Stuff it!

Thus far my forays into baked pasta have been limited to the odd pasta bake (you know the sort of thing: tomatoey sauce, cheddar on top) and macaroni cheese. This week I decided to get sophisticated and make stuffed and baked ricotta shells. Times are currently hard in Kirkstall (in part owing to my handbag-buying habit), and this recipe featured in the seven meals for £35 section in Olive. I picked this recipe as courgettes were a main ingredient and the gentleman of the house likes them very much, and I thought it'd make a good photo for the blog.

This dish is economical: as our store is well stocked, I was able to buy everything we needed for £6.07 (including a re-stock of olive oil). I did make some alterations to this recipe--I thought that a tomato sauce consisting of just tinned tomatoes, a clove of garlic and oil was miserable, so I chucked in a pinch of sugar, some balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper (obviously) and stirred through some basil that was hanging about. (Olive could suggest all of the above, bar the basil: there isn't anything there that might not be in one's store.) ANYWAY, this is not a fast dish to make, as grating three courgettes takes a while--however, it is a nice comforting dish, and the pasta stays firm, although the filling could perhaps do with a little less lemon. And I think it photographs very well for the blog.

Next on the list for this week is an accidentally delicious cake. I'd seen a feature in Olive, in the July issue, on Matcha green tea powder, and there was an accompanying recipe for a green tea loaf. I don't like green tea as a drink, but I thought that a note of green tea in a loaf might make a nice sophisticated dessert for a dinner party--in the way that fish sauce is foul but can make a dish delicious. The only Matcha powder I could find in Leeds city centre cost £25 from Harvey Nichols. Such is my dedication to this blog I was looking at it and thinking about buying, when it was removed from my hands and I was removed from the store by Sam who couldn't believe I was even countenancing it. (Neither can I, with hindsight.) Anyway my solution to the tea problem was to make some strong green tea and add that to the loaf mix whilst also dying the cake green to get the required visual effect.

The green tea was utterly undetectable. There's no other way of putting it. However, as the cake had almonds in it, I thought it would go well with caramel, and I just happened to have a can of dulche de leche in. I served it in large chunks with a bowl of dulche de leche on the table. In the words of one of our guests, W, it was green for no reason, but it was delicious.

Now onto the recipe I tweeted my way through this morning: lemon sorbet. This will be served as a desert to follow a raclette party tonight. Much as I love raclette, it doesn't leave much room--or desire--for a pudding, but I thought that a sorbet might be nice to clear palates and make us all feel a bit less dirty after all the cheese. I've had a teaspoon of it for sampling purposes and it is delicious, very refreshing. I think it'll work a treat tonight.

Summer slippers

I'm ever so sorry, there was an impromptu publication break this week. Better late than never, though, here is your round up.

Last Monday saw the return of mackerel to this kitchen--and indeed, the smell, which lingers somewhat in a flat, even with an extractor fan and an open window. Anyhow, my Green party voting liberal as you like hippy parent, has for reasons known only to herself, started taking the Daily Torygraph (at least it isn't Murdoch owned). However, I shall lay off the teasing for a while as she posted me Jamie Oliver's Summer Seafood booklet which has lately come free with the Telegraph, and I picked out crispy skinned mackerel with an Asian style dressing. The fish is served on a bed of rice and is topped with mint and coriander (which I thought was nuts till I tried it) and has a sticky, spicy, honey and soy dressing. The crispy skin comes from dry frying the fish skin side down in an extremely hot pan. This was one of my favourite dishes so far--really light, perfect for summer, and made using sustainable fish. 

This week I had the absolute honour of watching A graduate from his Phd. My two contributions to the day were doing an extra loud scream for him, with friend N, as he was handed this most prestigious of qualifications, and, more credibly, making him a graduation cake, and so making my first foray into sugar craft. I haven't used a recipe for a lemon cake in years--I usually just chuck some juice and zest into a sponge mixture, so wanting to improve my technique, I made this recipe for lemon cake. I scaled it back by a third. It was quite a lot of effort, but worth it for the occasion! And the sponge was very nice, though I say so myself--it had a huge citrus hit. Now, my intention for the icing was to make a beautiful skyscape to represent A's freedom and future. However, sugar craft is harder than I thought, so what I ended up with looked like the background to a child's cartoon; perhaps it's not too disgraceful for a first attempt, though. 

And finally, stuffed aubergines, from the August issue of Olive. These came from the 30 minute supper section. Now, I love aubergines, they are my favourite vegetable; Sam thinks they are as enjoyable to eat as slippers. I'd never done aubergines stuffed with cheese, or under the grill and not in the oven. The goats cheese and tomato filling was really tasty. However, I grudgingly agree with my other half, on this occasion, that aubergines when grilled in halves are somewhat slipper like to eat (I gave up halfway through my second half), they are best roasted slowly in the oven, without a shadow of a doubt.

More next week, it'll probably be made with the products of bin diving as I have spent all of my wages on a handbag.

Friday night treats

So I promised when I posted on Sunday I'd email and say how the summer pudding turned out. Well  here it is in the bowl...

And here it is, in one piece, out of the bowl (admittedly, I made an error when I expected the juices to soak against gravity and dye the bread at the top, or bottom when it's turned out.









And here is a slice of it, all ready to eat! It was very nice, the bread was lovely and gooey and the sharpness of the fruit cut through the curry takeaway which we ate to celebrate the finale of The Apprentice. (I am still happy that Tom won.) Next time, though, I think I'll add a smidge more sugar.

Finally, a picture of the maturing fruitcake, which is smells fantastic. I'd also like to add that my thumbnail is not dirty, I just caught some crumbs on it when I turned the cake over! I'm most hygienic at all times in the kitchen.

A less than triumphant return

Welcome back to tales of my culinary experimentations. I had implied, when I decided to have a blog break, that there might be changes to the blog, but actually what I needed was a week eating my favourite pasta dishes and flapjacks (not together) to re-energise myself to complete the 111 recipes.

Having rid myself of pastry as a culinary enemy, via making all sorts of variations of it for this project, I seem to have met another nemesis (fans of the film Unbreakable will be aware every hero needs a nemesis): wholemeal bread. I made another attempt at it last Sunday. In truth, I both wanted to make myself a successful loaf of non-white bread and rid myself of the kamut flour which I bought in January and now had precisely no idea what to do with. It promised me a creamy wholemeal loaf. It delivered a lumpen chunk of bread, which behaved like soda bread in that it was obvious it wouldn't be nice when it cooled. And I followed the instructions on the back of the pack to the letter. It doesn't matter, it was very nice as an accompaniment to soup, and I now have some much needed room in a baking cupboard which is groaning under the weight of flours, sugars and preserved fruit. I am sure that I will have another go at bread using non-white flour, and succeed.

Now to fro-yo, as Sam tells me I am not allowed to call it. I don't buy The Times, I haven't for over 18 months, but I caught a glimpse of a special on frozen yoghurt which seemed to suggest it had only recently been invented--I vividly remember it being available in Teeside Park cinema, not known for its cutting-edge cuisine, in the early 2000s. However, let's not stray into the hideousness of News Corp and their irrelevant publications, and say I wanted to use my ice-cream maker, but did not want the cream and egg yolks of the ice-cream recipe I made a couple of months ago. So I attempted frozen yoghurt, from this website. I really wish that this were a success story. I do. I wanted a delicious snack with no fat. The truth is I have made a solid lump of yoghurt ice which won't scoop, snap, carve, or yield to hammering. Fail.

I made the frozen yoghurt to go with a summer pudding. The summer pudding is currently maturing in the fridge and shows no sign whatever of being a failure--the bread is pink and the fruit smelled and tasted very nice when I put it in. I got the recipe from Woman's Hour, a programme whose podcasts I often listen to whilst I do my dry-as-a-camel's-arse day job. The chef pointed out the real seasonality of redcurrants, which leads to their reasonably brief appearance in shops, at which point I coveted both summer pudding and redcurrants, so took the opportunity of guests coming tonight to make one. I shall let you know if it slides out of the bowl in one piece tomorrow.

So, that's all folks, for this week, save to update you that Grandma's cake is maturing beautifully and I have nearly crammed in a half bottle of brandy during its 'feeding' sessions. Same time next week. *Goes shopping for cream to go with the summer pudding.

Winging it

So I promised to report all flops and failures as well as the romping successes. Well, one has snuck in this week--see if you can spot it. All of the dishes have a running theme this week: I didn't have a recipe for any of them. I know, I know it says on the top of this blog that I'll be trying out recipes, but if you think I am so anal as to keep strictly within semantics so rigidly you must either never have met me, or this is your first time here--if so, welcome. ANYWAY, these were all things I hadn't made or cooked before.

Sam and I were going out on Saturday night, poverty had decreed that this week we would try and live on our stores for a bit (we were well-stocked), and what we had in the house was sausages and potatoes. However, sausages and potatoes are not the foods for the warmest day we had had in WEEKS. So I created a hot sausage and potato salad. I did start Googling recipes for this, but really...it's a salad: the point is you put in bits you like and think will go well together, then eat. Now I am rather cautious about feeding Sam salads. Not because he will dash it to the floor, tell me salad is the food of girls, and enquire where his manly pie is, but I worry that it won't fill him up, and I'll see him apologetically hunter-gathering in the kitchen for digestives. I thought, though, a salad that contained both sausages and potatoes might do the trick. And it did: I just served sliced grilled sausage with new potatoes on a bed of spinach and baby plum tomatoes, in a mustardy, vinegary dressing. I can't think why I hadn't done this before: I am not an unadventurous cook. I think this is the best way to eat sausages and not feel filthy afterwards!

Now for the failure. This blog is a sort of shit sandwich--as in the uncouth term for being in the office and having your less-good feedback embedded in the better stuff--I am doing this to hope that this one slips in here between two things that really work so you'll forget about it. So this week's flop was an artichoke. I've long been a fan of these on top of pizzas and eaten with a fork straight out of a jar, and I was curious to see what a freshly cooked one would taste like, so when I saw them on sale in a branch of a certain Northern chain of supermarkets, I bought one; it cost £3, but nevermind, I thought, it is gigantic.

Not so: after I had removed stalk, scary-looking outer leaves and choke (horrid fluffy looking stuff which sticks painfully in the throat if eaten), and blunted a knife and generally made a mess, I was left with the teeny tiny heart, which I rubbed with lemon juice in an attempt to stop it browning. I then boiled and boiled for just over half an hour as advised by friends and the patronising woman on this video. Having fished out the brown mess I poured over some dressing and served. It was mushy down the bottom, and tough round the sides. I came as close as I have done to producing something utterly inedible. Even Sam, who is a gent at all times, deemed it a failure and looked relieved when I followed it with a soup he likes.

Anyway, I want to divert your attention from that failed attempt at cooking vaguely unusual vegetables and tell you about my marvellous frappucino cake. The last time I had anything to do with coffee cake I was still living at home, and made it with something called coffee essence which came from an ancient bottle of my mothers--and tasted NOTHING like coffee. So I brewed some strong coffee and made a three-egg cake batter (replacing half the butter with vegetable oil--in part for health reasons, in part due to a lack of butter) and sloshed about two tablespoons of coffee in. It did rise in rather an odd way (producing a slightly off-centre dome) but I suspect this was down to using self-raising flour as much as anything.

To give it the feel of a frappucino coffee, I split the cake and put a layer of caramel in--I do have a penchant for summer coffee drinks, and I thought this would do quite well to emulate them. I then finished it off by plastering it with a thin layer of butter-cream, again with some proper coffee in it. It was very nice, though I say so myself, moist, coffee-tasting and completely made by the layer of caramel.

So it's goodbye for a couple of weeks now: I want to go away, refresh what I'm doing here, and come back with something good to read!

Easy days

So after last week's day-long cake extravaganza for a cake that isn't even finished yet -- I was sloshing brandy over it this very morning -- this week has seen some dishes which require little effort.

This year has given me the ability to make delicious home bread, which I had to keep reminding myself of when I made Delia Smith's quick and easy wholemeal loaf. Well, yes, it was quick and easy, but I think that may have been the problem. There is no kneading in this recipe. This should have been a warning, as kneading stretches the gluten in the flour and allows bread to rise and become generally soft and nice. However, like so many home-cooks in this country, I believed Delia would never trick me or lie, so when she said don't knead it, I didn't. In fairness the piece I had warm was fine. However, the next day I made sandwiches out of it, and I swear I burnt approximately as many calories chewing it as are in a slice of dense brown bread. And look at the picture in the link: mine looked EXACTLY like hers. Pah. (Her recipe for apple charlotte is still a winner though.)

I love Jamie Oliver. I can't cook a 30 minute meal in 30 minutes, and some of his early books have slightly odd amounts of ingredients, but I have enjoyed everything of his which I have ever made. And so, running mistrustfully from Delia, I opened Happy Days with the Naked Chef for solace. Sam and I had the great joy of a Friday night dinner with AC, CB, A and J, and we wanted to show off. Sam did his award-winning risotto for a starter and chicken stuffed with all sorts of nice things for a main, and I was in charge, first of all, of side dishes; the cookbook has a recipe for runner beans with tomato sauce.

I don't like runner beans very much, so I used green beans. Also I prefer the Silver Spoon's method of of making a tomato sauce, which involves adding crushed garlic, a pinch of salt and sugar, in my case a splash of balsamic, and a tin of tomatoes to a pan, putting the lid on, and leaving it over a low heat--don't touch, stir or anything for 15 mins. Then give it a stir to break them up, and then give them another 15 minutes, still with the lid on. This method means the tomatoes lose their tinned flavour and take on an intensely garlicky flavour. Splash the sauce over the beans, which you will have steamed with lots of olive oil. This recipe typifies why I love quite a few of Jamie's recipes, especially from the Naked Chef/Ministry of Food era: his recipes work very nicely as they are, but also adapt beautifully to personal tastes.

As Sam and I were showing off on Friday, there obviously had to be a pudding, and I found the answer to this in this month's Olive: Lulu Grimes's hazelnut tart with mascarpone and strawberries, (surely a better name than listing half the ingredients is possible!). It looked simultaneously not too much effort and show-offy enough for a dinner party. The hazelnuts go in the pastry, but I substituted ground almonds to no ill effect. The only effort in this recipe was making the pastry. And, for the first time in my life, I didn't find making pastry a hassle: my cooking is improving. Once the case had adequately cooled, I filled it with a filling of mascarpone, whipped cream, orange juice and zest (obviously these ingredients are carefully mixed) and then topped with macerated strawberries. Essentially, it is posh strawberries and cream in pastry--but there's nothing wrong with that when it looks so good, and there was not a scrap left.

The biggest cake you ever did see.

I read an article in the Guardian on Monday about how asparagus is about to go back out of season, and so naturally, this made me want some. I decided to give this recipe for asparagus with a tomato and feta salsa a shot as we had all the other ingredients in the fridge, and I do love feta cheese--I have deluded myself into thinking that it's healthy, even though I can taste all that salt! I decided to go for a fusion meal and make kofta to go with the asparagus, as they are a real favourite of mine. I'm afraid I haven't been clever enough to save the link to the recipe, essentially, however, it was mix lamb mince with some onion, cumin and mint, squidge round some skewers till kofta shaped, then brush with oil and cook for 15 minutes in a frying or griddle pan.

At the end of Monday, I was very glad I'd made this supper, it made the rest of the coming week feel a lot better. Nice food is always cheering. The asparagus side dish was light and the salsa was tangy and sharp and salty with feta. The kebabs weren't quite spicy enough, and could probably have done with some chilli (I don't think I have ever said that before) but they were tasty enough to keep me happy. I served with pitta bread, but forgot to photograph till I'd handed Sam his plate, so please excuse his thighs.

The faux North African theme continued on Wednesday, when A and H put in a most welcome appearance for the Apprentice (how did Jim get away with it this week, by the way!). I decided to make Olive magazine's harissa chicken and herby couscous. I can't possibly count another way to cook couscous towards my total, but I'm taking the chicken. I'm afraid it's not on the internet, just in the magazine. The recipe said wings, but I used thighs (I think I have mentioned before that I am not convinced that the meat on wings is worth the effort of gauging and scraping required to get it off the bones). Now these aren't marinated,  but grilled for 15 mins (turn halfway through) and then tossed in a coating of orange and lemon juice and zest, cumin seeds, maple syrup and harissa paste (see definitely not authentic!) and then grilled for another 15 minutes. 

I'd have never thought of adding the coating halfway through, but this way the sugar didn't burn and the acid in the fruit didn't destroy the chicken. This was an utter success; H gave it a 10 out of 10 (and then she suggested a rating system for blog dishes, but I don't think that my ego could take it!). The chicken was sticky and tasty and good, and this was a lovely light summer meal.

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So, from North Africa to North America and banoffee pie. Now this is my favourite pudding, but I have never made it before. We had some ripening bananas (overripe because I have decided I no longer like them for a snack) so I thought it was time to have a go at it. To save on calories, I made mini ones, as in the words of Marjorie from little Britain, 'if you cut it in half, it's half the calories, so you can have twice as much'. Anyway, I whizzed up six digestive biscuits in my food mixer till they were fine crumbs and then stirred in a couple of knobs of butter, I pushed this into three ramekins, and then sadly had to throw some out, so if you do this, only use four biscuits. They then went in the fridge for half an hour. I then spread Waitrose caramel sauce over the bottom, Carnation Caramel would do the same thing, and put some sliced banana on top of the caramel, and topped with whipped cream--150ml will be enough. I may sound arrogant, but they were delectable and so easy they are so going into my repertoire. 

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And finally.... A cake so huge it only fits in my oven by a hair's breadth. More than this, it is only one tier of the monster birthday cake I am making for my Grandma and cousin K (K, if you're reading this, your layer will only be marginally smaller and be incredibly chocolately). Grandma wanted fruitcake, I have never made fruitcake, till this afternoon, and I have never made a cake so large, or served anything in tiers. Anyway, I used this recipe and mixed it in the (thoroughly scrubbed, scoured and de-germed) washing up bowl, as the only receptacle large enough to take it. It took two hours to weigh, mix and deposit in my enormous lined tin (how tedious is lining tins? And this one needed a double lining inside and out). Oh and incidentally, if anyone you know requires a celebration cake, I'm hoping to make that my job in the medium future, and will be offering knock down rates for a while...

As it will spend the next few weeks maturing, I'm afraid I can't give a verdict on the taste, all I can say is that it smells like a nice fruitcake, and I am watching it like a hawk to ensure it won't need any carbon scalping off. This cake has been the most satisfying, but most labour intensive thing I've made (I mean that physically too--my arm ached so much, I thought it might fall off). However, love that is totally without condition is rare in life, I think most people can consider themselves lucky if they need to use both hands to count those who love them without requesting anything in return, and Grandma has loved and looked after 13 grandchildren in precisely this way, and I hope I'm making outsize cakes for her for years to come.