techniques for enhancing meat fish fruit and vegetables
By Lindy Wildsmith.
Cured was shortlisted along with 6 other books for the prestigious Andre Simon award and is also shortlisted for the Guild of Food Writers "Food book of the year"
Many people ask me exactly what is curing – curing is a collective name for all forms of preserving; drying, salting, smoking, spicing, marinating, potting, pickling and raw. It is a subject as old as man himself – who even as a hunter gatherer faced the eternal problem of how to store food in times of plenty for leaner times.
What I love about curing is that it is culinary alchemy. It is like turning base metal into gold. For example a good jam captures the essence of the main ingredient. The flavour is intensified and takes on something of its own. This is true of every kind of preserving; think salmon then think about smoked salmon, think beef then think pastrami, and think pork think prosciutto. Curing is exciting and addictive and best of all it is easy to do; it uses few ingredients and simple techniques, but it takes its time. This is true slow food. Once you have mastered the basics you can play around with ingredients and create all kinds of new flavours.
You may say, why cure now that we have fridges and freezers. As I have already said curing intensifies, deepens and enriches the flavour and offers room for experimentation. Curing also prolongs the life of meat, fish and vegetables and once you have cured your loin of pork, smoked your salmon, potted your rabbit these delicious dishes keep really well which means you always have something delicious in the fridge to offer friends or simply to treat yourself with.
Like making preserves you need top quality seasonal ingredients. Let the seasons work for you and don’t rush things, be organised, start with small cuts of meat and fish until you have perfected the curer’s craft. Remember this is not science, there are rules but you must use some common sense. Temperature and humidity will affect timing, each piece of meat or fish will respond differently. There is much to learn from experience
Curing is liberating – we have all become slaves to the last minute meal but this puts great pressure on the cook. Gravadlax may take three days to make but it takes only a few minutes and a few ingredients to prepare – add boiled potatoes and a dill sauce and at the end of it you have a meal fit for a king with no hassle what so ever. You just need to think about it in advance.
One last word Curing is not only about preserving lumps of meat and fish; it allows you to make all kinds of delicate dishes on a very domestic level. Salting and spicing takes roast pheasant to another level. Confits de canard, transfers a few inexpensive stringy duck legs into a melt in the mouth treat. Smoking a trout on the top of your kitchen stove and eating it hot is sublime and the secret is simply to think ahead.
Cured slow techniques for enhancing meat fish fruit and vegetables
By Lindy Wildsmith.
Cured was shortlisted along with 6 other books for the prestigious Andre Simon award and is also shortlisted for the Guild of Food Writers "Food book of the year"
February 2011: Morning Glory
Cambodia is a wonderful country with enchanting people and an unbearably sad past when the Khmer Rouge rampaged and wiped out academics and with them, much of the Khmeri culture, right down to the food. Only now is the country beginning to find itself again.
I arrived in Cambodia from Bangkok where I had enjoyed wonderful food on every street corner and market stall; familiar food, fragrant with lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves, chillies, nahm pla - fish sauce, palm sugar, ginger, chilies, Thai basil which has a sweet anise flavour, coconut milk, garlic, green papaya and limes. I was not sure what waited; would the food be more the same or would it different?
Sandwiched as Cambodia is between Vietnam and Thailand, one thing I was sure of was that I would not be disappointed. There are many cross-over dishes and many of the ingredients are the same but the richly sweet coconut cream is tempered by tamarind and bitter leaves, tiny round pea-like sweetly sour aubergines bob on the surface of curries, galangal replaces ginger, bunches of soft green peppercorns replace chilies and morning glory replaces broccoli.
Market stalls crowded with decorative piles of colourful perfumed fruit, from the idiosyncratic magenta skinned dragon fruit with its dalmatian black spotted flesh and ruby red hairy lycees and the stinky custard durian to the more familiar but never sweeter, never juicier pineapples and mangos and creamy bananas.
There are stalls with heaps of salads and vegetables on the floor which ooze that just picked sensation. Stalls where you can find every kind of seafood and where a fish still flips around on the slab as the clever comes down on it head. Stalls where women work endlessly, pounding chicken or shrimp or fish for housewives and vendors to buy and take home. Stalls where there are umpteen sacks and varieties of rice. People teem everywhere, jostling, pushing, diving and darting about their business. Tiny traditional fast food stands are crowded with people eating. Wherever you go wherever you look in every corner people are eating.
Sliced aubergine with minced pork, coriander and green peppercorns
4 smallish aubergines
4 tablespoon sunflower oil
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon green pepper corns
500 g minced pork
2 tablespoons palm sugar or muscovado sugar
1 tablespoon prik nam plas
8 tablespoons oyster sauce
100 ml chicken stock or water
4 spring onions finely chopped
Fresh coriander leaves
Salt
Peppe
Put the aubergines on a roasting tray in a hot oven, 200 C and cook until tender say 30 minutes. Leave until cool enough to slice.
Heat the oil in a wok over medium heat and add the garlic and chilli and stir fry until fragrant. Increase the heat; add the minced pork and stir fry for 5 minutes or until browned. Add the sugar, the fish and oyster sauces and cook for a minute. Pull off the heat, stir in the spring onions and stir well. Taste and add salt and pepper.
Arrange the prepared aubergine on the base of a serving dish, spoon the minced pork over the top and scatter the coriander over the top. Serve with steamed rice.
I arrived in Cambodia from Bangkok where I had enjoyed wonderful food on every street corner and market stall; familiar food, fragrant with lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves, chillies, nahm pla - fish sauce, palm sugar, ginger, chilies, Thai basil which has a sweet anise flavour, coconut milk, garlic, green papaya and limes. I was not sure what waited; would the food be more the same or would it different?
Sandwiched as Cambodia is between Vietnam and Thailand, one thing I was sure of was that I would not be disappointed. There are many cross-over dishes and many of the ingredients are the same but the richly sweet coconut cream is tempered by tamarind and bitter leaves, tiny round pea-like sweetly sour aubergines bob on the surface of curries, galangal replaces ginger, bunches of soft green peppercorns replace chilies and morning glory replaces broccoli.
Market stalls crowded with decorative piles of colourful perfumed fruit, from the idiosyncratic magenta skinned dragon fruit with its dalmatian black spotted flesh and ruby red hairy lycees and the stinky custard durian to the more familiar but never sweeter, never juicier pineapples and mangos and creamy bananas.
There are stalls with heaps of salads and vegetables on the floor which ooze that just picked sensation. Stalls where you can find every kind of seafood and where a fish still flips around on the slab as the clever comes down on it head. Stalls where women work endlessly, pounding chicken or shrimp or fish for housewives and vendors to buy and take home. Stalls where there are umpteen sacks and varieties of rice. People teem everywhere, jostling, pushing, diving and darting about their business. Tiny traditional fast food stands are crowded with people eating. Wherever you go wherever you look in every corner people are eating.
Sliced aubergine with minced pork, coriander and green peppercorns
4 smallish aubergines
4 tablespoon sunflower oil
6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon green pepper corns
500 g minced pork
2 tablespoons palm sugar or muscovado sugar
1 tablespoon prik nam plas
8 tablespoons oyster sauce
100 ml chicken stock or water
4 spring onions finely chopped
Fresh coriander leaves
Salt
Peppe
Put the aubergines on a roasting tray in a hot oven, 200 C and cook until tender say 30 minutes. Leave until cool enough to slice.
Heat the oil in a wok over medium heat and add the garlic and chilli and stir fry until fragrant. Increase the heat; add the minced pork and stir fry for 5 minutes or until browned. Add the sugar, the fish and oyster sauces and cook for a minute. Pull off the heat, stir in the spring onions and stir well. Taste and add salt and pepper.
Arrange the prepared aubergine on the base of a serving dish, spoon the minced pork over the top and scatter the coriander over the top. Serve with steamed rice.
Watercress: super food or a bit on the side? January 2011
Watercress has a distinctive peppery yet refreshing taste and a bright green colour guaranteed to cheer up the most tired palate. It lends itself perfectly to salads, sandwiches, sauces and soups but more often than not it is served as a garnish and often ends up left on the side of the plate.
Watercress contains more vitamin C than oranges, more calcium than milk, more iron than spinach, and more folate than bananas. It has high levels of antioxidants and as such increases the ability of cells to resist the damage to their DNA, helping protect against cell changes that can lead to cancer.
In Victorian London watercress was the original street food. It arrived in Covent Garden by rail. Street sellers bunched it in the early morning in time for the “mechanic’s breakfast”, then swarmed onto the streets crying “Fresh wo-orter-creases”; customers ate it in the hand like an ice cream cone. It was eaten in sandwiches for breakfast and in poorer homes on its own; earning itself the name “poor man’s bread”. Today it is more likely to be sold in anonymous salad bags but when I see it for sale in bunches I find it totally irresistible and take a leaf out of the Victorian’s book and munch it then and there.
Of late, watercress’s more glamorous Italian cousin rocket has stolen its fire to become the staple of the contemporary kitchen as a cushion for meat and fish dishes, an overlay for cured meats and for peppering up salads. The two plants are equally versatile and both are deliciously peppery but watercress has yet another dimension. Watercress’s stalks are succulent and cool and the leaves are tender and add a velvety texture to soups and sauces.
Whiz watercress and add to quark or mayonnaise to make a dip cum sauce or egg Mayo; stir last minute into eggy or creamy pasta dishes, stews or casserole to add vigour and freshness or make a delicious reviving soup to invigorate your tired January senses.
Invigorating winter watercress soup serves 4
4 shallots, roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
½ nutmeg grated, plus extra to serve
100ml white wine
400 ml vegetable or chicken stock
250 g watercress leaves and stems
Salt and coarsely ground black pepper to taste
200 ml single cream or yoghurt or extra stock (optional)
Extra virgin olive oil for frying.
Heat enough olive oil to cover the base of a frying pan, add shallots, garlic and nutmeg and fry over low heat until the onions are soft and gently caramelised. Give this plenty of time for the flavours to intensify. Quickly add the watercress and wilt. Then add the wine and stock and bring to the boil. Transfer to a blender and whiz until smooth. Adjust consistency with cream, yogurt or stock. Taste for seasoning and add salt and black pepper to please. Serve reheated with a grating of nutmeg and hot crusty bread.
Watercress contains more vitamin C than oranges, more calcium than milk, more iron than spinach, and more folate than bananas. It has high levels of antioxidants and as such increases the ability of cells to resist the damage to their DNA, helping protect against cell changes that can lead to cancer.
In Victorian London watercress was the original street food. It arrived in Covent Garden by rail. Street sellers bunched it in the early morning in time for the “mechanic’s breakfast”, then swarmed onto the streets crying “Fresh wo-orter-creases”; customers ate it in the hand like an ice cream cone. It was eaten in sandwiches for breakfast and in poorer homes on its own; earning itself the name “poor man’s bread”. Today it is more likely to be sold in anonymous salad bags but when I see it for sale in bunches I find it totally irresistible and take a leaf out of the Victorian’s book and munch it then and there.
Of late, watercress’s more glamorous Italian cousin rocket has stolen its fire to become the staple of the contemporary kitchen as a cushion for meat and fish dishes, an overlay for cured meats and for peppering up salads. The two plants are equally versatile and both are deliciously peppery but watercress has yet another dimension. Watercress’s stalks are succulent and cool and the leaves are tender and add a velvety texture to soups and sauces.
Whiz watercress and add to quark or mayonnaise to make a dip cum sauce or egg Mayo; stir last minute into eggy or creamy pasta dishes, stews or casserole to add vigour and freshness or make a delicious reviving soup to invigorate your tired January senses.
Invigorating winter watercress soup serves 4
4 shallots, roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
½ nutmeg grated, plus extra to serve
100ml white wine
400 ml vegetable or chicken stock
250 g watercress leaves and stems
Salt and coarsely ground black pepper to taste
200 ml single cream or yoghurt or extra stock (optional)
Extra virgin olive oil for frying.
Heat enough olive oil to cover the base of a frying pan, add shallots, garlic and nutmeg and fry over low heat until the onions are soft and gently caramelised. Give this plenty of time for the flavours to intensify. Quickly add the watercress and wilt. Then add the wine and stock and bring to the boil. Transfer to a blender and whiz until smooth. Adjust consistency with cream, yogurt or stock. Taste for seasoning and add salt and black pepper to please. Serve reheated with a grating of nutmeg and hot crusty bread.
The epitome of Christmas - December 2010
The Mandarin is a small jewel of a fruit with a fragrance that is the epitome of Christmas. Once upon a time it only appeared in our shops around the festive season; we called it a tangerine then; sold by the dozen arranged in pretty flat waxy cardboard boxes. The lid was tied down and the anticipation of slipping the knot and lifting the lid, to reveal the foil wrapped bright orange fruit inside cushioned with crinkles of tissue paper was part of the general excitement of the festive season: a far cry from the heaps of fruit sold for months on end in our shops today.
Mandarin was a nickname given to a loose-skinned orange-like fruit Citrus reticulata that arrived in this country from China at the beginning of the nineteenth century and remains today a useful general name for a wide range of similar fruits like the Clementine and Satsuma. They are at their peak at this time of year, so sweet, juicy, refreshing and easy to eat and remain synonymous with Christmas. Tied onto a Christmas tree with bows, arranged formally in a pyramid with bay leaves or simply tipped into a fruit bowl they “deck the halls” of homes up and down the country.
Peeled and rid of their pith they sparkle on the festive table. Served whole or sliced, either caramelised or marinated in sugar and white rum they make a reviving finale to a rich winter meal. Don’t throw the skin away – dry it in a low oven or warm airing cupboard, grind it and add to casseroles and marinades or simply chop it finely and add to stir-fries. Oh and yes the skins make the perfect receptacle for a mandarin sorbet.
Sliced mandarins with pomegranate jewels and maraschino
Serves 8
16 mandarins, peeled, pith removed with a sharp knife and sliced thinly
3 level tablespoons of caster sugar
3 tablespoons of maraschino
1 pomegranate, cut into quarters - scrape out the seeds and discard the pith
Put the prepared mandarin slices in a large shallow glass bowl, sprinkle with sugar and maraschino or other white liqueur, Cast the pomegranate jewels over the top and leave for an hour or two.
Mandarin was a nickname given to a loose-skinned orange-like fruit Citrus reticulata that arrived in this country from China at the beginning of the nineteenth century and remains today a useful general name for a wide range of similar fruits like the Clementine and Satsuma. They are at their peak at this time of year, so sweet, juicy, refreshing and easy to eat and remain synonymous with Christmas. Tied onto a Christmas tree with bows, arranged formally in a pyramid with bay leaves or simply tipped into a fruit bowl they “deck the halls” of homes up and down the country.
Peeled and rid of their pith they sparkle on the festive table. Served whole or sliced, either caramelised or marinated in sugar and white rum they make a reviving finale to a rich winter meal. Don’t throw the skin away – dry it in a low oven or warm airing cupboard, grind it and add to casseroles and marinades or simply chop it finely and add to stir-fries. Oh and yes the skins make the perfect receptacle for a mandarin sorbet.
Sliced mandarins with pomegranate jewels and maraschino
Serves 8
16 mandarins, peeled, pith removed with a sharp knife and sliced thinly
3 level tablespoons of caster sugar
3 tablespoons of maraschino
1 pomegranate, cut into quarters - scrape out the seeds and discard the pith
Put the prepared mandarin slices in a large shallow glass bowl, sprinkle with sugar and maraschino or other white liqueur, Cast the pomegranate jewels over the top and leave for an hour or two.
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