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Sometimes you know something isn’t quite right but the little cooking demon whispers in your ear: “no, this is just fine, keep going. You don’t want to miss the Barefoot Contessa do you?”
Yesterday, when I removed this bundle of thin sheets, sans box, from the freezer, I told myself it was Filo Pastry. Even when I was separating the thawed sheets and finding them to be a bit curlier than usual, quite a bit smaller, a bit thicker and a bit more translucent, I still continued to spread melted butter over the sheets and layer them up. The normally silky texture of Filo wasn’t there and when I folded the slightly coarse sheets around the salmon, it didn’t hold in place as readily as it normally should.
At some point I yelled downstairs to Paul (who was watching Battleship Galantica) “Am I using Egg Roll wrappers instead of Filo Pastry?”
He bolted upstairs to check: “No.”
Me: “Thank God!”
Paul: “Nope, those are Spring Roll Wrappers.”
Well, thanks for that Mr Semantics!
The oven was on high, the fish was mostly shrouded in non-filo pastry. I had no other option. “I’m gonna just throw these in the oven and see what happens. You, get to work on the potatoes.”
We crossed our fingers and waited hungrily to see what would actually happen.
I figured that Spring Roll Wrappers would probably take a similar length of time to cook in the oven as Filo Pastry so after 10 minutes I tentatively peeked in the oven. They looked golden brown, crisp and not the frazzled, charred mess that I had been dreading.
In the meantime, Paul had knocked up a rather tasty (and ad hoc!) sort of potatoes Dauphinoise, using sour cream, chives and some milk, which we served with the salmon spring roll parcels. Paul had apparently made several kilos of the Dauphinoise “just in case” and also heated up some frozen peas, “just in case”.
As it turned out, the spring roll wrapping worked rather well, it was just the filling that we were rather disappointed by. Another one of those recipes that I had been dreaming of cooking for some time, taken from Tamasin Day-Lewis, was Baked Salmon with Ginger and Currants. I thought it sounded recherché enough to be really delicious. However, whilst it was quite tasty, it was just a bit too sweet for my taste buds. Paul said he would have preferred pickled ginger instead of the preserved ginger that the recipe asked for. Also, I had to substitute raisins for currants as I hate those tiny little black things.
I don’t feel enamoured enough with the recipe to replicate it here, although it is apparently a restaurant classic. Still, it looks pretty enough, don’t you think?
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Wait...Is That A Pigs Trotter?

Last night I cooked a pigs trotter.
There. I feel much better now. I know that you won’t all sit in judgement of me, particularly after your bolstering Tapioca comments.
The thing is, I have this nasty habit of buying offal based products, cooking them but being too squeamish to eat them. I have chicken livers in the freezer. I actually like liver but I haven’t ever eaten chicken livers and now I’m worried that they’ve been in the freezer for too long and that they’ll be all desiccated.
To be fair, I did think that the pigs trotter would be a little more appetising than it actually was. I could get over the little bristles on its ankles and the gelatinous rind if there was actually any sweet morsel of meat underneath. But there was nothing. Just gristle and bone. I know. I’m a coward but so is my husband! I put the trotter on his plate and I saw him just looking mournfully at it, thinking “I have to eat some of this to save face but I don’t think I can.”
And, he poked at the trotter and then ate some more of his dinner and then prodded the trotter, but not one morsel of trotter meat passed his lips.
Coney had a very tasty snack last night.
What all of this rambling preamble leads to though is really just an amusing side-note to last nights dinner, which was Jerk Chicken with Caribbean Rice and Peas.
You may recall from an earlier post of Pauls that he mentions my grandparents demanding Jerked Pork. In preparation for this feast (I have a wonderfully huge fillet of pork, bought from Well Hung Meat last month sitting in the freezer, just waiting to be jerked around), I decided to have a test run with the spice mix, ensuring it wasn’t too hot and so forth. What looks good cooked by Ainsley Harriott on TV might just be too much for them to stand in real life, after all, they are OAPs.
So, utilising my Elisabeth Luard book, the Latin American Kitchen, once again, I used her recipe for Jerk Seasoning with Allspice and applied it to a couple of Corn Fed Organic Chicken Breasts.
The spice rub consisted of quite a few ingredients, thankfully all of which I had in my overflowing drawers (no snarky comments, please), except for the dried onion and I simply replaced that with fresh shallot instead.
I love marinating food. I love squishing the bronze coloured spices into the raw meat, and the expectation of the flavoursome, juicy meat that follows is almost too much to bear.


But bear it I did. I prepared the spice rub in the morning, marinated the meat at lunch time and cooked it for supper, the rub turning the skin blackened and spicy, the meat remaining moist and toothsome.
The Caribbean Peas and Rice were made utilising another one of my samples from Natco, Pigeon Peas (also known as Gunga or Gungo Pea, Congo Pea and, rather charmingly, No-Eyed Pea).
The Pigeon Pea was first cultivated over 3000 years ago in Asia and Africa but didn’t reach the Americas until the dismal days of slave trading. They are still incredibly popular in India, and are usually served split, Toor Daal.
Like all legumes, the Pigeon Pea is nutritionally important, being high in protein and amino acids (including my husbands favourite, tryptophan).
In the Western world, Pigeon Pies are most famously seen in this dish, a traditional combination of the dried pea, Basmati Rice and Coconut Milk. Sometimes the rice is replaced with beans, sometimes some salt pork is added.
To shake things up a bit (and because it was taking up precious room in the freezer), I decided to throw in the trotter to add flavour to the rice and peas. I suspect that some salt pork would certainly have added better flavour and been more palatable but there you go.
Warmed up with a couple of Habanero Chilis (I put only one in originally, thought it wasn’t hot enough so threw in another for company – that heated things up somewhat) and seasoned with some dried thyme, onion, garlic and plenty of salt, it was a tasty way to serve peas and rice and a perfect, pale match for the chicken.
If you want to replicate the peas and rice at home, I think that you could omit the trotter without much recourse, although a chunk of ham wouldn’t go amiss. I would suggest a final sprinkling of some chopped spring onion to lift the whole dish though.
JERK CHICKEN serves 2
Ingredients:
Spice Rub (this made more than enough for just the two of us, we put ours in a jar for future usage).
1 Tbsp. Ground Allspice
1 Tbsp. Ground Ginger
1 Tbsp. Dried Thyme
1 Tsp. Sea Salt
1 Tsp. Cayenne Pepper
1 Tsp. Sugar
1/2 Tsp. Ground White Pepper
1/2 Tsp. Ground Cinnamon
For the Chicken
1 Small Shallot, finely chopped
1 Clove Garlic, finely chopped
2 Organic Chicken Breasts, skin on (this is very important to ensure your chicken is moist)
Juice of One Lime (although I used lemon because I was out of limes)
Good slug Olive Oil
METHOD:
Mix together all the dry ingredients.
Place the chicken breasts in a ziplock bag a couple of tablespoons of the dry rub, the lime or lemon juice, oil, garlic and shallot and mix well. Leave to chill for at least 4 hours.
To cook, preheat a griddle until really, really hot and place the breasts (obviously removed from the bag), skin down on the griddle. Cook for about 15 minutes or so, turning halfway. You may need to turn the heat down a touch if the jerk seasoning looks as if it is going just a touch too black.
Serve with Jamaican Peas and Rice.
JAMAICAN PEAS AND RICE - serves 2
Ingredients:
125g Pigeon Peas, soaked overnight or for at least 8 hours
125g Basmati Rice
1 Can Coconut Milk
2 Cloves chopped Garlic
1 Small Onion, finely chopped
Salt pork (optional)
1 Teaspoon Dried Thyme
Seasoning
METHOD:
Drain the soaked peas and place in a large saucepan with the dried thyme, garlic, onion and salt pork if using.
Cover with water, about an inch or so above the ingredients.
Bring to the boil, cover and reduce heat to a gentle simmer.
After 40 minutes, stir in the coconut milk and the rice.
Replace the lid and cook for another 20 minutes or until the rice and beans are both tender.
Taste for seasoning, you will probably need a good couple of teaspoons of salt.
Serve with the Jerk Chicken and enjoy...
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It's Just Tapioca!


With Thanks to Chez Bettay
Honestly, it won’t bite.
The stuff that children’s worst nightmares are made of, Tapioca has had a bad press almost certainly since it was first invented.
My mother refers to it as slime, frog spawn or slimy frog spawn. It is an old fashioned Tom Brown's School Days type pudding that seems to send people spiralling back into a yawning nightmarish chasm of overcooked cabbage, watered down ketchup, grey, gristly mince and teachers standing over you whilst you finished every scrap of foul tasting food.
Fortunately for me, whilst I too suffered the indignation of degrading school dinners, I wasn’t exposed to Tapioca so it has no horrible connotations for me. Therefore, I was quite excited to prepare Tapioca after seeing a delicious looking recipe in the Latin American Kitchen by Elisabeth Luard.
I have always had a rather strange desire to try these tiny, dazzlingly white spheres. I couldn’t possibly imagine what could be so disagreeable about them. What I was interested to discover was that Tapioca is not, as I originally thought, a grain, but in fact reconstituted, processed Cassava Root (and if that fact doesn't make it seem all the more appetising, then I don't know what will!). Tapioca and Cassava are extremely popular in India and Latin America where they is used as a root vegetable, thickener or served as a sweet dessert. In Taiwan, it is served in Bubble Tea, the globes of Tapioca offering a startling contrast to the tea.

The recipe in Luard’s book is called Postre de Tapioca con Coco which makes it sound infinitely more romantic and appetising than Tapioca Pudding. The little pearls are simmered gently, immersed in a creamy bath of canned Coconut Milk and Sugar and then served chilled. I altered the recipe slightly to add a slightly more exotic feel to the dish, by adding a little cinnamon, some freshly grated nutmeg, vanilla sugar and a few drops of coconut extract. I also added cream and milk to the dish and a knob of butter for added enrichment. My final South Sea-esque flourish was Mango Puree.
I was recently asked by Derek from Natco Online to sample some of their huge range of Indian ingredients (so expect more unusual ingredients as the week goes on) and Mango Puree was in the box of goodies sent over to me (thanks Derek!). I am not generally a fan of tinned fruit, with the exception of tinned plums which are great in a cake, but I was hugely impressed by the Natco Mango Puree.
I remember reading a recipe for Mango Bellinis – apparently the celebratory drink du jour – and being aghast at the price of £5.00 for the puree alone, which comes in swish silver sachets. For more than half this price, you can buy a huge tin of this slightly sweetened Mango puree, use some today, some tomorrow and freeze the rest to make a delicious sorbet. Or just eat it straight out of the tin. You can also make smoothies with it too, which is how my husband will be utilising the remaining pulp.
The Postre de Tapioca con Coco would make a fun dessert to serve at a dinner party; it would be interesting to see the general opinion of Tapioca change rapidly as they taste this heavenly concoction, which is comfortingly creamy but redolently spicy too. The Mango puree cuts through the richness perfectly, although you could use fresh mango or any other tropical fruits, pineapple, papaya, passion fruit or even some poached pears, plums or apples to make it a delicious wintry pudding.
And, because this is produced from the Cassava Root, which is from a shrub, I think it also counts as this weeks Weekend Herb Blogging entry! The root of the Cassava Plant is usually cooked up and used instead of potatoes. It is an excellent source of Calcium and Vitamin C, although it can't be consumed raw as it contains cyanide. Once cooked or processed though, it has a myriad of uses, from treating Hypertension and Irritable Bowel Syndrome to being ground into flour. The bitter Juice is turned into a thick syrup called Cassareep and the leaves are pounded up and used in meat stews (called, rather fittingly, palavers). But, until we can buy Cassava Root in its most natural form in the supermarkets over here, we must satisfy ourselves with Tapioca:

POSTRE DE TAPIOCA CON COCO adapted from Elisabeth Luards Latin American Kitchen
Serves 4
Ingredients:
125g Tapioca
1 Can Coconut Milk
Milk and Cream to bring the total volume of the coconut milk up to 1 ½ pints
Pinch Cinnamon
Grating of Fresh Nutmeg
2 Tablespoons Vanilla Sugar (or more to taste), regular sugar is OK too
Mango Puree, I used Natcos own brand, or fruit of your choice.
METHOD:
In a large heavy based saucepan, pour the milk, cream and coconut milk mixture, the tapioca and the sugar. Mix well.
Add the Cinnamon and Nutmeg to taste.
Gently simmer over a very low heat for about an hour or until the Tapioca is soft to the tongue but still retains its shape.
Taste and add more sugar if required.
The original recipe suggests leaving this to chill but I preferred it warm. Serve in glasses or bowls with Mango Puree or the fruit of your choice.
Enjoy and forget all your childhood nightmares....
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Fish and Quips - Kedgeree

Cooking on a shoestring budget is actually not so bad. It forces you to assess the ingredients of your freezers and cupboards and to utilise them in the tastiest possible way.
I am lucky. I have a drawer full (literally) of spices, which I have named my Spice Drawer. Ok, so no points for originality. I won’t tell you what Paul calls it, but it usually involves a four letter expletive every time he tries to open it and finds that it has gotten jammed up, once again “and this time it’s the Taco Seasoning AND the dried Chipotles in the way!”
He might well complain when the drawer won’t open but he complains a lot more when we’ve run out of Cumin or peppercorns, hence it is my duty to provide a well stocked spice drawer.
Actually, with just a few choice spices and some dried produce stored in dusty old jars, you can make a really a substantial meal that doesn’t taste meagre.
Kedgeree is one of my favourite rice dishes that uses very few ingredients. The name is derived from an Indian dish called Khichri which is thought to be over 1000 years old. Khichri was traditionally served with rice and lentils, sometimes sultanas, chopped mint and minced lamb, but, cooked for the British Colonials in India during the late 19th Century, it evolved into something quite different. Kedgeree later become a breakfast staple for the wealthy British household for whom the first meal of the day was the most important.
At first glance, if you take a look at some of the ingredients, hard boiled eggs and smoked fish, it does seem like a traditional breakfast. Then look again: Curry powder? Basmati Rice? When was the last time I had curry and rice for breakfast (oh, now I remember...our last Indian takeaway leftovers slapped between two slices of bread)?
Those hardy Edwardians could also eat devilled kidneys for breakfast. Today’s palate is a little more (or is that less?) refined. Cereal and toast keep the vast majority of us satisfied until lunch, and so Kedgeree was relegated to a supper dish instead.
This is no bad thing. A well made, well flavoured Kedgeree made with undyed smoked haddock, heavily scented with a hot curry powder, enveloped with cream and parsley is a wonderful thing.
I have long tinkered with this dish, using various different recipes. The first one I tried was from Nigella Bites. She substituted the smoked fish for a more delicate salmon (and Eliza Acton suggested plain boiled fish herself in Modern Cookery for Private Families), exchanged risotto rice instead for Basmati and toned down the spices, spritzing the finished dish liberally with lime juice. I found myself adding more and more salt to try and extract some flavour from her recipe but it wasn’t giving it up without a fight. A good tablespoon of curry powder later and I was satisfied although I knew there was more to Kedgeree than this bland rendition.
Another, more traditional version was Tamasin Day—Lewis’ although I still found myself adding more seasoning. I loved the addition of hard-boiled quail eggs though and the chopped parsley is essential. Some cream adds a luxurious touch.
I was beginning to think it was me. Perhaps I was demanding more flavour than this dish was capable of. But, logically thinking, this was a dish coming from the days of Raj, when formerly lily-livered Brits were experimenting with hot curries and unusual spices. Surely the bland rice, the hardboiled eggs and the cream sauce could more than adequately cope with more curry? My culinary prayers were answered by Lindsay Bareham and her wonderful book, the Food Store (Kathryn, please insert sarcastic retort here).
Lindsay Barehams' version is, in my opinion, the definitive recipe. It does involve utilising at least three of your hotplates at any one time (one to boil eggs, one to boil rice and one to simmer the fish, and that’s before you need a final hotplate to make the sauce) but, if you break down all the elements of the dish one by one, it is quite simple but very, very special.
What makes Barehams’ recipe so different is that it uses a tablespoon of curry powder which is stirred into butter and onions with some flour to form a roux. This is then turned into a rich, creamy sauce with the addition of the poaching liquor, thus infusing the whole dish with its bold flavours.
I had a slight case of the heretics myself and added a handful of frozen peas to the sauce, primarily for the reason that I was out of Parsley. Not the same taste I realise, but it did give a much needed ‘green’ element to the dish.
It seems a shame that Kedgeree is not as well loved as it was in the early 20th Century. It is a nutritious dish, filling and tasty. It is also, despite its Indian roots, a delightfully British dish that deserves to be rediscovered.
N.B. Sam at Becks and Posh has organised an event to celebrate the wonder that is British Cuisine, the round-up to be posted on St Georges Day (23rd April). I would urge any other British food bloggers (or lovers of British food - I know you're out there!) to blog about your favourite British dish, whether it's fish and chips, toad in the hole or Murrey Mints!

KEDGEREE from The Fish Store by Lindsay Bareham
Serves 2-3
Ingredients:
300g Basmati Rice, rinsed in a sieve and drained
2 Hard Boiled Eggs (or more depending on your tastes)
300g Smoked Haddock, preferably undyed if you can get it
1 Bay Leaf
4 or 5 Peppercorns
1 Medium Onion, finely chopped
300ml Milk
50g Butter
1 Tablespoon Butter
1 Tablespoon Curry Powder
Handful of Frozen Peas (optional)
Chopped Parsley
100ml Double Cream
Salt and Pepper to taste
METHOD
Hard boil you eggs to the level of doneness that you like. I prefer my yolks to be barely set. These can be boiled in advance and kept unpeeled in the fridge until you are ready for them (remove them from the fridge as you start preparing the rest of the dish though, so they come up to room temperature – it never did Columbo any harm).
Place the rinsed rice into a large pan and cover with 450ml of cold water. Bring up to the boil then turn down to the lowest setting and cover.
Leave for ten minutes then remove from the heat but leave covered for another 10 minutes. I forgot about removing the lid and the rice was still fine though.
In a large frying pan, place the haddock and cover with the milk. Throw in the Bay Leaf and Peppercorns and simmer for five minutes or until the fish flakes easily.
Once the fish is cooked, reserve the cooking liquor. Flake the fish into a separate bowl, discarding any bone and the skin (my dogs ate the skin).
In a small saucepan, melt the butter over a medium low heat and sweat down the onions until they are completely soft and golden.
Throw in the curry powder and flour and cook for a minute or two to get rid of the powdery taste.
Pour in the milk and bring to the boil.
Add the frozen peas if using.
Turn down to a gentle simmer, stirring until it thickens, then leave to cook gently for five minutes.
Meanwhile, tip the rice into a large warm serving dish.
After five minutes, add the cream and flaked haddock to the sauce. Combine gently and taste for seasoning. You may find you need some salt and pepper.
Pour the sauce over the rice and mix carefully to avoid breaking up the flakes of fish.
Sprinkle over the parsley and decorate with the hard boiled egg which you will have cut into quarters.
Serve and enjoy!
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Gougeres!

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible, I promise!
This weekend has been hectic. Firstly we have been filing our papers for the court case against the bank and this is no small feat in itself. Secondly, Paul has been ill with a small bug that my Mum has also been inflicted with, so I have been tending to two migraine ridden patients with upset stomachs but raging appetites. It seems that I am impervious to this stomach bugs and rightly so; after suffering with stomach issues for all of my adult life, I feel that I should be given a break somewhere along the line.
Anyway, our diet has been mostly tea and biscuits (me), cereal (Paul) and popcorn and BLTs (both of us). Not the healthiest of diets but sometimes life gets resolutely in the way of living.
But. The case against the bank is being officially filed at the court today and Paul has made an almost complete recovery, so hopefully things can get back to normality or, at least our skewed version of it.
This started last night with me making a dish from one of my favourite-but-never-cooked-from-it-cookbooks, the Zuni Cafe Cookbook by Judy Rodgers. This book has been one of the most enlightening reads for me in some time and has clarified some ideas that I had pondered upon but never questioned out loud.
The first thing was to always salt meat or fish or poultry several hours before cooking. Anyone who has eaten marinated meat, knows how tender and flavoursome it is and pre-salting is just a simplified marinade, or dry rub. I have tried brining with chicken on a number of occasions and it always works with great success, ensuring, not just incredibly moist meat, but more flavourful than you could imagine chicken to be. Whilst I always advocate eating organic chickens for their flavour, this is not always possible unfortunately, and brining offers a good way of bringing flavour to a bland meat.
I have also used salt as part of a dry salt cure for belly pork. My curing time wasn’t as long as the recipe indicated but the flavour infused and enhanced the meat quite miraculously. And I mustn't forget making Corned or Salt Beef just before Christmas...
The second revelation involves making stock and the tedious skimming process. The author, Judy Rodgers is staunchly against skimming off the fat for that is where the flavour is. Oh, and she also mentions salting your stock. Another one of those: “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” moments.
But, enough blathering about the book. Just go out and buy it.
Meanwhile, whilst marvelling over these facts, I made the New Years Eve Gougeres from the Zuni Cookbook. Obviously, it wasn't New Years Eve in our house last night, but these little cheesy puffs are so easy to make that you don't need to have a celebratory reason to make them.
For the uninitiated, Gougeres are large balls of choux pastry, flavoured with cubes of Gruyere and sometimes Mustard Powder, baked in the oven until golden and engorged. They are often split and filled with a variety of savoury fillings. This is what the Zuni recipe recommends and who am I to argue? Well, actually, being slightly contrary by nature, I did fiddle around with them a little. Paul has just made the aforementioned BLTs and I got to thinking: a tangy mustard and tomato sauce with some bacon and crispy lettuce tucked up inside the warm, cheesy Gougeres. I got to work and produced this little beauty (above). Looks pretty cute, huh? The final verdict from the man who knows (i.e. Paul, BLT afficionado) was that he preferred the Zuni version. Ah well, who am I to argue?
What is particularly desirable about the Choux dough is, not only is it incredibly versatile (remember the Beignet Souffle?), it is so much easier than it is given credit for. I whisked (or rather beat) up a batch of the dough in less than 10 minutes. There is no cooling off period like regular pastry, no worries about it being too flakey. It is far less temperamental than shortcrust pastry and it lends itself to all manner of sweet and savoury applications. Next stop for me and Choux: Paris Brest. Watch this space.

NEW YEAR'S EVE GOUGERES - adapted from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook
Makes 12 large ones or quite a few smaller ones.
Ingredients:
1 Cup Water
3 Tablespoons Unsalted Butter
1 Teaspoon Salt
1 Cup FLour
4 Large Eggs
Black Pepper
2 Ounces Gruyere cut into small cubes
Filling:
Bacon, cut into small chunks
Pickled Onions, thinly sliced
Salad Leaves
METHOD:
Preheat the oven to 200c.
Line a couple of baking sheets with greaseproof paper.
In a large saucepan, gently bring the butter, salt and water to the boil.
Once boiling, throw in the flour and beat like the fury for a few minutes until the mixture forms a thick, glossy ball. The beating of this dough is the hardest part of making Choux Dough so if you regularly work out, you'll find this a breeze.
Remove from the heat and beat in the eggs, one by one. It seems like the butter and flour mixture won't absorb all of that egg but with patience and brute strength, it will go.
The mixture should be slightly shiny and sticky and thick, a bit like a stodgy cake batter.
Now stir in the cubed Gruyere and a good grinding of black pepper.
Using a couple of teaspoons (one to dole out the mixture, the other to scrape it off the other spoon), heap little piles of the dough onto your prepared baking sheets. Take care to leave 2 inches between them as they will spread and double in size during cooking. Of course, you can make them smaller if you are making them for a large crowd of people.
Place them in the oven and cook for about 25 minutes (for the large Gougeres, less for the smaller ones). To check, remove from the oven and slice one open. It should be dry inside, the dough not at all wet any longer. If it is, put back in the oven for another 3 minutes or so.
Once cooked, carefully remove the tops and fill with some of the pickled onions slithers, some lettuce and bacon.
Enjoy!
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A Healthier Way to Serve Cauliflower

Cauliflower. A bland, flabby, insipid vegetable, redolent of disappointingly (but unsurprisingly) awful school dinners. Always cooked to the point of absolute collapse, it simply tastes like gone-bad cabbage (and leaves a lingeringly whiffy smell in the kitchen for hours too).
The only way you could get me to eat cauliflower was in one of two recipes:
1) Smothered (read disguised) in a cheese sauce and baked in the oven. Yes, the archetypal Cauliflower Cheese or
2) Pureed to within an inch of it's life and served as soup.
One masks its delicate flavour, the other enhances it, both deliciously.
However, since last night, all this has changed.
I had bought a cauliflower a couple of weeks ago and it still looked and felt and smelt not too bad (which is testament to the longevity of the cauliflower - more so than a post-apocalyptic cockroach). I had planned on making soup with it as part of my five day soup campaign but that fell by the wayside. Instead, it lingered in the fridge, rolling out every time I opened the door. Something had to be done.
Whilst looking for ways to utilise the beetroot, I came across this recipe in Lindsay Bareham's The Fish Store: Deep Fried Cauliflower with Mustard Sauce. Hmm, deep fried? Sounds good!
I am now a deep frying fanatic. Monday we deep fried prawns in Fish-Fry, I perfected Souffle Beignets and now the Cauliflower.
You can buy all sorts of pre-prepared breadcrumbs or coating but the best is your own freshly blitzed crumbs. The tedium of the conveyor belt-type process: flour - egg - crumbs - oil, is quickly overcome by the reward of seeing your deep fried food of choice turning golden brown and crisp, just waiting to be plunged into a creamy or spicy dip.
These are really easy to make, and would make a great appetizer for a party because they stay warm for ages (and taste good cold too). Plus, because the fried stuff on the outside, is filled with healthy vegetable stuff on the inside, they're good for you too, right? Right??
Note: One cauliflower makes quite a lot of these golden morsels, but it depends on the size floret. I had to ask Paul what size a floret was and apparently it varies. To make things more complicated there isn't even a kitchen implement that gauges the size of the floret! From a big bough of the cauliflower (I like to think of them as anaemic trees) to discarded branch size, apparently a floret is down to personal choice. Just to be on the safe side, I did a variety.
This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted this month by the matriarch of the event, Kalyn at Kalyns Kitchen!
DEEP FRIED CAULIFLOWER WITH MUSTARD DIP Serves 2 greedy pigs or up to 6 non-greedy people!
Ingredients:
1 Cauliflower, clean and cut into florets of various sizes
4 slices of stale Bread (I used white, but I think brown would be just as good too), turned into breadcrumbs (we used our food processor but a blender works too)
2 Large Eggs Beaten
30g Flour
Oil for Frying. We use sunflower oil.
METHOD:
Heat a large pan of vegetable oil to frying temperature. You will be deep frying the cauliflower.
Bring a pan of salted water to the boil. Throw in the Cauliflower Florets and boil for two minutes. Drain well.
In three separate bowls place the flour, egg and the breadcrumbs.
Put the florets, a few at a time, into the flour, then the egg, the the breadcrumbs, ensuring that they are thoroughly coated.
Drop them into the hot oil. They will start to sizzle immediately if the heat is hot enough.
Whilst the first batch is frying, you can start on preparing the second.
Once they are golden brown, remove from the oil and drain on kitchen paper.
Repeat process until the Cauliflower (or breadcrumbs) are used up.
Serve alongside the dip.

For the Dip:
Ingredients:
4 Tablespoons Mayonnaise
1 Tablespoon Dijon Mustard
Some Lemon Juice
Salt and Pepper
METHOD:
Whisk the Mayo and Mustard together. Squeeze over some lemon juice and season to taste.
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A Glorious Risotto - In Theory

Picture courtesy of Susan Blaxhill

Firstly, can I just say that I haven't taken a Nintendo-related hiatus from blogging. I simply hadn't cooked anything worth writing about, whereas Paul loves to pontificate about his food. He thinks though that he may have driven people away with his lecturing and that he is better suited to sociological writing, rather than culinary. I told him that the two are intertwined and besides, there'd be a riot if he was to stop his always entertaining posts!

Secondly, I like colourful food, like Pauls’ stir-frys, but I rarely cook food that has much colour. It could be because I’m addicted to carbs, and most carbs are pale, as if to demonstrate how virtuous they are. Rice, potato, bread, pasta. All pale and interesting. I might add the odd splash of colour with some green beans or carrots but a tomato sauce is about as bright as my culinary spectrum goes.
That is, until last night. We are now in a state of financial crisis. The bank has cancelled our debit cards and all because we’re taking them to court for illegal bank fees. What this leads to is us utilising store cubpboard stuff from our fridge and cupboards and hence why last night I was planning on making a risotto. I’m a bit fed up with regular risotto as it seemed like it was our staple diet for so many weeks when we were moving house.
However, whilst flicking through my new favourite book, The Fish Store by Lindsay Bareham, I found an unusual recipe for Roast Beetroot Risotto. This seemed like it would be a mood enhancer if nothing else, and with some beetroot rapidly going bad in the fridge, I thought, why not?
The original recipe required the roasting of the beetroots in the oven, which does give them a wonderful sweet, nutty flavour. My beetroot was already cooked though so I just chopped it up, in a gloriously over the top display of vegetable brutality.
I love Beetroot. I have documented my use of the vegetable on this blog before, here and here. I adore its sweetness, the earthiness and the staining of my fingers. It is a much underused vegetable in Britain which is a shame. For a country that loves sweet vegetables (carrots, parsnips and sweet potatoes), the Beetroot is woefully neglected, other than being served, pickled, with cheese in a sandwich.
This risotto varies from a ‘normal’ risotto, which is to say this one has a glass of red wine instead of white wine and it also has a good splash of Balsamic Vinegar. It has clotted cream stirred through it at the end and it sharpened up with some lemon juice.
Of course, I didn’t have Clotted Cream so I used up some Creme Fraiche, which seems to last forever in the fridge, and I grated some Parmesan which was stirred through as a final flourish.
As for the final taste test? Well, it had a great deal more depth than a regular risotto bianco. This can be alluded to the addition of the red wine and the rich, sticky Balsamic Vinegar. The lemon juice is a perfect foil against the rich creamy rice.
Colourwise, it wasn’t the vivid Warhol-esque cerise that I had visions of. By the time the extra cream and butter and parmesan were added, it had become a sort of coral colour. Very pretty nonetheless and the flavour was pretty sensational.

ROASTED BEETROOT RISOTTO serves 4
Ingredients:
4 Beetroot, roasted (wrapped in foil, unpeeled and baked for 30 minutes at about 200c)
4 Large Tomatoes, halved, depipped and roasted at the same time as the beetroot.
40g Butter
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
200g Risotto Rice, I used Arborio because that was all I had
3 Shallots, finely chopped
2 Cloves Garlic, finely chopped
Half a Glass Red Wine (I used up the dregs of my Rioja)
1 Tablespoon Balsamic Vinegar
1.5 Litres Chicken Stock, hot
Salt, pepper
Lemon Juice
50g Creme Fraiche
Parmesan (optional)
METHOD:
Remove the roasted beetroot and tomato from the oven. Remove the skins from both and chop roughly. Leave to one side.
In a saute pan, gently heat the olive oil and half the butter.
Soften the shallots and garlic in the oil until fragrant. Do not allow to brown.
Toss in the risotto rice and coat well in the onion/butter mixture.
Turn the heat up and pour over the red wine and balsamic vinegar.
Once the rice has absorbed the wine/vinegar, stir in the chopped beetroot and tomatoes.
Pour over the chicken stock, a ladle at a time, not putting more stock in until the last ladleful has been absorbed.
When the rice is starting to get creamy you can start to add a little more.
Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to watch over the rice like a newborn child, it won't stick or do anything extraordinarily horrible. It basically cooks itself. You just nourish it with the stock.
Once it has reached the texture you like, it should be slightly al dente, stir in the rest of the butter and the creme fraiche. Also sprinkle over a good pinchful of salt. The beetroot is very sweet and benefits greatly from sea salt.
Cover and leave for five minutes.
Taste the risotto, add a squeeze of lemon and taste again. I grated some Parmesan over mine because I felt it needed it. This is entirely optional.
Serve immediately.
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