A Fragrant Tangle

Tangle - noun
1. a complicated or confused mass of hairs, lines, fibres etc knotted or coiled together
2. a complicated problem, condition or situation

It is interesting how the state of one's mind and emotions can transfer into one's cooking. Here I am, 31 years old, truly single for the first time in 10 years and not sure who CB on her own, without a man is but fast coming to some wonderful but scary conclusions. Still aching and hurting but trying to move on. Trying not to think of him but of building a new life whilst trying to mend a stupid, fragmented heart (don't worry - this is the last you will hear of my emotional outpourings - I have plans for those elsewhere. In a truly anonymous fashion). I am rather tangled, in every sense.

A supper with friends at the weekend, dazzling with zingy flavours and conversation, has rather tempted my tastebuds into life once again, as did a trip to the local farmers market the following morning. And so this evening, tired after a day at work (during which I felt the creativity bleeding out of me) I opened the fridge, mentally re-ordered its contents and created the following dish. Tangled in appearance, it rather matched my spirit.

A Fragrant Tangle of Leeks and Prawns (serves one - get used to it!)
1 clove garlic, finely sliced
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp coriander seeds
1 small red chili, seeds removed and thinly sliced (in an attempt to ward off a summer cold)
2 small leeks, cleaned and thinly sliced
glug of wine (I used red as it was open but white would also be lovely)
handful of spinach leaves
tsp of wholegrain mustard
150g or so of large, cooked prawns

Heat a glug of oil in a frying pan (one to which you own the matching lid), and when shimmering, add the garlic, cumin, coriander and chili. Fry until the aromas tickle your nostrils.
Add the leeks and heat gently to soften. Add a glug or two of wine and cover with the pan lid. Stir from time to time to stop them sticking and trickle in a teardrop or two of wine when necessary.
When the leeks have separated and start to resemble a knotted ponytail (around 10-15mins) add the spinach and the mustard, stir, check the moisture levels and cover once again.
Once the spinach has wilted, stir in the prawns, heat briefly and then tip into a bowl.

Eat, smile and be happy.

Tangled, yes, but in a beautiful, (lemon) soulful way.

(No pictures as my camera is with an Italian.......)

Portobella Prawn Sandwich

It was hot, I had been walking all afternoon and I craved something meaty that I could eat with my hands and really get my teeth into. If I could eat bread and red meat, a toothsome burger in a pillowy white bap would push the button, however one quick trip to the shops later and I decided on this digestible alternative.

Portobella Prawn Sandwich
(serves one hungry lady)

zest and juice of 1/2 lemon
1dsp runny honey (I used lavender honey)
soy sauce (or tamari for avoiders of wheat)
3tbsp wholegrain mustard
2 large Portobella (field) mushrooms
200g tiger prawns (pre-cooked for extra speed)
1/2 hass avocado, sliced
salad leaves

Mix the lemon zest and juice with the honey, a generous shaking of soy sauce and the mustard. Season with black pepper to your liking and pour over the prawns and leave to marinate.
Meanwhile, get a griddle or grill very hot. Remove the stem from the mushrooms and brush both sides of the caps with a little sesame oil. Grill each side until cooked.
Remove the mushrooms and if using a griddle pan, briefly toss in the prawns to heat them through (or flash fry in a non-stick frying pan).
Put one mushroom on a plate, cap side down and fill with as many prawns as you can. Top with a couple of slices of avocado and some leaves. Top with the other mushroom and drizzle with any remainder dressing.

Accompany with any prawns that oozed out of the mushroom sandwich and some extra salad leaves to mop up the juices.

N.B. I had a few spears of asparagus that needed eating and so had griddled them along with the mushrooms and prawns. The dressing suprisingly really added to the char-grilled asparagus and I'll definitely dress it that way again. I do love it when one happens upon flavour combinations by accident.

Hake Days and Holidays

My return to the land of 'serious work' has, by choice, been on a part-time basis on the grounds that I could devote time and energy to working out how, indeed if, I can turn my passion for food and writing into something that could financially fill more of my life. Also it's a time to try different things out - an eight week stint in a chocolate shop was fun but I soon realised that life behind a counter is not for me. An evening food journalism course was exciting and has left me hungry for more. And yet I am still struggling to find my way.

Plus, of course, it is amazing how quickly those 'spare' two days are filled with house hunting, running errands and recently, traveling. So last Friday I was determined to do something food-related so headed to Borough Market for inspiration.

The market on Saturdays is now almost impossible to navigate unless visited at the crack of dawn due to the coach loads of gastro tourists, however Fridays are slightly less bustling with a strange but happy mixture of suits buying their lunch, serious shoppers seeking ingredients for the weekend and, of course, the ubiquitous film crews.

Mindful that we were having friends over for dinner on Saturday night to celebrate their engagement (yippee), I headed for the Morcombe Bay fish stall. I explained to the lovely fishmonger what I wanted to cook and he recommended Scottish hake, promptly disappeared into his walk-in fridge and emerged with a huge, glistening fish. A few deftly applied blows of a cleaver ensued and I was presented with two beautiful fillets with a silvery, pinkish skin that shimmered in the light. I was also offered the head which I declined to which it was plonked onto a waiting spike to either ward off or to entice my fellow shoppers. I couldn't quite decide which.

Last weekend in Vienna I ate a delicious salad of green and white asparagus with strawberries and a balsamic dressing, in which, unfortunately the ingredients swam. Seeing both kinds of the veg nestled side by side on a stall, I whisked them up and decided to replicate the dish as a starter at home. The greengrocer insisted that the Dutch white asparagus was not grown in banks and that is was 'just white' naturally - hmmm. My research begs to differ but who am I to argue with a chap in the know?

One jar of wonderful gooseberry and elderflower jam for an afternoon cake and a bunch of end of season of rhubarb and I was good to go. The makings of a three course meal were in my bags - let the cooking commence.



Roast Hake with Salsa Verde (serves 4)
leaves from a handful of flat-leaf parsley
leaves of a spring of mint
2 tbsp capers
3 anchovy fillets in olive oil, drained
2 cloves of garlic
2 large vine-ripened tomatoes, cut into eight slices
bunch thyme (the lemon variety is great if you can get it)
olive oil
white wine
2 fillets hake approx 500-600g each (salmon works equally well as does cod)

Heat oven to 220C/gas 7. To make the salsa verde roughly chop the first four ingredients with one of the garlic cloves and then give them a good pounding in a pestle and mortar with a good grinding of black pepper.
Line the base of a roasting tin with baking parchment and lay the tomato slices in four lines across the base of the tine. Slice the remaining garlic clove and scatter over the tomato along with most of the thyme sprigs (save one). Sprinkle over approx 1tbsp oil and a glug of wine - this prevents the fish from sticking and produces a wonderfully fragrant sauce.
Brush the skin-side of one hake fillet with oil and place, skin-down, on the tomatoes. Cover with the salsa then top with the other hake fillet, flesh side down. Rub a little oil into the skin, season and sprinkle with the leaves from the remaining thyme sprig.
Roast for 20-25 mins until cooked through. Cut the fish into slices and serve with the tomatoes and spoonfuls of the sauce.

J turned the asparagus into a delicious (and in my opinion far superior) version of that which we ate in Austria - simple, elegant and seasonal with a delicate dressing of balsamic and oil which complemented the sweetness of the strawberries whilst not overpowering the asparagus.














And the rhubarb?

Rhubarb and Orange Cake (from a Waitrose recipe card)
400g rhubarb, washed and cut into 2cm pieces
200g golden caster sugar
150g butter, softened
2 eggs, lightly beaten
75g self-raising flour, sifted
1/2tsp baking powder
100g ground almonds
grated zest of one orange plus 2tbsp juice
30g flaked almonds

Preheat oven to 190C/gas 5. Grease an eight inch springform round cake tin and line.
Place the rhubarb in a bowl and cover with 50g of the sugar and leave for a minimum of 30mins.
Cream the remaining sugar with the butter and incorporate the eggs and flour, a little of each at a time to avoid curdling. Fold in the ground almonds and baking powder and then stir in the orange zest and juice.
Add the rhubarb and its sugary juice to the cake mix and pour into the waiting cake tin. Sprinkle over the flaked almonds, put the tin on a baking tray and bake in the middle of the oven for 25mins.
Reduce the temperature to 180C/gas 4 and cook for another 20-25 minutes or until firm. Allow to cool in the tine for 10 mins.

We served with double cream which J so cruelly, but expertly, whipped.

Gosset non-vintage champagne and Porcupine Ridge sauvingon blanc tickled our palates and helped us to celebrate both a new engagement and a new friendship.

Fish for Friends

My great friend Peter was over all to briefly from France (see Le Log Lillois) and so we invited him over for supper. Peter is a pescatarian (or 'pesky vegetarian' as I have heard them referred to) and so obviously this determined dinnertime fare.

One trip to the fishmonger later and I was prepared to make my version of a tomato and fish stew, perfect for a bitterly cold February night. This is also a great dish to make if you not sure what time everyone is expected to arrive as the sauce can be made in advance and then the final stages will only take around 10 mins to perform.

Tomato Fishy Stew (serves 3 hungry people or 4 who are less ravenous)
1 onion, finely sliced
3 celery stalks, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1tsp ground cumin
3tsp ground coriander
1/2tsp ground ginger
few branches of thyme
400g tin cherry tomatoes in juice (plus 200g tin chopped toms in juice)
tomato ketchup
red wine (a soft pinot noir is ideal)
large pinch of saffron threads
1 tuna steak
1 salmon fillet
1 cod fillet
150g large cooked tiger prawns
flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Soften the onion and celery in olive oil for around 10 minutes and then add the garlic. Tip in the tomatoes with their juices, the herbs and spices, a good splurge of ketchup and bubble away on a medium to high heat for around 10 minutes. Season with a good grinding of pepper.

When the tomatoes have reduced to a pulp, pour in a glass of red wine and bubble again for around another 10 minutes. Taste and season to your liking. Turn off the heat if your guests have not yet arrived and avoid the temptation to keep on tasting (or maybe that's just me!).

Meanwhile, cut the fish fillets into large bite-size chunks and season with ground pepper. Mix in the prawns and put to one side.

Pour a little boiling water over the saffron threads in a saucer and leave to infuse.

When your supper companions are comfortably settled on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand, re-heat the tomato sauce, add the saffron/water mixture and chuck in the fish. Stir, leave over a low to medium heat for approximately 5-10 minutes (depends on how 'done' you like your fish) and then serve, sprinkled with a good pinch or two of the parsley with a bowl of new potatoes and one of greens.

I apologise to friends who recognise this dish - it's become one of those recipes that I can turn out automatically without having to concentrate terribly hard. Still, we all need them and gathering from the clean plates, no-one was disappointed.