roast red pepper, spinach and goats cheese tart

It’s the last couple of days before we’re off for a week. Off to a bustling city full of heady spice, labyrinthine alleyways and turbaned potion sellers.  I’ll tell all on my return – but safe to say I’m expecting some excellent material to write about when I do.

The process of getting to the destination you seek out when it comes to travelling is more often than not plagued with mediocre meals and insipid flavours. 

The majority of us (who can’t justify flying anything superior to economy) are either faced with a Boots meal deal to take on the plane (is there anyone who doesn’t choose Innocent for the drink?) or worse, decide to risk the in-flight meal - a brick of a chicken breast which when hacked into is as hot as the sun, alongside an array of sorry excuses for vegetables that have been microwaved into another dimension.  Top that with a dessert so sweet you won’t get a wink of sleep and a stodgy side roll. Delicious.

So I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands by taking a picnic, of sorts.  I’m after something that we can have to eat the night before we leave, can sustain us en route to the airport and on the flight, is easily transportable, is in separate portions, and can be eaten cold. And if possible, something that demonstrates a bit of skill.

The word ‘tart’ comes to mind.

Roast red pepper, spinach and goats cheese tart

Makes 8 slices

A bit like a quiche but with a healthier yoghurt and egg filling rather than cream and egg – great hot or cold.

For the shortcrust pastry

Makes enough to line a 23cm/24cm (9”) tart tin.  Make sure your tin is loose bottomed.

You could buy a ready made pastry case for this and just work from the filling onwards. But why do that, when you can make it yourself.  It’s one of the easiest pastries there is, and it’s much more fun.  All you’ll need is a rolling pin.  This recipe for shortcrust is from Paul Hollywood’s How to Bake.

250g plain flour
Pinch of salt
125g chilled unsalted butter
2 medium egg yolks
50ml cold water

The golden rule when making this pastry is not to overwork it.  The less handling time it gets, the more crumbly and melt-in-the-mouth it will be when cooked. So once it’s brought together, avoid any further handling.

Put the flour and salt into a bowl and mix together.  Add the butter cubes.  Rub the ingredients together lightly with your fingertips until all the cubes are incorporated into the flour and you’re left with a breadcrumb consistency.

Add the egg yolks and being to mix with your hands, then slowly add the water and mix until a paste is formed that leaves the sides of the bowl clean.

Tip the pastry onto a lightly floured surface and shape into a ball – remember not to overwork or handle it too much.  Flatten the pastry into a rough disk with your fingertips (this will help with rolling out later), wrap in cling film and keep in the fridge for as long as you can – minimum half an hour, over night is really best.

Once chilled, take it out and place on a lightly floured surface.  Roll it out so it’s larger than your tart tin – you want it to line the base, sides and have extra hanging over the sides that you can cut off.  The thickness of the pastry should be just short of the width of a pound coin.

Carefully roll the pastry onto your rolling pin to help you lift it and lay it over your tin. Using your knuckle, push the pastry right into the corners and the sides.  Slice off any excess with a sharp knife while rotating the tin.

Now you need to blind bake the pastry case.  This process partially cooks the pastry before any filling is put into it.  This is needed if the filling would take less time to cook than the pastry, which is the case in this recipe. Preheat the oven to 180C / fan 160C / gas 4.

Prick the pastry all over with a fork to prevent the pastry bubbling and going out of shape – do lots of holes and right to the edges.  You want them as deep as you can without breaking through the base.  Chill the pastry for at least 15 minutes – the colder it is at this stage, the less it will shrink from the sides during baking.

Get a large piece of baking paper much bigger than your tin, and grease one side with butter.  Place the sheet over the tin butter side down, and push right into the sides. Now fill this paper with baking beads (available in cookware shops and good department stores) or uncooked rice.  This weight will prevent the pastry bubbling and ensure an even cook.  Ensure the paper is touching the pastry all over, right up to the edges.

Bake for 10-15 minutes until the pastry is cooked and opaque.  Carefully remove the paper and beans / rice (if any bits are bubbling up at this point, prick again with a fork) and return the empty tart case to the oven for 10 minutes or so, or until the base is dry and crisp and the top edges just start to turn golden.  Leave in the tin and continue with the recipe.

For the tart filling

2 red onions, finely sliced
3 roasted red peppers, quartered (roast them yourself until soft or buy a jar of ready roasted to save time)
4 tbsp balsamic vinegar
200g sliced goats cheese – try and get something French
Fresh thyme leaves
3 medium free range eggs
150ml Greek yoghurt (get the strained Total brand as it has less water content – I used the 0% fat one)
2 tbsp toasted pine nuts
Small bag of spinach
Olive oil
Seasoning

Gently fry the onions in some oil on a very low heat for as long as you can give it – you can do this while you’re blind baking your pastry.  The longer and slower they cook, the stickier and sweeter they will be.  For the last few minutes, add the balsamic vinegar and cook until it’s reduced and you’re left with caramelised onion marmalade.

Spread this over the base of your pastry.  Arrange the red peppers and slices of goats cheese, and sprinkle with the thyme leaves.

In the meantime, wilt ¾ of the small bag of spinach in a pan – put 2cm cold water in the pan, add all the spinach, put the heat on medium and keep the lid on.  They’ll wilt in no time.  Drain the spinach and using kitchen towel to soak up as much of the water as possible.  Then chop the spinach up a bit.

Mix the eggs with the yoghurt, add the cool cooked spinach and the toasted pine nuts. Season well with salt and a good amount of black pepper.  Pour this mixture over the tart filling.  Bake in the oven until the filling has set and the pastry edges are golden brown. Serve hot with a side salad of rocket or spinach, or enjoy cold and on the move.

crisp and dry bottom

The goats cheese cuts through the sweetness of the onions and peppers, and the pine nuts provide welcome texture.  The pastry is just wonderful – thin, buttery, crumbly and completely dry.  No soggy bottom – Mary Berry would be proud.

This tart is quite versatile in the sense that you could fill it with anything that doesn’t have a high water content, and then pour the egg and yoghurt mixture over it.  For example roasted artichokes, sun dried tomatoes, charred asparagus spears to name just a few.

Once you have the pastry nailed, you can experiment with any number of fillings.  The yoghurt and egg mixture on top is a great replacement for the high fat cream and egg mixture of a standard quiche, especially if you use a low fat variety of yoghurt.  

I don’t believe there’s any detriment in using the 0% fat Total yoghurt over the full fat – this is a good (but rare) example of there being little difference between the two.

My preference of unsalted butter whenever I make pastry is the President butter from France.  It’s so beautifully pale that when I’ve chopped it into cubes, I must consciously remind myself not to mistakenly think it’s cheese and scoff a piece.  

The aroma it gives off not only when being baked, but even at the very first stage of rubbing the butter into the flour with your fingertips, is completely delicious.  You’ll easily find it in any supermarket.

Sliced and protected with some foil, this tart would do well on its short voyage to the airport. How much of it realistically makes it out the door in the first place though, is a different matter. Two pieces seem to have already disappeared whilst writing this entry.  Dammit.

Alfiyet olsun.

Au pistou

Some of the greatest meals start with the most humble of ingredients. ‘Chop and fry an onion’ – the beginnings of a rich coq au vin, a wholesome cassoulet, or any number of countless recipes that set off on the same promising foot.

A pan full of these humble ingredients along with some herbs creates a key staple used across the board as a base of substance – vegetable stock.  An excellent example of an often overlooked but fundamental component of many dishes.

A vegetable stock in its traditional form is a mass of liquid that has taken on the flavour of the vegetables and herbs that have been gently simmered in it.  Other ingredients are then cooked in the stock to provide them with a base of flavour that can then be built upon. 

But I do have an issue with this:

‘Strain the liquid’.

After the vegetables have been simmered, the liquid is strained and reserved – this is the stock.  There is no longer a need for the vegetables – they’ve given you their clean and fresh flavours and you are now expected to turn them out to the cold.  And why not – a carrot, a stick of celery, an onion – they’re two a penny.  Who cares? 

I do.

I take the straining of the liquid personally.  You’ve got the flavours you’re after. There is no real necessity to discard all that fibre.  And so, I often don’t.

This is a great one-pot wonder recipe that lets the flavours get on with their job.

Bean and Vegetable Soup au Pistou

Makes about 3 portions

300g dried beans of your choice (my favourite are butter beans)

For the veg stock
2 sticks of celery thickly sliced
2 carrots thickly sliced
1 white onion chopped into chunks
3 cloves of garlic 
3 bay leaves
3 sprigs of rosemary
10 whole peppercorns
Olive oil

For the pistou / pesto
A pistou is a cold sauce made of garlic, basil and olive oil and is the French version of pesto - the main difference is it doesn’t contain pine nuts like pesto.  It’s more traditionally stirred into soups but you could absolutely use pesto as a replacement. If you do however, I urge you to make your own – it’s so incredibly easy, much cheaper than buying a jar of it ready made, and the freshness will fight its way through and have a dance on your tongue.  

Pistou
Basil leaves
Garlic
Olive oil
Parmesan 
Salt and pepper

Pesto
As above, but with toasted pine nuts.

Soak the beans in plenty of cold water over night. Rinse well and drain.

Place into a large heavy based pan, add plenty of cold water and bring to a simmer.  Remove the scum that will appear on the surface as it comes up the boil.

Once the water is boiling, add all the vegetables, herbs, a good glug of olive oil and a decent amount of salt.  Bring back up to the boil and then reduce the heat so you are left with a comforting and very slow simmer – blip blip.

Keep it like this for 1.5-2 hrs giving the beans a stir now and again to prevent them sticking to the bottom of the pan.  It’s ready when the beans are tender and have no resistance to a bite.

To make your pesto / pistou, mash all the ingredients in a pestle and mortar or wazz it with something electrical – I often use my stick blender. Then add a little oil at a time until you have the required consistency.  It’s that easy.

You’ll notice I haven’t specified how much of each of the sauce components to add as it’s completely down to your taste.  My advice would be to start with 1 clove of garlic, a heaped tablespoon of toasted pine nuts, a small handful of basil leaves, a little pile of parmesan gratings, a good glug of oil and a big pinch of black pepper.  Then adjust according to your taste.

Once your soup is ready, pour into a bowl and dollop a tablespoon of your delicious home made sauce and stir through.  Serve with a crusty roll.

This is a simple, wholesome and nutritious soup with the delicate and fresh flavours of the vegetables taking centre stage.  The buttery and creamy consistency of the beans provide a wonderful texture, and the pungency of the garlic sauce with salty cheese will give every mouthful a little song to sing about.

Making these for work lunches as I did, may have been a little misguided. Raw garlic and afternoon meetings don’t marry as well as one might think. Just as well I have considerate colleagues.

chocolate fondant

I am once again left with egg yolks going spare from the egg white cookies of yesterday.  Readers may recall the option I took the last time I was faced with this predicament – crème brûlée   This time, I’m going with chocolate fondants.

These are bleedin’ excellent.  They’re incredibly easy to make, very difficult to mess up, and look the business. Is there anyone in the world that doesn’t love a gooey middle? What’s even better is they're perfect make ahead desserts.  They can be popped into the freezer after being made up and cooked in the oven straight from frozen.  Excellent if you want to get ahead for some dinner party planning.  But even better than that – simply knowing you have them in stock for when you’re hankering for some sin.

Chocolate fondant

I challenge anyone to resist them.

45 mins prep plus 15 minutes cooking

Makes 4

Some melted butter for brushing
Cocoa powder for dusting
100g good quality dark chocolate
100g butter
100g golden caster sugar
2 whole eggs and 2 egg yolks
100g plain flour

Tip I find the Stork available in the plastic tubs are perfect for cake making – it’s already soft so it's great for brushing.  If you’re making pastry, that’s when you want cold hard butter bought in blocks.  Not what we want this time.

You first need to get your moulds ready.  Get four standard sized ramekins and coat the whole of the insides with butter.  I tend to use a clean kitchen towel for this.  Then pop in the freezer.  After they’ve all been given a coat, get them out and give them another coat of butter.

Now coat the insides with cocoa powder.  The best way to do this is tip a load into a ramekin, hold it so it’s almost on it’s side, then rotate the ramekin so all of the sides are coated in the powder.  You don’t want to leave any part uncovered.  Do this over your pot of cocoa powder so any that falls out falls back into the pot – no need for waste.  This preparation ensures they’re easy to get out once cooked.

Melt the chocolate and butter.  Recipes always tell you to do this over a bowl of simmering water – I see this effort as unnecessary.  Put the chocolate and butter in a bowl and microwave for a few seconds at a time – give it a good stir each time you check it.  As long as you don’t over heat it, this is a much quicker way of melting chocolate.  The risk here is that if you leave it in too long, the chocolate will overheat and split – so keep an eye on it.

In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, yolks and sugar together for a good 10 minutes until they’re thick and pale and the whisk leaves a trail.  I would recommend using an electric device for this.  

Sift the flour into the eggs, then beat together with a wooden spoon or with the beater attachment of an electric stand mixer.

Pour the melted chocolate and butter into the mixture in thirds, beating between each addition so the mixtures are fully combined before adding more.  You’ll end up with a loose cake batter.

Take a large spoon and equally fill the four ramekins with the batter.  Chill for at least 20 minutes before cooking.

Tip At this stage, you can cover them with cling film and pop them in the freezer.  When you want to cook them, simply carry on as stated and add a few more minutes to the cooking time.

Heat the oven to 200C / fan 180C / gas 6.  Place the fondants on a baking tray and bake for around 10-12 minutes.

You’re looking for a crust to have formed on the top, and they should just start to come away from the sides of the ramekin.  When they’re done, remove from the oven and let them sit for a minute before turning them out.

I find the best way to get these out is to get a sharp knife round the edge to ensure they’re fully detached from the sides.  Then with the ramekin in an oven glove, gently tip it onto a plate.  They look much better the right way up, so I then tip this back onto another plate.

I’ve made these many many times and have never had a problem with teasing them out.  If you do – it doesn’t matter.  They’ll still taste incredible.

Enjoy with a glass of milk and a sullied conscience.

Alfiyetolsun.

The Egg

Tonight was one of those nights in culinary terms, that many will be familiar with.  After a hectic day at work and a rumbling stomach by 5pm,  I try to recall the odds and ends idling in the fridge on the way home to see if my mind can conjure a concoction of substance before I reach the front door.

Whilst the vast chambers of the fridge are mostly vacant this evening, there are some glimmers of light. The things of note are leek, pancetta, some taleggio that’s been hanging about.  Along with a box of eggs.

The humble egg.  One of the key vertebrae along the backbone of fundamental ingredients in the culinary world.  Possibly the single most versatile food item that has ever existed.

Almost ubiquitous in its occupation - you’ll find them hiding in cakes, pastries, desserts, breads, quiches and sauces.  Then there are the dishes that proudly shout about their presence – omelettes, egg and soldiers, scotch eggs, hollandaise, carbonara, egg fried rice, egg and chips to name a small few. They’re used for binding such as in meatballs or burgers.  As raising agents in Yorkshire puddings or soufflés. They’re used as a wash to give colour to biscuits and pastry. 

The various ways in which eggs can be cooked all have one thing in common – they are quick.  Try them baked with spinach and anchovies; fried sunny side up sitting proud upon a tower of crispy rashers; scrambled with smoked salmon, dill and a squeeze of lemon on rye; soft boiled with asparagus spear soldiers; hard boiled, quartered and scattered alongside large crunchy croutons over little gem with an anchovy olive oil sauce; poached, pierced and gently cascading like sunshine lava over a fresh and toasted muffin.

A promise of such wonder encased within a thin and fragile cocoon. When digesting the full and ranging repertoire of the egg, it’s easy to forget that this exquisitely simple yet intricately complex unit is made up of just two components – the yolk, and the white.

The whites are whisked to add structure and stability, producing miraculous meringues and marshmallows. The yolks add moisturising fat which help to emulsify, giving baked goods a smooth and creamy texture and are essential for custards and mayonnaise.

I cracked open three of these wonders, gently whisked with a little milk, added to sweated leaks and crispy pancetta, sliced the tallegio and flipped one half over the other.  Et voila -  an omelette.  Your fridge’s way of mopping up the remnants within and presenting you with something of note. The weary cook’s ultimate and often leaned on fail-safe. 

All hail the wondrous egg.

Alfiyet olsun.

An oily Italian

The types of bread I particularly like are the ones you can glance at and instantly recognise what they are from appearance alone.  That is a baguette.  That is a focaccia.  Those are chapatis.

Last night’s cookbook perusal was in search for such a recipe, and that could be mixed and proving prior to starting work at 9am in my office for the day, my dining room.  Paul Hollywood threw one up I hadn’t tried before and that I certainly wouldn’t turn away for lunch – ciabatta.

A notoriously wet dough precedes this bread.  And for once, Paul heavily advises to use an electric mixer because of this.  The extra water in the dough turns to steam during the baking process, creating the signature air pockets and open texture.  All of this water makes the mix very sloppy. But boy do you get a result at the end.

Ciabatta

Makes 4 / prep 2 hours / bake 25 minutes

Light-textured bread with a crust packed full of flavour.

500g strong white flour, extra for dusting
10g salt
10g instant yeast
40ml olive oil
400ml tepid water
Fine semolina for dusting (optional)

Lightly oil a 2-3 litre square plastic container.  It’s important to use a square tub here to help shape the dough.

Tip the flour in the bowl of the mixer and add the salt to one side and the yeast to the other side, so they’re not close.  Add the olive oil and ¾ of the water and begin mixing on a slow speed.  As the dough starts to come together, slowly add the
remaining water. Then mix for a further 5-8 minutes on a medium speed until the dough is smooth and stretchy.

Tip After the 8 minutes, the dough is incredibly stretchy and elastic.  It reminds me of the party cobwebs you can spray on windows at Halloween, fitting for this time of year.  Take a moment to have a poke – not many doughs look like this.

Tip the dough into the prepared tub and spread it so it reaches all sides and corners.  Cover with cling film and put in a very low oven (the most effective and quickest way to prove, I find).  Leave it there until it has doubled or trebled in size.

When it has done so, remove and turn the oven temperature up to 220C.  Line two baking trays with baking parchment or silicone paper.  If using baking paper, dust with lots of the strong flour.

Dust your work surface heavily with more of the flour and add some semolina too, if you have it.  Carefully tip out the dough (it’s pretty wet) onto the work surface.  There is no need for knocking back, in fact try not to handle it much at all.  You want to keep as much air in the dough as possible.

Coat the top of the dough with more flour and/or semolina.  Cut the dough in half lengthways and divide each of those in half lengthways also.  You should now have four long pieces of dough.  Stretch each piece a bit lengthways and place on the prepared baking trays.

Tip It’s a bit tricky transferring these long pieces of dough onto the trays, because they’re so floppy and sticky.  I used two long knives and slid them under each end, trying to lift them like that.  That worked for the first couple, but not for the last two.  I managed to use one knife and my hand in the end, rolling part of one end onto my hand and lifting the other with the knife.  Either way, you’ll get them on the trays in the end.

Leave the dough to rest for 10 minutes, then bake for 25 minutes or until the loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped.  Cool on a wire rack – try and eat some warm though.  Not difficult. 

I’m incredibly pleased with these.  I’m pleased with how they’ve turned out – they look exactly as they’re supposed to, with the signature air pockets.  They also taste fantastic – a deliciously flavour packed crust with a chewy texture, alongside a light and fragrantly olive middle.  I’m also pleased with how they photographed, sliced and ready for my lunch.

In addition to that, this is a bread recipe that only requires a single prove unlike most, resulting in a far shorter time until the end result.  This can only be good. Especially when you’re like me and think about your lunch while eating dinner the night before.
Alfiyet olsun.

Fruit and nut cake

It’s the weekend – rejoice.  Like most, if not all of the weekday workers in the country, I look forward to my weekends with great anticipation.  My reasons are, in no particular order: lie-ins, Homeland and ample time for cooking endeavours.   Therefore multiple entries over the two days of the weekend are likely to become regular occurrences – I hope this is something my readers look forward to getting used to.

A fruit bowl can be a sorry looking sight at times.  When first filled with produce straight from the shop, they are colourful and inviting corners of the kitchen with the promise of fresh snacks, tangy flavours and wholesome satisfaction.  More often than not however, they look considerably past their best – flaccid, wrinkly, bruised, unloved.  Time to accept their fate and turn them away towards the bin - right? Wrong. Never does a fruit bowl beckon me with such calling than when their fragrance just begins to turn to ferment – my single interpretation translating to cooking them up in a dessert.

On Saturday I was faced with such fortune – five paltry looking pears sitting in the bowl helping to ripen the last of my initially insipid garden tomatoes.  And they did a good job, turning them fragrant and a fruity red after a few days.  The pears were a failed attempt to eat one a day for the week as part of my 5-a-day. Plans not having gone quite accordingly, I resort to the only natural alternative.  Make a cake with them.  

With head cocked in contemplation, eyeing up what had been five fine beacons of seasonal produce, I recall a recipe I recently thumbed over from the November issue of delicious magazine.  And from one of my most favoured cooks – Nigel Slater.

A pear and hazelnut cake

Nutty sponge meets fruit crumble for a delicious combination.

There will be enough for 8-12

175g softened butter
85g golden caster sugar
85g light muscovado sugar
80g skinned, toasted hazelnuts
2 eggs
165g self-raising flour
½ tsp ground cinnamon
Few drops of vanilla extract

For the pears
A large juicy lemon
750g pears (5-6 pears)
3tbsp caster sugar
Ground cinnamon

For the crumble
100g plain flour
75g butter
2bsp demerara sugar and a bit extra for the crust
A little more cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 160C / fan 140C/ gas 3 and line the base of a 21-22cm square cake tin with baking paper.

For the pears, squeeze the lemon into a small saucepan.  Peel the pears, cut them into small chunks and place into the lemon juice – it wills top them browning.  Bring the juice to the boil and turn the heat down to a gently simmer.  Scatter over the sugar and a liberal pinch of cinnamon.  Cook with the occasional stir until the pears are translucent and tender.  They should be soft enough to pierce with a skewer with little or no effort.  Try not to colour them beyond the palest gold or to let the juice boil away – you’ll want it for later.

Tip If your pears are particularly ripe as were mine, note that they will need less cooking time before they’re the desired tenderness.
Make the cake – beat the butter and sugars in a food mixer or with an electric hand whisk until a light and pale coffee colour.  This will take a good five to ten minutes, longer if done by hand with a wooden spoon – also an option.  Meanwhile, grind the hazelnuts quite finely.  You can do this in a food processor or with a hand blender and its snug container.

Tip Don’t over grind the nuts or they will become oily.  Also the less fine you grind them, the more texture you’ll get in the sponge.  It’s really up to personal tastes how fine or course you want the nuts.

Break the eggs, beat them gently to just mix the white and yolks and gradually add to the mix with the beater on slow.

Tip If the mixture begins to look like it’s curdling (common when adding eggs to the butter/sugar mix, especially if all added at once) – don’t panic. Just add a tablespoon or two of the flour and it will bring it back to the right consistency.

Add the ground hazelnuts, flour, cinnamon and a couple of drops of vanilla extract. Allow the mixer to go round a few more times on slow to fully combine all the ingredients until smooth.  Scoop out the mixture into the prepared tin (where bowl scrapers come into their own) and smooth it flat.
Lift the pears from their syrup with a draining spoon, reserving the juice.  Place the pears on top of the cake mixture.

To make the crumble topping, blitz the flour and butter to crumbs in a food processor. Add the demerara and mix lightly.  Remove the processor bowl from the stand.  Add a few drops of water and run a fork through the mixture – this will cause some of the crumbs to stick together like small pebbles.  This will make for a more interesting mixture of textures.  Scatter the crumble loosely over the pears, followed by a little more demerara and a pinch of cinnamon.


Tip There is no necessity in having a food processor to make this crumble.  The desired sand like texture can be achieved by rubbing chunks of the butter into the flour with your fingertips.  Although the processor does achieve this in seconds, it does also create extra washing up.  One of life’s many compromises.

Bake for about an hour and check if the sponge is done with the skewer method.  Remove the cake from the oven and set aside. Bring the reserved pear and lemon juice to the boil for a couple of minutes until there is just three or four tablespoons left.  Trickle it over the surface of the cake and allow to cool.

The reason this cake is so good is because it brings together two wonderful elements – sponge and fruit crumble.  The sponge is light, moist and satisfying with its buttery flavour cleanly sliced through by the tartness of the pear and citrus.  Nigel’s pebble crumble suggestion is wonderfully fitting, providing little nuggets of crunch – a welcome presence amongst sponge and cooked fruit.

The other reason this cake is good is because Matt doesn’t like cooked fruit in dessert.  This means that I get a whole slice plus extra crumble with every portion.  Seeing as I think the fruit upwards is the best part of this cake, that’s a winning situation for me.

I think an apple pie should be next on the list.  

Alfiyet olsun.

Fagioli foray

When on the hunt for a filling and wholesome meal fit for an autumnal evening, I often reach for an Italian or Spanish cookbook, and often look for something containing beans.  

Beans are truly excellent.  They hold their own in the flavour stakes whilst having ample capacity to absorb the flavours surrounding them during the cooking process.  They require little interference (to cook – just soak and boil) and have a nutritional value that rivals the amount of iron found in beef.  They’re high in fibre, low in cost and they leave you feeling duly satiated whilst being incredibly versatile.

My most favoured specimen of the musical fruit is the butter bean.  The first half of its title is true to form – when cooked, a wonderful creamy buttery texture is revealed and the taste is that of mild nuttiness.  Every time I try one of these beans to see if tender, even when I fully know they’re not yet cooked, I never fail to exclaim to the deaf ears of the kitchen ‘but why do butter beans taste SO good?’.

The meal chosen for the weekend was a polenta and borlotti bean bake (I used butter beans instead) chosen from Two Greedy Italians eat Italy – the book from what I believe was the second series.  In my opinion, the best cooking show on the box.  Carluccio and Contaldo - two exceptional characters with their genuine friendship and passion for the culinary excellence their country produces shining through every moment on screen.

‘Mamma mia, why I am cooking SO good?!’ exclaims Contaldo, with hands raised towards the heavens in his wonderfully thick southern Italian accent.

I don’t know Gennaro, but please continue to do so.  It’s a sheer pleasure to watch.

Particularly welcomed with the last series was their foray into the regions of Italy producing recipes that one might not usually associate with the country.  For example cured herring with apples from the lakes – a historically Scandanavian associated plate.  Sauerkraut with sausages or a potato and cabbage bake from the mountains – German staples.  The recipes from the coast will likely be those more usually associated with the reaches of Italy frequented by tourists – pasta with mussels, seafood risotto with courgette flowers, braised squid in tomatoes to name a very small few.

There’s a whole range of recipes earmarked for endeavour and I look forward to getting stuck into those from the cooler mountain regions over this winter.  

Polenta e Fagioli Borlotti al Forno – Polenta and borlotti bean bake

A real ‘slow food’ dish to be savoured on winter evenings.

Serves 6

200g dried borlotti beans (I used butterbeans as I already had them in stock)
5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 celery stalk, finely chopped
1 leek, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
80g panchetta, roughly chopped
10 cherry tomatoes
100g quick cook polenta
Large handful of parsley, finely chopped
80g fontina cheese, cubed (I used taleggio as couldn’t source fontina.

Soak the beans over night in plenty of cold water.  The next day drain, rinse thoroughly and cook in lots of fresh water until tender – about 40 minutes.  Drain and set aside.
Fry the pancetta until they begin to crisp.  Add the onions, celery, leek and carrot and cook for a couple of minutes.  Add the tomatoes and cooked beans and mix together.  Remove from the heat.

Preheat the oven to 200C/Gas 6. Make up the polenta according to the instructions on the packet – ensure you keep stiring to avoid any lumps.  Remove from the heat, stir in the parsley and cheese and season to taste. Add about ¾ of the bean mixture until all combined.

Grease the bottom of an oven dish with some butter.  Pour the polenta mixture into it, topping with the remaining beans.  If you’re feeling a bit decadent, add a few dots of any remaining taleggio / fontina to the surface.

Cook in the preheated oven for about 15 minutes until golden.  Remove and serve with some lightly dressed green – perhaps peppery watercress or rocket.

Tip  For a meal like this, I would always favour soaking dry beans over night rather than using those ready cooked from a tin.  It does require some level of foresight but the flavour and texture is completely different. Save tinned beans for a quick meals with little planning – such as with a can of tuna, red onion and watercress with crusty bread for a swift lunch.

Alfiyet olsun.