Friday, 22 July 2016

The Leftovers




23/07 THE LEFTOVERS




When there is nothing in the fridge, and all you have are half leftovers from dinner the night before there is only one solution. The master plan which only involves one ingredient to make it the leftovers work for you. An egg. You can tie any old scraps together to make something deliberate and delicious with just one egg. 

There is no wrong way to do this, or indeed a right way. This is just the a result of the leftover greens I had, and a need for something fried and molten. The salad was a mix of greens with a lemon/oil dressing, clinging to the last of its life with its sharp tang. To add more sharpness some balsamic was splattered on the egg, which oozed with the yolk and became an instant hot dressing. Dive headfirst into the fridge, leftovers are life. 


Ingredients (all approximate) - 

1 Egg

1/2 Fennel
300g Brussel Sprouts
200g Broccolini
2 Baby Cos Lettuce
1 Avocado
50g Parmesan
1 Lemon


What I did - 

No point going into great detail about the salad, because it can be substituted with any salad left wilting in the fridge - or indeed some cold roast vegetables. This salad was a big green slap in the face. Steamed broccoli and sprouts added hot to a bowl of chopped lettuce, fennel and silky avocado. The dressing was grated parmesan, lemon juice and olive oil emulsified together by the heat from the steamed offerings.

The next day it was still crisp - fennel is a hardy vegetable - and only had softened the rest slightly. I wouldn't go after a two day old version, a haggard bowl is never appealing. Now for the saucy bit. The egg was cracked into a frypan with a small slug of oil, fried to perfection (about a minute and a half), then slid off the pan onto the greens.

Dusted with salt + pepper and polka dotted with balsamic vinegar. Hard to resist plunging a knife deep into the yolk - so don't. Sacrifice the egg for survival.

JG





Tuesday, 12 July 2016

Sesauliflower!




13/07 SESAULIFLOWER




When a craze takes hold is it hard to shake - at the moment a craving for sesame oil and hunting Pokemon. With the world suddenly obsessed with Japanese pop culture - at a level not seen since the millennium - this hybrid evolved. This is all the power up you will need to go out into the night for hours on end to hunt down creatures all over the city.

Not hard to make, this only need a couple of ingredients - vegetable drawer leftovers. The cauliflower has been transformed by the extreme heat of the iron griddle. A most underrated kitchen weapon. The sesame seeds and oil boost the flavour to its maximum. You only need to add chilli and salt to taste then get out there, gotta catch 'em all.


Ingredients (all approximate) - 

1/2 Cauliflower
1 Cos Lettuce (smallish)
2 tbls Sesame Oil
2 tsp Sesame Seeds
1 tsp Chilli Powder (or to taste)
Salt

*I made this again for 2, doubled the recipe and added an any-way-you-like-egg on top


What I did - Oven preheated to 200degrees

The only rule of the griddle is you never oil the griddle. Slice the Cauliflower into 1cm(ish) slices, the smaller pieces will crumble off but no matter. Lie them flat on the top of the iron ridges. Liberally snow large flakes of salt over, followed by 1 teaspoon of sesame seeds then the red heat of the chilli powder. Finally lubricate lightly with 1 tablespoon of Sesame oil, just to force the heat through the white tufts. Blast in a 200 degree oven for about an hour until the white vegetable has transitioned through a warm ivory to a pale gold.

Cut the lettuce into slices and break the green leaves apart into a welcoming bowl. Place the delicate burnished cauliflower across the top. Make sure to scrape the burnt, salty shards and seeds from the iron griddle - cooks treat. Add the remaining sesame seeds and oil to the top with a final sprinkle of salt.

Let it sit for a couple of minutes to let the oil filter down each leaf to the depths of the bowl. Grab a fork. Recharge. Gotta catch 'em all.

JG





Saturday, 9 July 2016

Phoenix BBQ




10/07 PHOENIX BBQ



There is a primal heat burning deep in the iron grills of a barbecue claiming their first victim - be it vegetable or meat, none are safe. The scalding flames heat the iron ferociously with every ingredient sacrificed to it transforming in a charred smokey haze. There is more to a barbecue then shrivelled sausages using methods that slightly refined, haven't changed since the dark ages where cooking on an open fire meant survival.

Meat is essential. Imparting new depth and flavour to the grill each time, the fats charring and smoking through each round of cooking. Barbecued meats are best charred on the outside, heated through but then bloody and rare when cut open. Sausages however need thorough cooking because even Mrs. Lovett can't predict the contents, have a little priest? 

Vegetables benefit incredibly from the slow, intense heat. Wrapped in tinfoil cocoons they need only salt and pepper (to draw the moisture) and a little oil (to speed the heating). Clamped in the iron barbecue the metamorphosis from harvest to banquet is mysterious but glorious. Now you know what lies in the fire - shadow and flame - waiting to appear at the table.


Ingredients (all approximate) - 

4 Spicy Sausages (chorizo or chilli pork)
1/4 Red Cabbage
3 Large Zucchini
1/4 Pumpkin
2 Corn
2 Lettuce (cos)
4 Large Mushroom

Salt + Pepper
Nutmeg
Balsamic Vinegar
Olive Oil
Leftover Wine (any)


What I did - 

I dont intend to over complicate barbecuing because i know everyone has they own way. This is just the way i fashioned over the years, from watching family and friends variously cook on gas grills, open fires, buried embers. The vegetables are all self contained and can be improvised with anything else, quantities expanded or simply ignored. Just follow your nose, careful not to burn it.

(Clockwise from Top Left: Cabbage, Lettuce, Pumpkin, Corn, Mushrooms, Sausage, Zucchini)

Sausages: Just have them at the ready, they don't need anything else.
Cabbage: Cut the quarter into thirds, lengthwise. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, a dash of olive oil and then finally a splash of dark vinegar. Wrap up tightly in tinfoil.
Zucchini: Make an incision lengthwise. Dress with salt and pepper to draw out the moisture and a small slick of oil to aid the heat from the bbq. Wrap each one individually, otherwise they will all mush into one.
Pumpkin: Slice the pumpkin into large even discs. Leave the skin and seeds on. Add salt and pepper to the top of each piece. Add some olive oil to help the pumkin cook through faster. Wrap each slice separately for cooking.
Corn: Corn on the cob. Nothing to see here. Leave in their papery skins. Wrap each tightly in tinfoil.
Lettuce: May seem unusual, but cooks to perfection. Cut the base off so that each leaf is separated. Wrap each head in a tinfoil cocoon, make sure its tight or the lettuce will poke out and burn instantly.
Mushroom: Cut the mushrooms in half (quarters if they're huge) and bundle in a tinfoil nest. Dust with salt, pepper and half a nutmeg shaved over the top. Seal the bundle tightly because the mushrooms will release a lot of moisture, which they need in order to thoroughly cook and shrivel.

With the bbq ignited and slowly heating up, start by 'cleaning' it. All this is is wishing the flat grill with a splash of old wine which will loosen the old charred parts and grease. Scrape it down into the bbq and let the fire consume. Now its ready for the foiled harvest.

Put the sausages first on the hottest part - they should be thoroughly cooked through with darkly charred skin. Arrange the rest of vegetables on the different parts of the grill. The trick here is to not worry about over-cooking. Just make sure you rotate all the items around the BBQ, from the hottest points to the coolest.

The tinfoil helps regulate the heat so that if the parcels are flipped and rotated - every 5/10 minutes or so - they will all cook evenly. Darkly. Smokily. Deliciously. If the bbq has a resting rack, you can leave the cooked items to warm first while the rest finished off. Usually sausages first, through to the corn last.

When ready to serve, arrange all the vegetables in a large bowl. Taking care to slowly peel them from their metal cocoons, so that no foil ends up being eaten and that any excess juice is run off. Don't fear burns or blisters (on the food) instead embrace them, they are the soul of the BBQ.

JG







Monday, 4 July 2016

Pie Face





05/07 PIE FACE



Spending a weekend in a witches coven, summoning demons and brewing mischief conjured some unusual spirits. In all truth I was just in the country with very old friends - demonic friends, special people to be sure. After venturing through forests and clambering over muddy tracks there was an inordinate amount of food eaten, mind altering wine downed and roaring wood burnt to fire our souls. 

One of these nights beckoned this monstrosity, only in appearance - not taste, to our cabin. A vegetable pie, without any of the fuss but all of the flavour. The vegetables have been tainted and woody by the tomato and mushrooms, forming the flavour base for the red pie. It is simple, warming, and devilishly good. You can take pastry more seriously but why? Especially when a grinning ghoul radiates warmth from the oven.


Ingredients (all approximate) - 

1/4 Pumpkin
1 Sweet Potato
2 Potato
250g Mushrooms
3 Carrots
100g Artichoke (marinated)
250g Tomato Puree
1 Cup Red Wine
Salt + Pepper
3 Sheets Puff Pastry (Supermarche quality)


What I did - Oven preheated to 180degrees

This is a slow comfortable recipe. Nothing to stress over, just potter round for a couple of hours with a comfort movie in the background - preferably with Meryl Streep. Start by using a wide baking dish, either cast iron or thick ceramic. Heat up the mushrooms with the artichokes and butter, letting the marinade and butter draw out all the flavour from the fungi.

Next braise the carrots, adding the potato, pumpkin and sweet potato until the liquid has been absorbed. Add the red wine in a hot splutter. Once it settles and is simmering fast add the tomato puree. Clamp a lid on and bake for an hour - until all the vegetables have softened, but not yet a mush. Take out of the oven and let cool for half an hour.

Once its cooled enough you can dover with the pastry lid, any hotter and the pastry would melt into an unpleasant gloop. Its easiest to make a lid out of strips, they cook faster with ridges that crisp deliciously. Add a face should you feel a ghoulish spirit.

Bake again for another 30 minutes until golden - verging on burnished. Take out of the oven and serve messily onto plates, devour near a wood fire and with deep red wine. No responsibility will be taken for over-eating or drinking because this pie is demonic.

JG





Friday, 24 June 2016

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







Thursday, 23 June 2016

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







Tuesday, 31 May 2016

Devious Pavlova



01/06 DEVIOUS PAVLOVA

"...indeed grow in grace & beauty. 
But as the sun sets..."


We return to the backwards land of the Pavlova. Where everything makes sense in no way at all. Soft cream enveloping dark meringue canyons, contrasting textures clashing in suspended animation. By the time desert is served it is almost too late to face anymore food, what an awkward situation. Conjuring the mischievous balance between dark decadence in flavour and ethereal lightness is key. A pavlova is physically light as cloud, yet unmoderated can become sickly sweet.

The chocolate here subverts the ethereal desert and it transforms into a brooding storm cloud. Cocoa and chocolate give body to the meringue making it deviously rich. The battered raspberries have been swirled up in the cream and sharply cut through the sugary sweetness. Together the clash of these two flavours make a beautifully rich yet graceful desert. Moderation by flavour, beauty in constraint. Qualities I love and honour here for Maleficent, my Mistress of all evil.

Ingredients (not-so-approximate) - 

6 Egg Whites
300g Castor Sugar
1 tsp Balsamic Vinegar
2 tsp Cocoa
50g Dark Chocolate
300ml Cream
1 Tbls Nutella
200g Raspberries


What I did - Oven preheated to 180degrees

Egg whites, sugar and cream are the foundation of all Pavlova - however all forms of chocolate are liberally added here to create something decadently deviant. The chocolate makes the meringue chewy like a macaroon, less eggy than a plain meringue - both mutations suit me just fine.

The oven needs to be preheated, and the meringue started - and I implore you to find a stand mixer to use (or someone who can stand and mix while you keep calm). Whip the egg whites and vanilla into a stiff, frothy cloud. Then on a high speed trickle the sugar in in a slow stream, the whites quickly become enameled and glossy. Once the sugar is combined, add the vinegar and cocoa - the cocoa acts like corn-flour and helps the whites cook without seeping. In as few turns as you can manage, fold in the grated dark chocolate so that the glossy is flecked with chocolate shavings.

Line a baking tray and flatten the stormy cloud of meringue into an even disc - not neat, but even thickness. Slide it into the oven and immediately reduce the heat to 150degrees, baking for 30 minutes. Turn the heat down to 120degrees for a further 45 minutes. The sign that the bake is working is if there is no change in shape. The gloss should turn into a chalky bone and (don't panic it should happen) the chocolate will crack deep ravines around the edges. Turn the oven off and leave the door ajar until completely cooled.

Turn the hollow disc out onto a wide serving plate, peel the baking paper off. The dome will collapse opening deep cracks around the edges. Start whipping the cream, add the raspberries halfway. Their ruby beads will jewel the cream as the whip decimates them. When firm fold the Nutella through roughly, not so that its combined but instead dark veins run through white. Crown the meringue in cream, and then dust chocolate shavings to finish.

Rest in the fridge for at least an hour so that all the layers settle and fuse together. When you cut into it to serve the chocolate will have penetrated every layer of this Pavlova with the same intensity as a wild storm that soaks you to your core - just more desirable.

JG