mauritian butter bean & lamb curry

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they hanker for some of their mum’s cooking. No matter what nationality the mother may be, what their signature dish is, or how often you get to see them, it’s an occurrence that I’m sure most can relate to. In my instance, it’s a regular occurrence. This is probably because my mum is an excellent cook and I grew up with some seriously great food coming out from her kitchen, many of them from her homeland Mauritius.

Mauritian food is one of the great Creole cuisines and is a combination of native French, African, Chinese, Portuguese and Indian, with many of the dishes created unique to the island. Some of the most common ingredients used in Mauritian recipes are tomatoes, onions, garlic and chillies. Spices are also a big part of the cuisine with turmeric, cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves also used liberally. 

While the Indian population has had a huge influence on the cuisine, it’s worth pointing out that Mauritian curries are unique. They rarely contain coconut milk and interestingly, often feature what are more typically known as European herbs such as thyme. 

Due to the multi-national inhabitants of Mauritius along with the fact my mother spent a good amount of time living in Italy when she was younger, she is able to churn out international plates of exceptional flavour – Mauritian, Indian, Chinese, Italian, French. I have a list of my favourites that I can’t get enough of: her roast beef with garlic and cloves and macaroni cheese; achard (a Mauritian pickled vegetable salad); lasagne – without a doubt the best I’ve ever had, anywhere; coq au vin with white whine; chicken chow mein; escalopes with a parsley and parmesan coating served with spaghetti – I could go on.

This weekend my palette was after some spice, and my mum’s famous butter bean and lamb curry was calling out to me. A phone call during the week asking for the recipe in an email, a quick trip to the supermarket, and I was ready to indulge in a fabulous afternoon in the kitchen while Matt was out, blasting some old school Alanis Morissette and singing at the top of my lungs whilst stirring pots and pans. One of my favourite ways to while away the hours of a weekend.

Mum's Mauritian butter bean and lamb curry with carrot salad

Packed with flavours from the island – delicious and wholesome. Serve with the dressed carrot salad for the zingy freshness.

Makes 5-6 portions

For the curry paste
Whole bulb of garlic
1 tbsp cumin seeds
8 cardamom seeds
8 cloves
1 inch of fresh tumeric root (or 1tsp tumeric powder)
2 x thumb sized piece of fresh ginger
10 curry leaves
2 heaped tbsp curry powder
1 tsp garam masala
2-3 chillies, deseeded and sliced finely

For the rest of the curry
250g dried butter beans (soaked over night in lots of cold water)
4 bone in leg lamb steaks (or approximately 450-500g of any diced lamb)
1 large white onion thinly sliced
1 x 400g tin of chopped tomatoes
Coriander to serve
Vegetable oil

For the carrot salad
1-2 carrots per person, grated
Small bunch of coriander
Lemon
Extra virgin olive oil

You first need to make your curry paste – you can do this earlier in the day or even the night before and keep it covered in the fridge to help you get ahead.

Dry fry (no oil) the cumin, cloves and cardamom in a non-stick pan on a low-medium heat until they become aromatic – keep moving them and be sure they don’t burn. Remove from the pan and grind in a spice grinder to a powder.

Tip If you don’t have a spice grinder, that’s fine. Be sure to grind them quite finely in a pestle and mortar before continuing. Whether using the spice grinder or the pestle and mortar, remove the cardamom husks after.

In your pestle and mortar, grind the garlic, ginger, turmeric, chillies and curry leaves along with your ground spices. Adding some rock salt to the mortar will help with the grinding process, as well as season it. 

Tip I grate my garlic, turmeric and ginger first using a fine grater as my pestle and mortar is not heavy enough to pulp it on its own - must get a big stone one.

Once it’s quite smooth, add the curry powder and garam masala and mix well. Add a little water to the mix until you have a paste. Your curry paste is now complete.

Tip If you have a home made mix of curry powder or garam masala, then do use it. Otherwise, quality pre-mixed ones are readily available from supermarkets.

Tip If you like your curries hot, by all means add more chillies. I prefer a hint of heat, rather than crying over my dinner – my threshold is not that high. The two little chillies I used are of a very hot variety, and they provided enough fire for me. Matt would have liked it hotter, so I may add a third next time.

After soaking the beans overnight, thoroughly rinse them in lots of cold water and put in a large pan. To prepare your meat, chop them into cubes and remove any gristle or fat they may have. Put the chunks in the same pot as the beans – there’s no need to brown them first.

Tip The bits of bone in the legs that are left after cubing your meat is for adding flavour to the curry rather than eating. Although if you’re partial to bone marrow (the part my dad loves best), then feel free to suck it out when the curry is done – yum.

Cover the beans and meat with cold water (up to around 1-1.5 inches above the contents) and bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer. Lots of scum will float to the surface – keep skimming this off every time you see it with a large metal spoon. Don't pour this down your sink as it's mostly fat - tip into a sandwich bag and discard.

Stir occasionally so nothing gets stuck to the bottom, and cook with the lid on until the beans are partially done but still too hard to eat. If the water gets low, top it up. You want to end up with the water covering the contents by about an inch once this stage is complete – too much and your curry will be too watery. Remember it’s easier to add then take away and you can always add more later.

To start making the curry, fry your onion in some hot oil in a separate pan until brown (but don't burn them) – I use a wok at this stage as it’s non-stick and holds a large volume. Add your curry paste and cook for a few minutes on a low-medium heat – again, don’t let it burn. Add the can of chopped tomatoes and cook for another 5 minutes or so.

Once your curry paste and tomatoes are cooked, pour the whole contents of the beans and meat into the wok – water and all. Stir well. You then want to cook the beans and meat in this curry paste for the remainder of the time it takes for the beans to become nice and soft – probably 45-60mins, but keep checking. If the liquid gets low and the beans are still not cooked, add a little more to just cover them again.

Tip You can decide on your curry consistency at this stage – if you do want it more saucy, then add water accordingly. I like my sauce quite thick so once the beans were cooked, I kept the lid off and let the sauce reduce down until I was happy with the consistency.

In the meantime, make your carrot salad. Grate your carrots, add chopped coriander, olive oil and lemon to taste. I love lemon, so I add quite a lot and find the fresh sharpness works very well with the packed flavour from the curry.

Once your beans are adequately soft and your sauce has reached your desired consistency, it’s ready to bowl up. Sprinkle with some fresh coriander and serve alongside the carrot salad and either some chapattis (my preference) or rice (good for mopping if you ended up with a more liquid sauce).

The lamb comes out incredibly tender and the wonderful creamy consistency of the beans is beautiful, with the carrot salad providing a welcome sharpness and crunch to the meal.

This curry freezes very well, so make a vat of it and save some portions for when you’re hankering after mamma’s cooking again.

Afiyet olsun.

Edible Christmas Gifts - I

I get a lot of satisfaction from making or creating things. It’s part of the reason I enjoy cooking – the idea of concocting a dish completely different from its component parts which on their own would be far less exciting, is a big draw. Alongside the glaring fact that I like to eat.

It’s also why I enjoy gardening, particularly fruit and vegetables - the Spring-time ritual of applying an inanimate seed to some dirt, adding water, giving it light and time and that resulting in the beautiful slow motion animation of germination, growth, bud, bloom and the setting of fruit is immensely gratifying. Not to mention the produce is quite handy for my first point.

Then there are textiles and sewing. I can’t walk into a shop and look at a cushion without giving it the once over and proudly exclaiming ‘£25?! I could make that myself’ (not always the case, alas). 

And so I put my money where my mouth is, and I attempt soft furnishings. I have so far been successful in making several cushion covers (one even from an old unwanted cardigan); a pair of curtains for one window in the main bedroom (lined, I might add) – the second window is still patiently waiting to be dressed; personalised Christmas stockings for Matt and I; and I am about 9 patches into a kingsize patchwork quilt (that project is a labour of love). Knowing I can make things very similar to those priced quite highly in the shops just by trying it out and watching a few handy youtube videos, has a huge satisfaction factor. Making things, being creative, working with my hands – all activities that appeal to me.

And so I see Christmas as the green light to get out the craft kit, get the apron on, and start cooking up some edible homemade gifts. What’s particularly appealing about this is I can incorporate my love of cooking with my penchant for craftiness in their packaging and decoration. These are little stocking fillers to give to friends and colleagues on the last few days at work before breaking up for the holidays, and to leave a little something with family when squeezing in fleeting visits on Boxing Day.

The sneaky tip over into December marks the time to start on the chutney. They need about 1 month to develop their flavour before being consumed, so now is a good time to get them done and ticked off the list.

This is a recipe I’ve used for the past couple of years now and it goes down a treat.

Caramelised red onion chutney

This goes incredibly well with strong cheeses and biscuits – get your fill in before ‘normal eating’ returns post festive period. Very simple to make.

Fills about 5 small-medium jars

Preparation
You will need five small to medium glass jars with their metal lids. You can either purchase kilner jars specifically, or if you happen to keep jars when you finish with their contents, use those. Screw tops are preferable to flip tops as the seal is stronger. The jars I used were smaller than jam jars – small caper jars, jars with mustard, small honey jars etc.

These jars will need to be sterilised and need to be filled when both the jars and the chutney are still hot. You can either put them through a cycle in the dishwasher and time it so that your chutney is ready once the cycle is complete. Or you can put the jars (lids off) in an oven at 180C for at least 20 minutes. The heat from both of these methods will kill of any germs that could contaminate your delicious chutney contents. Hand washing them in hot water will not suffice for sterilisation, but be sure to do this anyway once you’ve finished with their original contents.

10 large red onions
1 large red chilli
2 bay leaves
Olive oil
200g brown sugar
150ml balsamic vinegar
150ml red wine vinegar

Slice your onions very finely. You want to be sure you first slice off enough top and enough of the root to get rid of any parts of the onion that are tougher. Then remove two layers of the outer onion after the initial paper layer (this is why you want large ones to begin with). It’s the remainder that you want to slice up. Slice your chilli in half, remove the seeds, and chop the rest of it finely.

Tip The easiest and quickest way to slice this volume of onions with a consistent thickness is with a v-slicer or mandoline slicer. This is the one I use – worth putting on your Christmas wish list if you don’t already have one. It can of course be sliced with a knife, it will just take a bit longer.  If you are using a v-slicer or mandoline slicer, be sure to slice the onion in the holder in half with a knife first so the slices don’t come out as rings, otherwise they’ll be too long to spoon out of your jar.

Add your onion, bay leaves and chilli to a large pan with some olive oil and cook over a low heat with a lid on for a good 20-30 minutes, or until they soften and become sticky and a bit stringy. Add a sprinkle of salt to help draw out the liquid. I find a wok is very  useful for this as it holds a large volume and distributes the heat to more of the onions than a large saucepan would.

Once the onions are soft and sticky, add the sugar and vinegars and simmer for 30 minutes or so with the lid off, until almost all of the liquid has disappeared and the chutney is thick and dark. Be sure to give it a stir now and again.

Pour the chutney into your hot, sterilised jars – try to not let any touch the tops of the jar where the lid screws on. If you do, wipe with clean kitchen paper. Push the contents down so any large air pockets are filled. Put your lids on and allow to cool. After a while, push the pop button of your lid in if it has one – it should stay down. This happens because the air in the jars has contracted whilst cooling down. When the lid is first opened after this, the button should pop indicating freshness as it would have done with its original contents.

Keep your jars in a cool dark place for the chutney to develop their flavours for at least a month before consuming.

Et voila – my first set of Christmas stocking fillers complete.

There is then the matter of decorating these little gifts. You can let your creative juices run free here, using up any scrap bits of crafty stuff you might have lying around. I plan furnish mine quite simply. I will top the jars with a square of material – I have some red and green gingham along with some festive looking check left over from last year. 

They will be secured with basic brown jute string tied around the neck of the jar, and from them needs to hang a label. I have a wad of brown paper that I have saved from various packaging received in parcels throughout the year (did I also mention I like to recycle and re-use?) and I’m almost certain I can turn these into neat looking labels. Turns out after a bit of origami style experimenting, some well concealed cellotape and a hole-punch, it’s actually fairly easy. If you’d like to replicate, I’ve included the instructions below.

Take a rough square of your chosen paper and fold it about two thirds of the way up. The height you are left with will be the total length of your label.

Fold the top two corners down to the centre until they meet.

Fold the two edges in to create a label shape and secure with a bit of sticky tape folded over into a loop so it's sticky on both sides - this way you can conceal the tape.

Turn it over and you have a label. Use a hole punch to create a hole for the string. Repeat for as many as you'll need.

I hope these will go down a treat for the lucky folk receiving them.
Don't forget to make an extra jar for yourself.

Alfiyet olsun.

buttermilk & blueberry pancakes with crispy bacon - recipe

Tonight I need to squeeze into a clingy burnt orange floor-length piece for my work’s black tie Christmas ball. In order to do so, it would make sense to hold off any large volumes of food today. Especially as the evening will include a three course meal my dress will need to contend with. Lettuce for lunch then, right?

Sod that. It’s the 1st of December. It’s a Saturday morning. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. It’s an excuse for Matt’s infamous pancakes. And lots of them. 

Yes please.

Matt’s American buttermilk and blueberry pancakes with crispy bacon and maple syrup

Makes around 12-14

120g plain flour
120g fine polenta / cornmeal
1 egg
100ml milk
300ml buttermilk 
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp baking powder
Large handful of fresh blueberries
Pinch of salt
Pinch of cinnamon
Quality bacon rashers
Canadian maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 180C. Lay your bacon rashers on a sheet of baking paper on a baking tray. On top of these, lay another layer of paper and another baking tray to weigh them down – this will prevent the rashers from curling up while cooking.  Cook in the oven until crisp.  

Meanwhile, sieve the flour into a bowl and add the polenta. Add the remaining dry ingredients – bicarbonate of soda, baking powder, salt and cinnamon.

Whisk the milk, buttermilk and egg in a separate bowl with a hand whisk for a minute or two to get some air into it, until it has thickened and looks frothy.

Tip You can quite easily make your own buttermilk if you don’t want to make a special trip to purchase it ready made – have a look at No knead to prove to find out how.

Slowly pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture and add the blueberries, gently combining with the whisk as you go until all the dry ingredients are combined.

Tip At this stage you don’t want to over mix the mixture as this will result in tough pancakes.

Heat a heavy based non-stick frying pan on a medium-high heat for 2 minutes.

Rub a stick of butter over the area of a circle in the middle of the pan.

Pour batter (use a ladle) into the pan and cook one pancake at a time. You can make them as big as you want, but remember the longer they cook the drier they will become.

Matt stood a large cookie cutter in the pan and poured the batter into them to keep the shape and thickness.  When the surface of the batter starts to bubble, flip it over.

Keep each pancake warm on a plate in a low oven while you’re making the rest – stack ‘em high.

You will be presented with delicious thick pancakes that are soft, light and fluffy on the inside. The addition of the polenta or cornmeal is traditional and creates a crisp surface. The salty bacon, sharp sweetness of the blueberries and the caramel flavouring from the maple syrup is a perfect combination.

Enjoy with a cup of strong coffee and no agenda for tight outfits that evening.

Afiyet olsun.

red pepper and feta soda bread

There are few things that work against freshly homemade bread - it mostly has a lot going for it. Getting a puff of gorgeous steam aroma in your face when breaking a cob straight out of the oven; the flavours of the baked goods filling the house; knowing exactly what’s gone into it - no preservatives or additives; making it specific to your requirements by adding whatever flavouring you see fit; a sense of accomplishment in transforming a few basic key staples into something of substance and sustenance; not to mention the difference in the quality of taste and texture compared to supermarket offerings. If all of this is true, then why doesn’t everyone make it every day?

It’s because there is also some level of skill and more importantly, time, that is required when making most breads from scratch.  You will often need to knead the dough.  This involves working and stretching it either by hand or using an electric dough hook, making the dough smoother and softer and developing the elasticity of the gluten in the flour. It also evenly incorporates air and any additional ingredients.

You will then usually need at least two proving periods. This follows kneading and is a rest stage that allows the dough to rise, caused by the activated yeast creating air bubbles which in turn expands the dough. The gluten developed in the kneading stage holds on to the gas bubbles.  The dough will often double if not triple in size and will take a couple of hours to do so.

I’ll admit, to a lot of people this probably sounds like a lot of work and too much hassle just for a loaf. Which is an understandable argument – it does helps to actually savour the process itself.  But what if I told you that there was a delicious bread that could be knocked up and in the oven within 15 minutes, that required no kneading, no proving, no weird ingredients, and still tasted delicious?  I think you would jump at the chance to try it out, and rightly so. Welcome to the world of soda bread.

Soda bread uses baking soda as a leavener in place of yeast, and so does not require the kneading and proving stages normal loaves need to allow the yeast to get to work. It has four basic ingredients: flour, buttermilk (don’t be put off by this – you can use a standard milk and lemon juice replacement – see below), baking soda and salt.  The reaction between the buttermilk and baking soda produces bubbles of carbon dioxide, helping the dough to rise.  You’ll be left with a fairly dense, moist and hearty result. Great for a winter day.

Sweet roasted red pepper and feta cheese soda bread

Blink, and you’ll miss it being made. A great staple to turn to if you're out of your daily.

Makes one loaf
This recipe is very adaptable - you can add grated cheddar and chopped raw onion, or chopped pitted olives and sun-dried tomatoes, or any other flavour combination you come up with. I've chosen sweet roasted red peppers from a jar and the leftovers of some feta I had.  You can also add some wholemeal or malted flour to the mix (as long as you keep the same overall quantity of flour) for added texture.

500g plain white flour (add other flours if you wish but keep the overall amount)

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 tsp salt

400ml buttermilk (see Tip below)

3 red peppers from the jar

Half a pack of feta

Tip If you want to knock this up without having to get any special ingredients, you can very simply make your own buttermilk with two ingredients you are likely to already have – milk and acid – either lemon juice or white vinegar. I’ve never purchased ready made buttermilk for my soda breads, although it is readily available in supermarkets if you want to. All you do is add 1 tbsp of your chosen acid to 1 cup, then fill the rest of the cup with milk.  Repeat this and pour the contents of the cups into a jug until you have the volume you need (i.e. 400ml). Leave to stand for 5-10 minutes at room temperature. The milk should look curdled.  Stir et voila – buttermilk.

Heat the oven to 200C and line a baking tray with baking parchment or silicone paper.

Put all the dry ingredients into a large bowl and mix well, then stir in the buttermilk to form a sticky dough so all the flour is incorporated. Tip the dough onto a lightly floured surface and shape it quickly into a ball with floured hands.

Put the dough on the baking tray. Mark it into quarters using a sharp knife cutting deeply into the bread, almost but not quite through to the base. Dust with some flour.

Bake for 30 minutes or until the loaf is cooked through - it should be golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on the base. Leave it to cook on a wire rack.

Consume within one day, ideally. I suspect it will be gone within one hour.

If you want a light and fluffy homemade loaf, then I’m afraid soda bread won’t tick these boxes and you will need a yeast based recipe.  And that should be something to embrace and enjoy. But if you want something quick, satisfying and equally delicious, then this is an absolute fail-safe and is almost impossible to mess up.

A fantastic loaf for baking novices and the tenured alike. Do it tomorrow.

Afiyet olsun.

Lima in London - Review

braised lamb shoulder / coriander & pisco jus
/ black quinoa & white grape

I’ll be the first to admit there isn’t a huge amount I know about Peruvian cuisine, other than what the odd Facebook holiday snap has taught me from friends who have undertaken the obligatory year of travelling before starting any real work (pangs of envy fully acknowledged), opting for South America rather than the equally well-trodden Far East. Which is that they eat guinea pigs (what a philistine).  But what I did know was that I certainly would not turn down the opportunity to learn more, an offer in the form of an invite to visit Lima (alas, not the actual city) in London with two very good friends.

Our table was booked for 7pm and on arrival, I was greeted by a young woman very pleasing to the eye who directed me through the narrow channel running along the length of the bar at the front of the restaurant.  It lead to about 15 tables at the rear against an understated but sophisticated neutral backdrop, interrupted by a burst of colour from a piece of abstract art on the back wall and a scattering of bright Inca patterned cushions.

Lea & I

The menu was brief – a telling sign in the confidence of its content.  Yet it still managed to result in many minutes of painfully toying between the offerings - their highly appraised sea bream ceviche or duck crudo to start? The crab or confit of suckling pig for main? They were fighting it out on the page and in the end I ordered none of the aforementioned, instead succumbing to the octopus and the lamb. Along with one of Peru’s signature cocktails of which we all indulged in – a pisco sour.  These were served light and frothy, depositing the remnants of a milky moustache from the whisked egg whites whilst leaving the mouth reeling from an invigorating, lip-puckering sourness with every sip. I could very easily start every morning with one of these.

The meal began with a presentation of a delightful amuse-bouche along with our bread basket, in the form of a shot glass sized serving of wonderfully creamy and coating pale yoghurt with the characteristic tang of acidity from one of quality, shocked with a bright green coriander sauce.

The starters soon arrived and were quite glorious in their presentation – my octopus was braised and served on a bed of white quinoa alongside lilac polka dots of an incredibly intense olive sauce.  The charred edges of the meat that caught the pan were crisp and concentrated in their flavour, marrying very well with the fruity familiarity of the olives.

braised octopus al olivo / white quinoa
/ botija olive bubbles

duck crudo / algarrobo tree honey /
shaved fois gras / ghoa cress

Lea was keen to sample the ceviche of which there had been many favourable references to in various reviews. Whilst looking delicate and dainty in the bowl, I knew nothing about what it contained and immediately assumed a bout of food envy on Lea’s part when compared to the presence of Mel’s silky duck slithers, or the chunky charred tentacles on my plate.  

I duly and politely dipped in a spoon to sample the unassuming milky liquid housing pieces of barely opaque fish. And, well – the mere half teaspoon of this nectar was enough to nearly blow me right out the front door with its chop-walloping splendour.  The barrel gun impact of sourness and salt with an allium and chilli presence exploded on the palette, the tongue smacking the roof of the mouth in reflex to such a taste sensation.  Coupled with the spanking fresh sea breem it contained and the crunch of the salty corn kernals for texture, it was really something else - a whole paragraph dedicated to a dish I didn’t even order says something. 

I subsequently found out post-meal what a ceviche is – at its most basic it is raw fish marinated in citrus, salt and seasonings with the acid in the juice denaturing the protein in the meat in a similar way that cooking does. Or in other words, something I need much more of in my life.

All hail the mighty ceviche
- with sweet onion skin & inka corn

Plates were cleared and our mains were delivered while I was still preoccupied with thoughts about the dish that got away. However, I had a new task to address sitting under my nose and in need of attention – a neat hunk of braised lamb shoulder lavished with a coriander and pisco jus, alongside black quinoa and white grape. 

The meat was beautiful - a concentrated and slightly sticky crust encasing soft and moist flesh providing almost no resistance against the fork. The snippets of sweet from the grape worked very well in contrast to the deep flavours from the lamb. 

Mel’s confit of suckling pig was generous in its portion size with a sticky richness and a perfect amount of bite from the puy lentils, and Lea’s crab was an absolute riot of natural fresh colours, almost arresting in their iridescent quality.

crab / purple corn reduction
/ huayo potato / red kiwicha

Lea ordered the dulche de leche ice cream which was pleasant when I sampled it, particularly with a touch of the set Amazonian maca root honey smeared onto the side of the bowl. I had the cacao porcelana which is essentially very similar to chocolate fudge – the crunch and teeth-sticking quality of the blue potato wafers worked well with the silky texture of the chocolate, along with the hint of sharp sweetness from the mango. 

Mel ordered the Andean kiwicha (another South American super grain like quinoa) with sheep’s milk, purple corn and pineapple jelly, and a cinnamon crust. Contrary to all the other dishes, this one didn’t look as appetising on the plate.

dulche de leche ice cream / beetroot emulsion
/ amazonian maca root honey

cacao porcelana 75% / mango & hierbabuena granita
/ blue potato crystal

Whilst still good, I felt the desserts were the weakest of the courses. However, the sheer unadulterated joy provided from the previous dishes was so all-encompassing that it really didn’t matter. The meal, my company, and the whole evening was a full on pleasure steam train ploughing through the Peruivian landscape and absorbing all it had to offer. It was a sublime way to spend a cold Monday evening, and I shall without a doubt be returning.

Afiyet olsun.

A bit of crumpet

Yesterday was a long day. One of those involving far too much public transport. Around four and a half hours on a train from London to Manchester and then back again.  The return journey included the passengers from a previous cancelled train so every seat was taken, and then some.  They blasted the heating, the train manager had an incurable bout of verbal diarrhoea, passengers were coughing and sneezing all over the shop, I was very tired, and still travelling into the late evening – it was the last place I wanted to be.  Add to that one and a half hours of London tube travel and I was more than ready to call it a day.

But there was a silver lining – today I would be working from home. While sweating it out on the train with the warm, stale air circulating the generous sniffles and coughs around the carriage (I really don’t like public transport – respect to all the folk who endure it on a daily basis), I needed a distraction, and so started to think about what I could rustle up the next day. I fancied exercising some baking skills - something I could get proving before starting work at 9am and that would be ready to eat at lunch - I then also recalled the slab of excellent French butter I had in the fridge. I quickly came to the conclusion that whatever I did make would need to be eaten warm with a knob of the soft pale gold leaving a glistening trail along its journey, paying a nod to gravity by gently cascading over whatever baked goods I would decide on. The perfect platform for the butter to take centre stage?  Why crumpets, of course.

Crumpets

Makes about 20

This is one of Paul Hollywood’s recipes from How to Bake. And as he rightly references, crumpets are in fact cooked in a pan or on a griddle, so it’s not technically classed as baking.  However, it does include yeast.  So in my eyes, this is still baking but the method of cooking is just different.

450g plain flour
1tsp caster sugar
14g instant yeast
350ml skimmed milk
350ml cold water
1 tsp salt
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
Sunflower oil

Sift the flour into a bowl and add the sugar and yeast.  In a pan, heat the milk until just warm – about blood temperature, 37C.  

Tip If you don’t have a thermometer, you can still tell if you have the desired temperature - if you put a finger in the milk and it feels neither cold nor warm, then that will be because it is close to your own body temperature i.e. the desired temperature.

When the milk has been warmed, add the water to the milk.  Then beat the liquid into the flour to make a smooth batter.



Cover the bowl with cling film and leave it to sit in a warm place for a couple of hours.  I always use a very low oven for the proving stage of any baking, at around 40C – it’s likely to be the warmest place you’ll have in your house and means this stage happens quicker.  The batter should more than double in size before dropping back down, and will be full of holes.

Beat the salt and bicarbonate of soda into the batter with a wooden spoon, then leave to rest for 10 minutes.

Heat the largest frying pan you have (or even better, a griddle if you have one) over a low heat.  Dab a little oil onto a piece of kitchen paper and rub over the inside of some crumpet rings as well as the hot surface of the pan, then stand the rings in the pan.

Tip Standard cookie cutters can be used for the rings.  It’s unlikely you’ll have a few of the same size, so feel free to use ones of different sizes as I did.  If one side of your cookie cutter is crimped, put the flat side against the pan.

Pour enough batter into each ring to half fill it and cook for around 6-8 minutes (depends how thick they are), until the surface is set and filled with holes.  In the picture on the left, the top and bottom crumpets are ready to be turned over.  Remove the rings and turn the crumpets over. The first side should be well browned, the second just golden. Repeat to cook the rest of the batter.

Serve straight away with butter, or leave them to cool then toast before eating.  Once cooled, these can also be frozen.

Tip If you have trouble detaching the ring from the crumpet, use a sharp knife to slice round the edge of the crumpet and it should come away. Don’t worry if some batter is left on the ring.

Tip The more rings you use cooking each batch, the quicker the cooking process will be.  However, it’s more likely the size of your frying pan will be what restricts your speed.  If you have two frying pans, I’d get them both cooking 4 rings simultaneously to half your cooking time.

Warning - I take no responsibility if you end up gobbling each one with butter as it leaves the pan and there are none left for the people you live with. Apologies to them in advance.

Alfiyet olsun.

Carbonara

There are few feelings more enveloping in their warming comfort on a stiffly bitter evening than those conjured up by a big plate of hot and steamy carbs – specifically pasta.  In my opinion, the best pasta dishes are the most simple.  If you have some wonderful al dente linguine, parmesan, quality olive oil and black pepper, there’s often not a lot else you need to achieve full satiety.

With pasta comes the obligatory associated calories (of which I try my best to keep at least a lazy eye on), and so I regard these dishes as treats rather than regular occurrences.  But when I do throw my hands up in defeat after a long day at work, with a rumbling stomach doubled over in anticipation at the very thought of rolling in the digestive presence of an over-sized portion of pasta, there are three winter recipes I almost always turn towards.  One is pasta with chestnuts, mushrooms and a parsley pesto; the second is a Turkish pasta dish involving halloumi (a white cheese from Cyprus) and dried mint (I’ll save those two for another day); and the third is the classic and well-loved pasta carbonara.

Bacon with eggs is a flavour combination older than time itself, and one of the best.  Couple that with the filling qualities of pasta and the nutty saltiness of a hard Italian cheese, and you’ve got a plate of satisfaction able to transport anyone to their happy place.   

The recipe in this post is Matt’s take on the classic, and classics are there to be interpreted and provide a base for experimentation.  But if you want to be a purist about this, then by all means please do – I fully support it and it is the recipe I was brought up with when my mother would regularly make the dish.  To do so, just omit the parsley and mushrooms.  But if you fancy at least an attempt at the inclusion of one of your five a day (albeit a sorry one) to keep the guilt pangs at bay, as well as the wonderful extra flavours they bring to the plate, then keep them in.

There are a few additional rules I would strongly recommend.  These again lean towards a purist stance, but I favour them as I believe they provide the best taste sensation:

Rule number one – No to cream
The carbonara sauce should NOT include any cream, only eggs.  It’s an unnecessary addition that only renders the dish heavy and too rich whilst adding nothing to the flavour.  The common theory is that it was introduced by restaurants looking for a short-cut to achieve the creamy quality of a carbonara sauce, without having to contend with the perfect timing required when adding eggs to a hot pan and ending up with a creamy sauce as opposed to pasta alla scrambled eggs. If you find a restaurant that doesn't use cream in its carbonara, return.

Rule number two – Pecorino over parmesan
Use just pecorino. Or use a combination of pecorino and parmesan. But don’t only use parmesan.  It’s just a bit too overpowering in its cheesiness and claggy when melted when a lot of it is used (the quantity of cheese as well as the obligatory quality is necessary for this dish) .  Pecorino is made from ewes milk and is slightly lighter than parmesan, with an excellent level of saltiness.

Rule number three – Panchetta over bacon
Contrary to the photograph, you really want to source some quality pancetta instead of bacon.  Bacon is more of a last resort, but it’s an acceptable alternative when it is all you have in the fridge (as in this case) and an evening trip down to a decent supermarket is unlikely.

Rule number four – No black pepper? Forget it
You need black pepper, and lots of it.  Not having freshly ground black pepper to hand is in my mind a situation severe enough to not bother even starting the dish. Also, what sort of kitchen doesn’t have black pepper? If this is your kitchen, shame on you my friend.

Linguine Carbonara alla Matt

Makes enough for two people.

200g linguine
2 x large free range eggs, beaten
Chestnut mushrooms, roughly chopped
Panchetta or bacon – one pack
Handful of flat leafed parsley, very finely chopped
30g of finely grated pecorino
Freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil

Bring a large saucepan of well salted water to the boil. Add the linguine and cook until al dente.

Add the grated cheese to your beaten eggs in a bowl and ensure all fully combined.  Add lots of black pepper to this egg and cheese mix.  When you think you’ve added enough, add some more.  A bit more following this, would still not go amiss.

Meanwhile, cut the pancetta into lardons (if it didn’t already come that way) or the bacon into lardon sized pieces.

Heat a large, deep frying pan over a medium-high heat (woks are good for this), add the oil and mushrooms and cook for a few minutes until they’ve expelled their juices.  Drain off the mushroom juices into a bowl, then add the pork to the pan and fry until crisp and golden. 

Add a couple of spoonfuls of the pasta water to this pan to help the cooking sauce along, and add your parsley.

Drain the pasta (don’t worry if it’s not completely dry), tip it into the frying pan with the pancetta, mushrooms and parsley, add the mushroom juices back to the pan and cook for a couple of minutes to allow the pasta to absorb the juice flavours.

Remove the pan from the heat (this is important before the next stage), then add the beaten egg and cheese mixture, tossing everything together very well.  The heat from the pasta and mix will cook the eggs enough so that they’re not raw, but not scrambled – a wonderful creamy and coating consistency.

Season with additional black pepper and more shavings of the cheese.

Eat immediately in warmed bowls while piping hot.

A plate of food surely divinely intervened.

Alfiyet olsun.