The Anti-Pasta

08/06 THE ANTI-PASTA

"Puttanesca is Italian for very few ingredients" - a one word recipe which i learnt early on while I read and got lost in a series of unfortunate events. From the moment I read that it took a life of its own until now whenever making pasta I hesitate to add anything more than very few ingredients. It is an unfortunate event that pasta is often drowned in red sauce popped from a jar, when pasta is really a stage for ingredients to perform.

In saying that I rarely every make a 'sauce' for pasta, more a dressing. Here it is really a mix of the very few ingredients left in the kitchen - a handful of marinaded mushrooms, the last tomato still clinging to the frail vine and a roaring chilli waiting to fire up. This also brings me to the second meaning of pasta puttanesca transcribed by Nigella as Sluts Spaghetti. Simply meaning that its usually made by us slackers who use leftovers and preserved ingredients to their last breath. 

I have to confess that reading about the Baudelaire orphans improvising a delicious, makeshift meal was the formative inspiration of this orphaned ingredient. I know that this isn't correct pasta alla puttanesca, it is a variation of the two translations the name inspires. Its what I had lying around... and there are nights when you're too lazy to go out looking, look closer to home theres always something in a pantry.

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

200g Pasta (any you have)
1 Tomato
1 Chilli Hot
100g Pickled Mushrooms (antipasto stuff)
1 Handfull Mixed Salad Leaves/Spinach/Roquette
Balsamic Vinegar
Salt + Pepper


What I did - Oven preheated to 180degrees

First salt a small saucepan full of boiling water - don't hold back. Add your pasta of choice and keep a lazy eye on it as it cooks. Slice the tomato into discs and throw under a hot grill, close to the top so that they will blister rapidly. Do the same with the chilli. The oils and juices in the two will release quickly as the surface scorches.

Cut the mushrooms in half (or smaller if they're larger than a button mushroom) and with their marinade add to a large bowl. Once the tomato and chilli are hot, massacre with a knife until they become a red mush then add to the bowl. Douse in a hearty slosh of balsamic.

The pasta should be ready, before straining the water add a handful of green leaves to wilt instantly (basil, spinach, roquette, salad leaves... anything). Sieve the pasta and greens well. Tumble into the bowl with the mushrooms and tie the whole lot together. The rough and frustrating tangle of pasta will sedate any stresses, and untangle a jumbled head. A tangle of unfortunate ingredients with a good heart.

JG

Poisoned Apple

24/06 POISONED APPLE

Apples are the embodiment of deadly beauty. Their eternal temptation and mystery are encapsulated in biblical mythology, Grimm faerie tales and endless reels of celluloid. I have always enjoyed believing in the far-fetched, if only for the fantastical stories told through the ages taking on a life of their own. A glistening apple instantly foreshadows doom, rich in waxy beauty.

To me an apple is both delicious and repulsive, I can't stomach the skin - I may be alone in this but it has grown into a dire aversion. Raw apples are always peeled of their poisonous skins. However something magical happens when they are cooked. Roasted or stewed with its skin and core looses all acrid taste (to me) and becomes its true darkly delicious form. Baked in a sugared, smoked whiskey they become burnished golden treasure waiting to be conjured from the oven. Time and willingness to accept mystery will transform this forbidden fruit - Before the poison.

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

13 Red Apples
1 tbls Raw/Dark Sugar
1 shot Whiskey
1 tsp butter


What I did - Oven preheated to 160degrees

Line all the apples up for the chopping block. Don't peel them, just cut out their core then into even-ish pieces. Tumble into a cast iron pot, or ceramic baking dish (so long as it has a lid). Shower the sugar over the apple pieces, then douse them with a heady shot of strong whiskey. Stir them around so that the sugar and whiskey poison each of the apple pieces. Nib the butter in the centre of the pot so that as it slowly cooks the butter will melt down and caramelize with the run off sugar and whiskey liquid.

Bake for 3-4 hours. Don't stir. Don't look. Don't dare do anything. Just let it simmer away, the apples will wither and darken, the sugary-poison filtering through completely. Turn the oven off and leave to cool overnight. You can eat this hot, but the heat from the sugar and alcohol kills the flavour. Best to have cold, with a substantial dollop of cream. The apples will have transformed into a darkly mischievous treat, daring you to take another bite.

JG