Empty nest syndrome

I'm all alone. Friday saw the second fledgling take flight, lured away from the nest by an attractive morsel of slime that his father was holding out to him -- forcing him to fly. He then proceeded to spend the rest of the day hiding out in the lower reaches of the bush, but has now vanished.




On Saturday, PJ took off for LA, E3, and undoubtedly a trip to the Golvin family's favourite Mexican takeout joint. Inspired by this, a punnet of organic tomatoes, and the fortuitious purchase of some chiles at the Winchester farmer's market this morning, I decided to make roasted tomato salsa. It's loosely based on this recipe, but with the addition of a rather attractive Japanese aubergine, also bought this morning. And with PJ away, I've been able to increase the amount of coriander, making up for months of doing without.






It's good stuff. Smoky vegetables, the brightness of the lemon and coriander, and the subtle heat of the chile. I've already eaten some of it on crackers, and will polish off more tonight with some roast potato wedges and sour cream. And maybe I'll have a helping for breakfast with some eggs, a type of huevos rancheros, after my visit to the gym at an ungodly hour on Tuesday. Go for the burn indeed.

A culinary weekend

The injury to the big toe on my right foot did not prevent me from making the most of a rainy weekend. And the contents of the vegebox.

First up: orange and chocolate chip cookies


Sunday brunch: saj borek with spinach and feta. So good, you get two pictures:

In prep:



Cooked, with fried egg:



Sunday dinner: butternut squash with spinach and couscous, recipe courtesy of Riverford. We're having the remains of the stuffing tonight as burgers.



Given that I'm away this weekend and PJ's away Thursday/Friday and Monday/Tuesday next week, I've changed our order from the large vegebox to the fruit 'n veg box. We were beginning to feel overwhelmed by the amount of root veg we had -- and our digestive tracts were bearing the brunt. And we have a guest -- our first overnight guest! -- next week, so we want to be ... fragrant for her, if you know what I mean (and I think you do).

Beetroot, two ways

The vegebox has been a hit. We have eaten so well for the past few days, thanks to great and varied ingredients that are really challenging me in the gastronomic arena. Friday night was mushroom and Lancashire cheese crumble, Saturday was pan-roasted cod with wilted spring greens and carrot/potato puree (outstanding), and today was all beetroot all the time. I roasted four of the beetroot for more than an hour last night, bathed in orange juice, maple syrup, balsamic vinegar, and water. After leaving them to cool overnight, I peeled them this morning -- a somewhat messy operation that left me looking like an extra in a Uwe Boll movie. I pureed 2 of them and added them to a chocolate cake mix; PJ ate one for lunch; and I sliced the other and used it in a beet-feta tart for dinner -- accompanied by a watercress/sprout/orange salad, thanks to a timely recipe from Nigel Slater in today's Observer Food Monthly (also, I gathered today, a fan of the Riverford delivery scheme).


Now, I'm not a fan of unadulterated beetroot, but it was a nice addition to the tart and utterly fantastic in the chocolate cake -- especially when liberally daubed with whipped cream. And I mean real whipped cream. Cream that whips straight out of the jar and remains whipped when left for 30 minutes. Dutch slagroom needed to be chilled for ages, along with the bowl and beaters, and it was always rather thin, lacking the comforting fattiness of proper cream. Look at it below, thickly cascading down the side of the rich, dark cake ... Sorry! Didn't mean to go off on one about all things dairy, but boy have I missed double cream for the past six years! Anyway, the cake was lovely, slightly earthy note to it, well worth trying -- particularly if you're trying to sneak extra veg past demanding children (and adults).



Tomorrow night will be mushroom-stuffed peppers with spring greens and the remainder of the carrot/potato puree, with possibly watercress soup for lunch. I can't wait for next week's box!

Chocolate Beet Cake

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda/bicarbonate of soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup cocoa powder
3 large eggs, beaten
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, Canola or corn oil
1 1/2 cups grated cooked beetroot (about 2 medium-size beets) (I pureed them as grating was very gory)
2 teaspoons vanilla
powdered sugar, optional

Preheat oven to 350°.
Combine flour, baking soda, salt, sugar and cocoa in a bowl; set aside. In a mixing bowl, combine the eggs and oil. Beat in vanilla and continue beating until well blended. Slowly beat in dry ingredients until well mixed; stir in beets.

Pour into a greased and floured 9x13-inch baking pan (I used a round 10" pan). Bake at 350° for 25 to 35 minutes, or until cake bounces back when touched lightly with finger.

Cool in pan on a rack. Dust with powdered sugar and serve with lashings of softly whipped double cream.

Vegetable-y goodness

Our first organic vegebox arrived today. It was very exciting! What's going to be in it? What exotic foodstuffs are going to challenge me culinarily this week? Hmm, cauliflower, potatoes, peppers, onions, mushrooms ... not much of a challenge so far, although they did contribute to a good veggie soup at lunch. But wait? What's this hiding in a paper bag? Beetroot. OK. Not so keen on the beetroot, but I have found a rather nice recipe on Orangette for a beetroot and feta tart, along with some recipes for a chocolate beet cake. No, it's not chocolate cake sandwiched together with slabs of the foul pickled stuff, but pureed beetroot mixed in with the cake batter -- a bit like carrot cake, which I adore. I will keep you posted on this one. I am, though, very pleased with my vegebox. The quality looks great and it will motivate me to try new dishes and ingredients.


Tonight, however, we had salad, the potatoes that I cheekily asked to be doggy-bagged from a restaurant on the South Bank last night, and Moroccan fish from my Mediterranean Street Food book. You marinade chunks of white fish in a mixture of onion, garlic, oil, parsley, lemon juice, cumin, paprika, and chilli peppers for 2 hours, toss lightly in flour, and deep-fry till brown. It was very good. And relatively healthy -- other than the deep-frying, and we almost offset that with our run. Fat offsetting: the culinary equivalent of minimizing your carbon footprint, only with fewer organizations letting you pay them to assuage your guilt.

You'll never eat lunch at this desk again

Off to buy my last office lunch today, and a trip to local supermarket Deen -- which has been "delighting" me with its vast and varied selection for the past 5 years, 9 months, and 13 days. (Actually, it has a great cheese buyer, so it's not all bad.) I purchased bread and old cheese, which I am eating as a sandwich accompanied by a class of milk, an homage to the traditional Dutch business lunch. From now on, it's home-made soups and salads, interspersed with the occasional expensive trip to M&S or Pret for sandwiches. Huzzah!

It's all coming back to me

What am I talking about! Of course I've got plenty to cook now that my oven is functioning again. Yes, we overcame yesterday's dilemma by getting a final falafel and chips plate from the rather nice falafel shop on the Leliegracht, but a trip to the veggie shop in the Hoofdorpplein at lunchtime today secured some rather nice rhubarb. Which meant crumble, of course. I love rhubarb crumble. And PJ loves crumble, so I've used twice the quantity of crumble to rhubarb that's usually recommended. And, we didn't have any bread this evening so I've also made some beer bread. The kitchen smells great.

I [heart] my oven.

Boiled potatoes with saffron and mint

I have had a sudden burst of enthusiasm for cooking. Maybe it's the warmer, lighter days, or perhaps it's just the prospect of finally getting the oven fixed, but I feel inspired. Tonight's meal was also Mediterranean, but moving west from Greece to Spain. I used up the courgettes and feta from last night in a rather decent tortilla, chopped up the remaining tomatoes and cucumber for an almost salsa-esque salad, and made these saffron potatoes.


I think I've written before about my love for Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries. One recipe has been a particular standout -- red mullet baked in olive oil, vermouth, saffron, and mint. I decided to adapt this combo for potatoes. From Albert Heijn I bought some organic, kruimig potatoes and some fresh mint. I peeled the potatoes, cut them into chunks, and boiled them gently for about 15 minutes with a good pinch of saffron. After I drained them, I stirred in a hefty tablespoon of extra-virgin olive oil, a splash of Noilly Prat, and a handful of chopped mint. I tossed this together gently, left it in the pan on the cooling ring until the tortilla was done, and then turned the yellowy, fragrant cubes into a bowl. A little more mint and a sprinkling of rock salt just to finish them off.

I guess it is somewhat extravagant to use the most expensive spice in the world for mere potatoes, but the results were excellent -- and I do have to empty my cupboards before the move. I won't be losing this recipe though.

Next stop, deep-fried Mars Bars

Fried food is the best -- not for your arteries, but certainly for the taste buds. Dinner tonight was Greek-inspired, including a big salad, pita breads, tzatziki, and these fried courgettes and chickpea fritters. Fried courgettes are really easy: Slice courgettes quite thinly, put in a bowl, pour over some milk, toss the courgettes, then toss the slices into another bowl containing a mix of fine cornmeal, salt/pepper, and dried herbs. Fry in hot oil until crispy on both sides. Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with rock salt.


The chickpea fritter recipe is from my Mediterranean Street Food cookbook, beloved provider of the excellent Moroccan flatbread recipe. It's also extremely simple (and vegan), although stirring the chickpea paste is exhausting work.

Put 2 cups of chickpea flour in a saucepan and slowly add 3 cups of cold water, beating well with a whisk to get a smooth mixture. Season, and then place over a medium heat and cook for about 10-15 minutes, stirring constantly. The paste gets really thick really quickly and your arm will start to ache after a couple of minutes, so see if you can rope someone else in to help out.

After 10 minutes, take the mixture off the heat, stir in some oregano and a couple of tablespoons of olive oil -- or some finely chopped parsley -- and quickly pour out onto an oiled plate (I covered mine with cling film first). Working quickly, spread the mixture out to about 1/2 inch thick and leave to set. It sets firm really quickly, so don't tip it out and then answer the phone or have a cup of tea. At this point, you can leave it in the fridge overnight and it's fine.

Cut the paste into shapes, or sticks, or cubes. Heat up some olive oil in a pan. (The recipe says enough for deep-frying, but I just had about 1/4 inch in the bottom of a large frying pan and that was fine.) You want it to be hot enough to sizzle when you put your first fritter in. Add the paste shapes and fry on both sides until they're crispy and golden-brown -- about 4 minutes in total if your oil is hot enough. Scoop out, drain on paper towels, and then sprinkle with salt. And don't forget to turn the heat off under the oil.

This quantity will make a lot of fritters; I managed to quarter it by mistake, but there were still plenty for two hungry beasts.

The little oven that could (almost)

Of course, I tried out my electric mini-oven on Friday. I knocked up a batch of rye sourdough bread and put it in to bake. This was a tough test; it should be cooked at 425F for about 25 minutes, and my "real" oven struggles at that heat. One problem with the mini oven became apparent very quickly. To get high temperatures, you need to have both the top and bottom heating elements on; the bottom one alone is not enough. However, the top element is really the grill, so instead of getting consistent high heat, you actually get a glowing red grill -- causing the top of the food to burn before it's cooked. I experimented with baking parchment across the top of the bread, settled for a lower temperature and a longer cooking time, and to my surprise, it worked. The bread rose (or as much as rye bread ever does), it was cooked through, with a fluffy crumb and decent crust. Perhaps longer, slower cooking is the answer for some breads.

However, this is my dream oven.


It belongs to the takeout pizza place I've raved about previously -- somewhere we're very much going to miss when we leave. I cycled past on Thursday night and for once it was empty. Carpe diem! I dashed in, ordered a couple of pizzas, and sat back -- smug in the knowledge that (also for once), it wouldn't take 40 minutes to get two pizzas. And, given that I was the only customer, I risked ridicule and asked if I could take a picture. The two members of staff looked slightly bemused, but agreed. Isn't it lovely?

Anissa 1: Gordon 0

The fish was a bust. Maybe it was the (extremely expensive) halibut, which refused to pan-fry nicely but went rubbery on the outside while raw in the middle. Maybe the sauce just wasn't flavorsome enough to counter the blandness of this white fish -- although it tasted pretty good mopped up with some organic brown bread. Maybe I was just too stressed after blanching broccoli, frying fish, and finishing the sauce to truly enjoy it. I can manage two pans at once; three is pushing it -- much more suitable to restaurant cooking than to home. Gordon definitely loses out to Anissa's Moroccan flatbread in this particular culinary battle.

However, I should be fair: the piquant mushroom and vegetable salad was pretty good. It involved a lot of prepand ingredients earlier in the day (see photo below), such as skinning and pureeing tomatoes, and I'm coming to the conclusion that I really hate blanching vegetables, but it tasted good, with lots of bursts of coriander-ness coming through from the whole seeds.



I'm looking forward to having some more of that for lunch -- just one of the many joys of working from home. The others are that I'm able to blog and get the vacuuming done before starting work without feeling guilty. And unload the dishwasher, put a clothes wash on, and do some ironing. Hmm, maybe it's not so good after all.

Moroccan flat bread

The oven man is coming tomorrow, and I can't wait. Lacking an oven for the past month has tried my patience and my bread-making skills. This morning, I decided to rise to the challenge (yet again) and pulled a recipe from my new cookbook, Mediterranean Street Food by Anissa Helou. This Moroccan flat bread's spicy filling appealed and was only slightly messy to make.

The filling
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/4 cup of flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
3 tbs (40gm) butter, softened
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 tst paprika
1/8 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

Mix all the filling ingredients together, with a pinch of salt (to taste). I roughly chopped the onion and parsley, then put them in my mini-blender with the spices to cut them even finer before blending into the butter. You don't want large chunks of onion as they'll tear the dough.

The dough
1/4 tsp active dry yeast
1 cup plain flour
1/2 tsp salt

Mix the yeast with a pinch of sugar and 1/2 cup water and leave for 5 minutes. It won't go foamy, but that's fine. You just want the yeast to dissolve. Sift the flour and salt together and gradually stir in the yeast water. You probably won't use all of it, but the dough should be slightly wetter than bread dough. Knead for 10 minutes until smooth and pliable. I had to add about another 2 tbs flour during this to stop it sticking to everything.

Grease -- yes, really -- your worksurface and hands. Divide the dough into four pieces and stretch one out into a thin rectangle. Spread one-half with a quarter of the filling, fold over the plain side, and fold again to make a square. Press down with your hands to make it thinner. Helou warns you not to tear the dough, but I found it didn't make a big difference to the final product.

Heat a frying pan and add a little butter. Put one of our parcels in, press down to stretch it out a bit more, then leave to cook for about 3 minutes until golden brown. Flip over and repeat. Keep warm in an oven while you make the rest.

We had ours with fried eggs, a big mug of coffee, and Tottenham versus Chelsea in the FA Cup quarter-finals -- a near-perfect Sunday lunchtime. The breads were yeasty and spicy and worked really well with the runny yolks. No pictures, as I had very buttery hands and was constantly occupied over a hot stove -- and then we ate them really quickly. A veritable hit! For dinner, I'm making a couple of recipes from Gordon Ramsay's Sunday Lunch book -- a piquant mushroom and vegetable salad, followed by sea-bream with broccoli and a sorrel veloute. Only, I'm using halibut and tarragon. We'll see how it turns out.

Fantastic fudge

The oven will be fixed on March 12 -- huzzah! Still no baking for another week -- boo! I've had to find other things into which to divert my culinary frustrations, and today it was fudge.



This is great stuff and incredibly easy. Melt together butter, two types of sugar, and (ahem) condensed milk, bring to the boil, leave to boil for about 10 minutes without stirring, preferably while reading the brand-new cookery book you bought earlier in the day, add vanilla, beat till thick and creamy, pour into tin and try to leave alone until set. To this batch I added caramelized cocoa nibs and large flakes of sea salt. I adore salt with sweet things, and this is just perfect. It's sweet and creamy and slightly crunchy and salty and you couldn't buy anything better.



I handed nearly half the batch over to Alan and Jo for safe-keeping, but have still got enough at home to make me thoroughly sick before tomorrow morning's now-essential gym visit. And then PJ gets back -- huzzah x 2!

I can believe it's not 'bena!

There are some brands that really define the product: Jacob's Cream Crackers, Terry's Chocolate Orange, and Branston Pickle, to name but a few. There are many generic copies but they never taste quite right. This "startling" discovery was brought home to me a few minutes ago when I made myself some hot blackcurrant. Now, normally, I would of course use Ribena -- the blackcurrant cordial of choice in the UK. But I don't have any. And the nearest over-priced UK supplies store is 6 km away. And I've run out of green tea and I really wanted a non-caffeinated beverage now. So, I had to buy a French sirop de cassis from Deen, and it's ... okay. Yes, it's hot and blackcurranty and vaguely sweet and definitely coats your teeth with syrupy, sugary goodness, but it's not Ribena. And it never will be.

Healthy food

After the gourmet delights of fishfinger pie, we opted for something a little healthier last night: Chinese noodle salad. This is a recipe I've made many times before, but it is just SO good. Regardless of the time of year, the vegetables you have to hand, or the protein that tops it, it brings a burst of color to the table and fresh crunchiness to the palate.



This time, I used deep-fried tofu, coated in a batter of egg white and cornstarch. Finger-lickin' good!



We sat on the floor in front of the TV, taking it in turns to dig into the bowl, while watching Top Gear's American Special, the funniest (and yet scariest) hour of TV so far this year. And it will take a lot to beat. Watch the repeat on Wednesday night at 8 (CET) on BBC 2. You won't regret it.

White trash dinner

Last night saw the destruction of my culinary reputation. The cause? Fishfinger pie. First, lightly grill frozen fishfingers, top with baked beans and place in the oven to heat through; pile this high with [whisper] instant mashed potatoes, cover in cheese, and put it back under the grill to brown.



It was fantastic. And we ate every last scrap of it.

Restaurant review: Scarlett

Or should that be incandescent with suppressed rage? No, not me for once, but one of our companions at dinner last night. I'd booked a table for four at Scarlett, an Italian restaurant on the Harlemmerstraat. I've walked past it many times and admired the flower displays in the window -- admittedly not a great criteria for choosing a restaurant -- and last night presented the perfect opportunity to try it out. The reviews on the IENS site had been very positive...about the food. Service, not so much and with good reason. We turned up, had our coats grudgingly taken by the maitre d' (the only front-of-house staff) and sat at our table. And waited 15 minutes for the menus to arrive. This is not totally unusual in Dutch restaurants -- they're often waiting for the one or two English menus to return before handing them to us, but we can translate restaurant Dutch pretty fluently now. The menus arrived, we chose what we wanted, and then waited. And waited. And waited for someone to take our order.

Keep in mind, this was not a large restaurant. There were perhaps 18 customers last night, so even with just one waiter, it should have been fine. But no. Mr Slowcoach would go sit down at a table and chat to a couple of ladies there, admirably ignoring all the diners trying to catch his eye. After he took our order, he asked if we wanted wine, took his own sweet time bringing the wine list, took even longer to actually bring the wine we ordered, and then failed to open it. Seriously. He left it at our table and headed off for another chat for 10 minutes. At this point, Zjef went over to ask him to perform the task and was told "Time out, time out!" -- as if he'd requested something completely unreasonable.

The rest of the meal continued in the same vein, even down to forgetting to bring us the second bottle of wine we'd asked for -- but remembering to include it on the bill at the end. When we asked for forks to eat our main course with -- again, a not unreasonable request in a restaurant -- he told us to be patient. While our food was getting cold. If there's one thing that is guaranteed to send my blood pressure sky-high, it's people patronising me when I'm making a perfectly reasonable request and am just a teensy bit put out about the fact that something isn't right with the "experience" I'm paying for (c.f., the KLM check-in employee who was completely unapologetic when telling me that I'd been bumped from a flight because they'd overbooked it and that I shouldn't get upset with him because it wasn't HIS fault. Aargh!!! Where do they find these people!) I don't want or expect American-style rushed dining, but I would like to be able to eat a meal when it's put in front of me.

But, the food was fantastic. Very reasonably priced and absolutely delicious. I had salmon tempura with salad, two huge pieces of salmon beautifully cooked -- and only 7.50 euros. The pasta main wasn't quite as good but still very nice. All the other dishes on the table were highly praised. We paid 100 euros total for 4 starters, 4 main courses (including two of the more expensive ones), bread, a bottle of a decent Pinot Grigio, and a bottle of sparkling water. We couldn't face the agony of ordering dessert and coffee, but from what I saw going to other tables, both looked excellent -- when they arrived. However, the restaurant lost at least 50 euros of additional business from us -- and almost certainly from other tables, too -- and that makes it hard to recommend to anyone else.

Approach with caution -- and plenty of time on your hands.

Baked mushroom rarebit

I think about food a lot. On my cycle rides to and from work. During "down time" at work. In relaxation at my yoga class. Before I go to sleep and when I wake up. I most enjoy thinking about food when I'm trying to figure out what to make for dinner, trying to remember what's in the fridge and mulling over the possibilities. This evening's cycle ride home saw me considering mushrooms, eggs, some taco shells, and old spring onions. The mushrooms were portobello, so baking them seemed in order. I could do an oniony omelette to go alongside, and maybe break the taco shells in half, sprinkle them with cheese, grill them, and dollop on some sour cream. So far so good. But what baked mushroom recipe? I turned to the trusty Interweb and came across this: Baked Mushroom Rarebit.

The mixture takes about 5 minutes to pull together:



And 15 minutes later, the mushrooms are out of the oven and next to an omelette. Oh yes, it's one to remember.

2007: The year of culinary simplicity

As I promised myself following the devilled quail egg incident, I'm aiming for simpler cooking in 2007. And what could be simpler than rustic Italian fare, as set down by Giorgio Locatelli in The Guardian? Tonight, I made lasagne della Vigilia -- Christmas Eve lasagne -- so wrong time, but the inherent simplicity of the recipe appealed. Melt together butter, garlic, and anchovy fillets. Cook sheets of fresh lasagne, drain and dry, lay on a plate, cover with huge amounts of parmesan and black pepper, then drizzle with the anchovy butter.



This was intense. It's essence of fish with the added saltiness of parmesan and the richness of butter, so not one for people on a diet -- or who don't like anchovies. And it's not quite so simple if you make the pasta yourself (which of course I did), although again that's only two ingredients and about 10 minutes of effort in total. I guess culinary minimalism will be harder to attain than I thought.

Crazy hors d'oeuvres

There comes a point in every home cook's life when he or she verges on the brink of insanity. Reader, I reached that point this evening. I was just preparing to pipe devilled egg mayonnaise back into the quail eggs that I'd carefully hollowed out earlier and it struck me that this was ridiculous. I was desperately trying to over-achieve, following one of Rick Tramonto's recipes (albeit scaled down), and hitting crazy Martha Stewart follower territory. I put down the piping bag, filled the whites using a teaspoon (much simpler), and placed them carefully on the glass serving tiles -- the easiest way to make food look good. Sanity regained ... until I started on the courgette slices. Damn. Here's to simpler cooking in 2007.

A vegetarian's lament

Brunch in the countryside -- so very, very tempting.