the artful cook

I've almost recovered...

2008-01-13T16:35:00.001Z

After the best party I've been to in a long time thrown be the hostess with the mostest, who guarantees me side splitting laughter (thanks again Suzanne), and syled so stunningly by her oh so enviable friend Trudy who looks unashamedly gorgeous after 3 hours sleep and a hangover, I am writing hastily (while I can still remember) to give Trudy an old treasure of a recipe for melt-in-the-mouth lamb.

Traditional dish from Périgord called 'Gigot d'Agneau à la Couronne d'Ail' (to us, a leg of lamb with a ridiculous amount of garlic...) which renders the lamb into a state that can only be compared to confit of duck - falling away from the bone and so unbelievably rich that you need little more than a salad to go with it. I love it, but it gives me chronic indegestion, have your Rennies at the ready just in case.

Leg of Lamb with a Crazy Amount of Garlic

2kg leg of lamb
2 tbsp goose fat
50-60 cloves garlic, peeled
3 tbsp brandy
300ml Sauternes (or similar)
large sprig rosemary
salt, pepper

Find yourself a deep pan or pot preferably with a lid, flameproof for the top of the stove - I use a fish steamer I've got as it's perfect for a leg. Brown the leg all over in the goose fat then add the garlic around it. Heat the brandy in a ladle, set alight and pour over the lamb (Alfie will like to watch this..) add wine, rosemary and seasoning and bring to a simmer. Cover tightly and cook at the lowest heat for 5 hours, turn it every so often, maybe every 45 minutes or so. It is now done. Skim excess fat from the surface of the sauce, check seasoning, garlic will turn to purée on your tongue, lamb will be so so tender. You will have bad breath for a week - only joking.

Look forward to seeing you all again soon, best weekend I've had in a long time. And it sure did beat Christmas and New Year by a mile.

made to make your mouth water

2008-01-09T14:45:00.000Z

Continuing with fruit - following my earlier preoccupation with fish and fish soup - I wanted to brighten up the blog with a helping of citrus flavours and colours. Fantastic flavour bursts to excite the palette for us poor folks in the N hemisphere who have exhausted their winter apple and pear repertoires. Also good to eat after fish or fish soup..

So, keeping it very short as usual, as I have little or no time to dedicate to this or many other of the things I love, I shall proceed with an exceedingly good recipe suggestion, light and tangy, lovely and luscious...

Lemon and Lime Soufflé with Orange Custard

60g butter
125g caster sugar
grated zest/juice 2 lemons
grated zest/juice 1 lime
4 egg yolks
5 egg whites

for the orange sauce:
250ml fresh orange juice
50g sugar
2 -3 egg yolks

Butter 6 individual ramekins and dust them with sugar so that the sides are coated. Discard excess sugar. This coating will prevent the soufflé from sticking to the ramekin. Pre heat the oven to 180°C

Whisk half sugar & yolks, add zest & juice, whisk over bain marie until it begins to thicken then add butter in dice a little at a time and continue to whisk until you have a delicious lemon and lime curd. Remove from the bain marie and allow to cool slightly as you whisk together the egg whites until they thicken - now add the rest of the sugar to the egg whites and whisk again until you have fluffy white peaks of meringue. Fold the lemon and lime curd into the egg whites carefully so as not to lose too much of the precious air.

Fill the ramekins with soufflé mix and scrape the surface flat with a palette knife (or not if you like them irregular) and sit on a tray. Transfer to the oven for 8-12 minutes or until beautifully risen and golden.

While the exciting stuff goes on in the oven, whisk the egg yolks and sugar together in a bowl until light and fluffy, add the orange juice and whisk that in, then transfer to a saucepan and cook over a low heat, stirring continuously until the custard thicken. Don't overcook or the yolks will curdle.

The custard should be ready to greet the soufflé. As you take the ramekins from the oven, break the soufflé crust and pour some orange custard into the depths (this will cause the soufflé to float upwards and look even more impressive). Dust with icing sugar to make it look devastatingly good and run for the table - you have only seconds before it begins to collapse.

Thankfully it still tastes fantastic even if it does collapse...

All Gone Perfectly Pear Shaped...

2007-12-08T16:49:00.000Z

I really don't get around to doing this as often as I'd like, and the words of encouragement from so many of you who've stumbled across this modest blog have made me feel that I just have to make more effort. It is just so lovely to receive positive remarks from all of you, and very humbling when I see what marvelous blogs many of you are managing to maintain. On Haalo's blog I've also spotted the most brilliant photographs of raw ingredients which will, over time, provide me with endless inspiration for my own little illustrations.

So, now that I've sung a few praises, but not nearly enough, I'd like to praise the pear. Still very good here, as are our apples, and in the season of spice they do enjoy the company of cinnamon, cloves, mace, etc etc. I thought it fitting to try uplifting the pear tart into a more seasonal incarnation and have come up with poaching pears in spiced white wine before laying them on walnut pastry, saving the spiced wine to reduce to a spicy syrup to then fold into crème fraiche to serve with the galette. Sounds good? You bet it is.

And 2 out of 3 of the ingredients feature in the 'Out of the Bag' January challenge on A Slice of Cherry Pie blog so I guess I almost qualify to take part (assuming my illustrations can count as a picture of the dish?). All the best to you and all the others participating...

San's Spiced Pear and Walnut Galettes
for the pears:
3 large pears
1 vanilla pod/1 cinnamon stick/ 2 cloves
150g caster sugar
white wine, to cover

for the pastry:
120 g walnut pieces
60 g plain flour
60 g caster sugar
60 g unsalted butter
pinch of salt

6 dessert spoons of crème fraiche

for the poached pears:
Peel the pears, halve them and remove the core and woody stem with a small, sharp knife. Place the sugar, white wine and the cinnamon stick, cloves and vanilla pod split lengthways into a shallow pan and heat until the sugar has dissolved. Reduce to a simmer and add the pear halves, cook until tender – turning half way through with a palette knife. Remove from syrup and dry on kitchen paper. Put the syrup back over the heat and reduce to very little then strain and allow to cool before folding in to the crème fraiche.

for the walnut pastry:
Preheat the oven to 180ºC
Place the walnut pieces in a processor and reduce to fine crumbs. Add the butter, sugar, flour and salt and pulse together. Remove and press into a ball and leave to rest in the fridge for half an hour before using.

Roll between 2 sheets of cling film – the pastry is very fragile and this is an excellent way of dealing with it – to a thickness of 5 mm then remove the top layer of film and use a pastry cutter to cut 6 discs 8 cm in diameter. Move them to a baking sheet, buttered if necessary.Bake for 7-10 minutes until firm – do not overcook as the walnut becomes bitter to the taste. Place a disc of walnut pastry on the plate, with a small sharp knife slice the pear half several times to within a cm of the top of the pear and fan it across the biscuit, serve with a dollop of spiced crème fraiche.

2007-11-17T12:40:00.000Z

I'm feeling just a little jaded after having friends around for dinner last night - haven't done it for a long while and am wondering why. Great company, a lovely easy menu that required not too much fancy footwork in the kitchen, and plenty of delicious red wine to keep the cook happy. A tad too happy perhaps, but hey, once in a while it's good to stay up way too late, indulge way too much, and remind yourself of how very much you like your mates.

And what has this to do with writing about stock? Absolutely nothing, except that if I wasn't a little jaded I'd probably be doing something much more productive (and boring) around the house rather than sitting here.

And so to stock, the simplest of things to make and one of the most satisfying, the cornerstone of many recipes and the ingredient on which some dishes are made or broken on - and yet few home cooks can be bothered to go to the trouble of making it. Well shame on you, because those horrible cubes are no substitute for the real thing. For the greatest ease use a small whole chicken, add to it a couple of peeled carrots, a large trimmed leek, one hefty onion (skin left on for glorious golden colour), a couple of sticks of celery, a few pepper corns, some mushroom stalks (or even better a small handful of dried porcini for even more depth of colour and a fantastic flavour) and any other flavours you might fancy (fennel bulb perhaps, or a bundle of herbs). Cover all in a large stock pot with water, do not add salt, (you may at a later stage want to reduce the stock for a sauce and it would then be rendered over salty), bring to the boil and simmer for an hour or more - depending on the size of the chicken. Done! Lift out he poached chicken, remove the flabby skin and serve warm with aioli, discard the stock vegetables and strain the golden liquor through several sheets of kitchen paper to remove both fat and stray particles, do it again through more paper if necessary, and there you have it. Smells good, tastes better, and your risotto is crying out for it.

Zest for Life...

2007-10-27T11:13:00.000+01:00

This one is for Zlamushka's Spicy Kitchen - a small contribution to her Spoonful of Christmas for which Zuzana is asking for recipes and food ideas for things to be given as gifts at Christmas - a fine and fun notion. I covet a recipe I have from a Swedish friend Lisalotte for gingerbread to construct a gingerbread house; I guard my Christmas pudding recipe (5 already made and stored in a cool dark place); yearn for the perfect Stollen recipe; and happily part with this recipe for Spiced Oranges...

To be made at least six weeks before using if you want the flavours to mellow properly and best shown off in a goldfish bowl jar with perfect slices of orange pressed against the glass, suspended in delicious spiced syrup. These are to be given with love to those who will appreciate thier sweet sour flavours with game dishes or served beside cold meats on Christmas Eve. Most perfect with duck or guinea fowl, or as a glorious top to a terrine of lamb's sweetbreads.

Slice 20 small oranges thinly, discarding leathery tops and tails and pips, place in a humongously large pan and poach in simmering water for half an hur until their peel is tender - but don't reduce to mush, please! Drain them and spread out carefully across a deep ovenproof tray. Make a syrup by dissolving 1.25kg of sugar with 600ml of white wine vinegar over a gentle heat, throw in 2 cinnamon sticks, 10 blades of mace and a teaspoon of cloves, then bring to the boil and cook for 4 minutes. Pour the syrup over the awaiting orange slices, cover tightly with foil and cook for an hour in a low oven, 140°C. Cool and then get your fingers sticky because the only way to pack them beautifully is to use your hands. finally pour in the spiced syrup, seal and store in a cool dark place until Christmas. Makes enough for 8-10 special friends.

Packing a punch...

2007-10-06T16:49:00.000+01:00

...the perfectectly peppery rocket leaf, now suffering from over-exposure and probably destined to several years in the wilderness - like curly parsley. How fickle is the world of culinary fashion. Ah, those were the days, about twenty years back, when it was almost unheard of in the UK, as was (and still is) sorrel. My ex's father, who was French, grew shed-loads of both in his back garden, and they self-seeded and came back unannounced year after year. Living in the heartland of organic producers and growers, as I do, I have access to the best of herbs; and the rocket is as peppery and robust as any Italian or Frenchman would be happy to devour, which is just as well since my herbs (all except sage, rosemary, oregano and thyme) fall foul to gangs of merauding snails. Anyway, I'd like to pay hommage to rocket, my favourite salad herb, for the Weekend Herb Blogging - hosted this weekend by the amazing Cook (Almost) Anything blogger, Haalo, who I hope is having a fantastic foodie time in Florence.

And what best to do with rocket. Well the glorious autumn crop of squashes has hit the shelves and I suggest a warm 'Roasted Butternut Squash, Goat's Cheese, Pancetta and Rocket Leaf Salad'. Grill slices of pancetta briefly until curling and crisp, set aside. Peel and dice the squash, season and toss in olive oil then roast at 220°C for about 10 minutes until tinged with golden brown edges, remove and toss again with a few drops of balsamic vinegar. Crumble in plenty of that pure white goat's cheese, and scatter all over a generous handful of rocket. Surround with a split dressing of very good olive oil and precious drops of aged balsamic and scatter over crisp pancetta and freshly toasted pumkin seeds. Simple, clean, unadulterated autumnal bliss to be enjoyed with warm crusty rustic bread of the home-made kind.

The Little Guy's Learning to Cook

2007-10-01T20:46:00.001+01:00

The little guy, my youngest of two, who's not little at all, but who'll be the little one in my book for life, shows a good deal of resistance to learning to do anything more than pour milk on his cereal - which I don't think we can seriously classify as cooking. But then along comes the dish that he loves best of all and Mum's not always willing to get up off her spreading backside to make it for him, yes, it's Bananas and Rum. So here I am in the loft at my iMac and down there in the kitchen he's working away over a hot stove - for the buttery smell of pan fried bananas is wafting up the stairs... oooo,and there it is... the aroma of dark rum as it evaporates on hitting the pan.

One day some gorgeous girl is going to be so impressed when he says 'would you like to come in for coffee, and maybe I could make you a bite to eat...' at which point he deftly sautées diagonally sliced bananas to golden brown, shakes over a smidgeon of soft brown sugar followed by a slug of dark dark rum and a casual pouring of cream to miraculously produce a silky sauce.

Well she'll be lucky - he's never offered to make them for me.

Fish & Mussel Soup

2007-09-26T17:10:00.000+01:00

It was always my intention to fill my blog with recipes as well as having a cracking good ramble about food in general, so here you are my friends! Not the simplest, in that it does depend very much on you having the time to knock up a decent fish stock first, but given that the days are going to get drearier by the minute you may as well pass your time constructively.

It's just the best time of year here to be making the most of your mussels. For this fish soup choose a selection of fish such as monkfish – for sheer meatiness, sole for delicacy, hake, cod, and mackerel for its oily richness. You can use any combination you like but have a care to add them to the soup in order of the length of time they will take to cook. Save the delicate fish such as sole, and the mussels, to the last as they need to be cooked only briefly immediately before serving. Do not add salt until the end of cooking time - mussels bring salt with them and you may not require it at all. To serves 6 lay your paws on the following...

1.5 kg of mixed fish (monk, cod, hake, mackerel, sole, brill, conger eel - take your pick of what’s best at the fishmonger, whatever turns you on, 2-4 types plus the mussels I'd say)
1 litre fish stock made from heads & bones (see below if your a fish stock virgin)
30 mussels, cleaned
6 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 2cm dice
2 leeks, washed, trimmed, halved lengthways and sliced
2 onions, peeled and chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
50g butter
284 ml carton of double cream
225g cooked & squeezed young spinach leaves
2 tablespoons of chopped parsley

for the croutons:
6 slices of white bread cut into generous squares
6 tablespoons light olive oil – to fry
1 large clove of garlic

And then...Cut the fish into meaty chunks and try to keep them all to a similar size – with the mackerel and such, leave skin on and bone in, this is a rustic soup. Take the fillets and skin off the sole, if using, and roll and pin them with cocktail sticks to make white fish rosettes. Set aside in the fridge. Make the croutons by frying the cut bread in the oil until golden on both sides, drain on kitchen paper and rub with the cut garlic clove. Set aside.

If your fish are not going to generate sufficient fish bones for your stock then ask your fishmonger for some more, you will need: 750g bones, roasted to golden brown (gives you more flavour and better colour); a chopped onion; parsley trimmings; 1 dried chilli; a couple of ripe tomatoes; 6 peppercorns; 250ml dry white wine; 1 litre of water and 25g butter - plus a good pinch of saffron if you have it. Sauté the onion in the butter until softened, add everything to the pan, simmer for 20-30 minutes and then strain off the stock – there should be around a litre.

Melt the butter in a large saucepan and add the onion, leek and garlic - cook until softened. Add the potatoes and the fish stock and simmer for a few minutes until the potatoes are partly cooked before adding the meatier fish types such as monk and mackerel. Simmer again for a few minutes and then add more tender fish types and simmer for a couple more minutes.

Finally, add the rosettes of sole deep into the soup, pour in the cream, add the spinach and distribute gently through the soup, and bring back to a simmer - now top with the mussels, and cover for a couple more minutes - or until the mussels have opened. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary, and I think you'll find that a squeeze of fresh lemon juice won't do it any harm either.

Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve in large, deep bowls (preferably previously warmed), with the croutons - and large glasses of chilled white wine.

This has nothing to do with prawns...

2007-09-16T13:08:00.001+01:00

... nothing at all, I just think the little guy looks sweet enough to eat. I'm not very confident of my illustrative capabilities and pick up my pen & brush with trepidation. It's a lot like cooking, if it goes wrong it's hard to live with the consequences.

So what's been cooking here this week?
Small monk fish tails were a bargain on the Totnes Friday market, and the mussels were fabulous so back home to a family Friday fish supper. Clean and cook mussels in white wine reduced with sautéed shallot for enough time (2 minutes) to open and add mussel juices to the liquor - mussels set aside for a while. And there was more fish stock retrieved from the freezer from last week so it was added to white wine and reduced; then added to that was the rest of the creme fraiche and that was reduced. Monk fish tails fried off briefly in foaming butter to brown, sugar snaps from Riverford thrown in with potatoes cooked to tender, and the fish stock reduction. Check seasoning and add a tad more salt, a grinding of pepper, and cook a further couple of minutes before returning the mussels back to reheat. Served up in big pasta bowls with lashings of finely chopped flat leaf parsley, mixed with lemon zest and crushed, finely chpopped garlic (gremolata to some) a squeeze of lemon juice. Bloody lovely. Could only have been improved with some prawns.

Now I'm sure the French would say that was cotriade with shell fish in it, or chowder, or some such, but it's not - it's buying a few things that go together and then putting them together. At some point in one's culinary life you have to go freeform, and when it works out well (as with the pen & brushes) it's a uniquely satisfying experience. Also puts a smile on the family's faces which is even more satisfying.

Bread and Fishes

2007-09-09T14:54:00.001+01:00

I have had the most fun couple of weeks messing about with dough. I dare say friends and family are now sick to the back teeth of me talking about the state of my ferment so hell, I may as well bore the ether...

I've been making bread for donkey's years and have got myself into some bad habits and complacency - it's easy to congratulate yourself that your bread is better than shop-bought, but let's face it, that's not difficult. I make in a haphazzard way, no weighing, no measuring, and yes it tastes good, but it's always soft, evenly textured etc. What I've always wanted to achieve was a light crusty baguette or flour dusty ciabatta riddled with leathery holes, bread that has attitude, bread that you want to tear rather than cut.

Bingo! The penny has finally dropped. You have to get more water in there than you'd magine possible, then you have bubbles and holes galore. You need slow fermentation to achieve a more pronounced flavour an a better colour. And you need steam in the oven, coupled with fierce temperature, to produce a cracking good crust. What you need more than anything is Richard Bertinet's book 'Dough' and to watch him handle the stuff (DVD supplied in the book). He's a pleasure to watch, good strong hands, soft French accent, mmmmm....

OK so hub and kids are madly enjoying ciabatta made with avocado oil, fougasse - great served warm with garlic butter to dip in to, epy and , most recently, pain de campagne. The dough making method is one I have used for over 20 years to make brioche. Although it feels all wrong when you start to work with dough this way (more of a dough slapping and hurling than kneading) you mustn't be disconcerted, the results are stupendous.

So why the leek? Well, made a humdinger of a fish soup last night with little more than a couple of good leeks, a kilo of white fish bones donated freely by my fishmonger, onion, fennel trimmings, and a slug of white wine. Just a great stock made more flavoursome by adding chilli, saffron, peppercorns and a half a can of chopped tomatoes. Strained through a conical sieve, I aready had a full flavoured soup, but reduced it with a hefty dollop of creme fraiche then added small fillets of lemon sole. Two minutes later, into warm soup bowls, squeeze of lemon and sprinkling of finely chopped parsley and chervil. What more do you need? Well, some crusty Pain de Campagne...

Great Grated

2007-08-24T16:25:00.001+01:00

Ah, just wanted to show the doodle. They look so lovely these little darlings, good enough to eat. Clean them up, trim the root, leave on the tender parts of the stems, and roast in olive oil. Dress with white balsamic vinegar. I wonder, could I have painted this with the juice that came out when I trimmed them?? Must give it a try.

Bigger beets can be cut into matchsticks, deep fried, lightly salted and served hot and crisp with drinks - deelish.

Mint's Gone Mad

2007-07-14T11:57:00.001+01:00

The only thing enjoying the summer deluge here is the herb patch - oh, and the slugs. How do they get into the house, make their way across a couple of rooms unnoticed, and set about my basil and chilli pots? Thankfully they don't care for sage, savoury or golden oregano, and the mint is on a mission to grow faster than they can eat it. I had a run in with spearmint last year, liked the look and the smell of it but never really found it of much use, and then while I'm unawares it managed to invade every square inch of the patch it was in. The slugs don't care for spearmint either, so no help from them to curb its enthusiasm, had to dig it all out.

Anyway, the mint's gone mad. But the common sort is very useful and has the taste of summer - pity we're not having one. I'll have to wait for some sun to trot out the mint laden tabouleh to have with grilled lamb, but am making the most of my latest craze for grilling fresh mackerel and serving it with thick mint dressing - just a dijon based vinaigrette to which I add copious amounts of fresh mint at the last minute (does end up losing its colour very quickly when exposed to lemon juice or wine vinegar). Its a revelation. Am also enjoying my own version of guacamole - garlic, green chilli, shallot, lime juice and lots and lots of chopped mint to compliment the avocado.

Cooking is my Therapy

2007-07-11T16:31:00.000+01:00

I guess most of us believe we have a book locked up inside us, but know that it's never going to happen. So now I'd like to get something of mine out of my system and up 'n' floating around the planet, hopefully gathering some global food thoughts and friends as it goes. Food and drink are what bring us together.

I used to mess about in the kitchen, nervous about my cooking, religiously following those recipes, ever wondering whether 400g of potatoes was before or after peeling. Geez, we can get so hung up; it's all such a trial, will the soufflé flop, is the chicken cooked right through, my God, was it really supposed to look like that? Well then it all suddenly clicked. Don't know when it was exactly, or what triggered the click, but suddenly I wasn't nervous, I wasn't following recipes either, I was creating my own. Confidence was quick to grow, and now I've joined the ranks of the foodies - or are we cookies?

Yup, it's my therapy. I can get shed loads of tension out of my system by cooking, and then it pleases people, and they're liking it, and they're replacing the tension with good stuff and we're all happy! Generally the whole process is even more successful if it's well oiled with wine, some music, and no time limit.

I occasionally do get some food writing, nothing that's going to make me more than a few beans, but i enjoy it. I also illustrate it; somewhat overdosed on the food photography I've taken to sketching when inspired - usually it's the ingredients themselves that I draw in my own inimitable style but I also do step-by-step doodles too, and the odd recipe in comic strip style. Enough for now, bit by bit I'm going to put the bloody lot on here...