Saturday 29 January 2011

Lemon, Bacon and Parsley Pasta

Greetings, dear followers. Back again after the usual long absence, and today, on my first evening home, I thought I'd knock together an easy supper. I'm not entirely sure where the idea for this first came from, but it combines some of my favourite ingredients. It's a dish I often turn to when the idea of pasta appeals, but a heavy cream or tomato sauce doesn't. It has the added benefit of being super-easy. And tasting good.

Ingredients
(for one)

Pasta for one - my favourite kind is fusilli, the twisty ones (named after rifle barrels, by the way), of which you need about three handfuls for a fairly generous serving. Spaghetti is next favourite, and to measure that you bunch it together in your hands and allow a bunch about the size of a one penny piece (or a little bigger) per person.
Three rashers of bacon
Olive oil
One clove of garlic
Juice of just under half a lemon
Glass, or just over, of white wine
Around a tablespoon of chopped parsley (PLEASE don't use dried, it honestly tastes like dead grass. You're better off using none if you can't get it fresh. You could substitute for a different herb as well)
A tiny splash of cream if you feel like it
Salt and pepper to season


Method

First, cook off the bacon however you like it best and set it aside to cool off a bit. If you're a veggie (or even if you're not, actually), I think pine nuts would be kind of yummy with this dish as the sauce is almost like a hot salad dressing anyway, so it builds on the 'pasta-based salad'. You can leave the bacon out, although I think it brings something nothing else really can. I also thought about the uses of halloumi cheese here - it would make the dish richer, but the lemon juice might help cut through that. If you wanted to use halloumi, you'd coat it in seasoned flour and fry it off until golden brown, then add it at the point in the recipe where the bacon goes in. 

Right, the bacon should have cooled off a bit by now, so tear it up into bitesize chunks. This is the kind of pasta you can eat with just a fork as you crouch like a praying mantis over the latest episode of Glee.


Now set some water on a high heat to boil for your pasta, with a generous pinch of salt added. While you wait for it to come to the boil, crush and finely chop the garlic and chop the parsley ready to add later. When the water's boiling, add the pasta. 


In a separate, smaller pan, put a splash of olive oil and the chopped garlic, and cook over a medium heat for a minute or two until the garlic softens and the oil begins to bubble a bit. At this point, add the lemon juice and white wine. 

Just a quick note about the lemon juice. You're about to reduce the wine, garlic and juice mixture, which will boil off some of the water and intensify all the flavours. One thing I've found is that if you add too much lemon juice, it can begin to taste too strongly sour, so go reasonably easy with that lemon half. If it does mess up on you, a good way to rectify the situation is with a spoonful of cream and judicious seasoning.


The next bit is easy: keep an eye on the pasta and the lemon and wine mix as they bubble away. You don't want the pasta to overcook or the sauce to reduce right away; if the first looks like happening, drain it; if the second, lower the heat and add a little water or a bit more wine if necessary. Once both pasta and sauce are cooked (the sauce should hopefully be ready first), drain the pasta and pop it back in the pan. Add the sauce, bacon, chopped parsley and a splash of cream if you feel like it. Stir it all in and season to taste. Instant supper. 

Ok, almost instant. 

Thursday 20 January 2011

Fruit Stuffing Balls (for Roast Pork?)

Another little job for the Anonymous Bystander today. She's having a lunch party fairly soon and has pre-prepared some delicious-looking roast pork to serve (I helped by means of sitting in the kitchen while it cooked, watching 4OD and occasionally basting it). This was yesterday evening, and today she asked me to make the fruity little balls of stuffing which are part of the recipe and which are served with the pork dish.

The stuffing is simple as anything to make, and you can use it either to stuff a joint of pork to roast (as the name suggests...) or just roll it into balls and pop it in a roasting tin with the meat, whether you cook it from scratch (in which case, add the balls about halfway through the pork's cooking time) or reheat it all together on the day. It takes very little time to put together, just as little time to cook, and tastes great.

Unfortunately, the recipe I worked from today isn't mine so I can't reproduce it for you here - it's in the Farmer's Market Cookbook by Ysanne Spevack, previously marketed as Organic Cookbook, if anyone's interested in finding it. I'll write a little about my experience of cooking this recipe, though.

Incidentally, I've had a question about including some vegan recipes on the blog. Well, I'm a very carniverous kind of a gal, so vegan doesn't come easy to me, but today's recipe is at least vegetarian (although obviously you'll be eating it without the roast pork...). If you leave out the eggs and don't mind yeast from the breadcrumbs, then you could make it vegan. The egg's role here is to bind the ingredients together into quite a gooey mixture, so for a vegan cook I suppose I would suggest finding another binding agent - maybe a sticky fruit puree. You could try using extra dates and apricots, and blending them so they'd stick the rest of the ingredients together. That's just an idea though, not tried and tested advice!

It also occurs to me that although I've used this stuffing as an accompaniment to a roast meat, it might make an equal, if not greater, impact as a centrepiece, say a sort of (dare I say it?) fruit-based 'nut roast'. You could add in your favourite nuts, pulses or seeds (cooked if necessary), maybe some cheese (for the veggies not the vegans), maybe even coat it in breadcrumbs and fry it like a chicken nugget. I'd be very interested to know what any of my veggie/vegan readers think about that. Please feel free to comment!

On to methods, then. You need a couple of leeks, a handful of dried apricots, one and a bit (or just two) of dried dates (no stones), four handfuls of fresh breadcrumbs, two eggs (FREERANGE please boys and girls, you don't even want to know what they do to those battery hens), half a handful of thyme (fresh is best, but I used dried today because we were out of the good stuff), and some olive oil, salt and pepper.

Everything needs chopping fairly finely, and the eggs need beating. Keep the leeks separate while you chop, but everything else can go in a bowl together. I sweated the leeks in a saucepan, and I also added the dried thyme at this point because it's a lot tougher than the fresh stuff and I thought it could do with an extra shot of heat to release the flavour (if there is any flavour in dried herbs, which I sometimes wonder). The leeks need to be nice and soft, then you literally stick all the rest of your ingredients into the pan with the leeks and give it a good old mix-up until it all comes together. It should almost look like a dough.

Incidentally, if you have any leftover breadcrumbs at this stage the best thing to do is to put them into a warmish place (eg, a low oven) until they're totally dried out, and then seal them in a sterile jar. They'll keep in your store cupboard for a surprisingly long time.

I scooped up smallish handfuls of my 'dough' and rolled them into little balls between my hands, then set them on some magic paper (it's awesome stuff, like a replacement for greaseproof) on a baking tray, covered with clingfilm and left them in the fridge for the Anonymous Bystander.

When it comes to her dinner party, she can leave the tray out for an hour or so to bring to room temperature, then pop it in a hot oven, 200 or so degrees, for 10-20 minutes. If you're cooking pork you can add the balls to the roasting tin with the meat, and I guess if you're doing it vegetarian stylee you should add any extra ingredients you fancy at the 'mixing' stage, then bake the stuffing - you can make it into any shape you like, obviously, so if you want a 'loaf' or similar go for it - in the oven as described above. The other idea I mentioned, about maybe breading and frying the balls of stuffing, should also be carried out at this stage if you wanted to try it. I'd love some feedback if anybody has a go.

Hope you enjoy today's dish, everybody. Get stuffing!

Monday 17 January 2011

Toby's BLT

A crunchy classic from that budding new cook, my boyfriend. This is definitely and absolutely the perfect bacon sandwich ever. I've called it a BLT in the title above, but this is in fact a blatant lie, because there's not a T in sight, and very little L. All you lads with hangovers out there - this one's for you.

Ingredients
(For 1)

2-3 rashers of bacon
2 slices of bread
English mustard (Colman's is my favourite)
Mayonnaise
Ketchup
Some lettuce, iceburg for preference

Recipe

It's a pretty simple one, let's face it, but the beauty is in the detail.

Cook off the bacon - in a frying pan is best, rather than on a tray in the oven, because you can keep an eye on each individual slice and make sure it's done to perfection. Fry it just as you like it - for me, the fat absolutely has to be crispy, and the meat pinkish with a lovely golden-brown crust.

While you're cooking the bacon, you need to prepare the rest of the sandwich. Lay out your two pieces of bread, and spread one with mayonnaise and the other, fairly thinly, with mustard. Put as much lettuce as you can handle (so in the case of my brother, about half an inch square) on the mayo side, and, when your bacon's ready, put it on the mustard side so the bread is well covered. Squeeze some ketchup over the bacon: again, the amount will depend on you, so if you're my brother you may need several bottles. Slap the bacon side (quickly, or it'll all fall off...) onto the lettuce side, slice in half, and chow down.

Tuesday 11 January 2011

New Year's Catch-up: A Hollandaise Bonanza

Apologies for another hugely delayed entry - a combination of New Year, flu, and a weekend cooking job. Here, therefore, is the post which you should have had round about New Year's Day...my contribution to our big bash at home: Hollandaise (and Bearnaise) Sauce.

Hollandaise Sauce


Hollandaise sauce is probably one of the most offputting of challenges for the amateur cook. It can curdle at the drop of a hat, and if you're anything like me your hand gets hideously tired holding that bowl over a pan of simmering water. Annoyingly, as well as being the most difficult, Hollandaise, along with its close cousin Bearnaise, is one of the most delicious of sauces. The former is wonderful with fish or vegetables, most famously asparagus; the latter is, to my mind, almost indispensible with a good steak and chips. 

Down to recipes, then. The classic hollandaise method is the one most at risk of splitting; Delia Smith's Foaming Hollandaise is a much less risky option; I use another recipe altogether. Mine is totally reliable, and originates from one by a friend of my mother's who runs cookery demonstrations: find her here. It's even more of a cheat than Delia's, since it uses creme fraiche, which has nothing whatsoever to do with a traditional hollandaise, as its main ingredient. It might not stand up in a direct 'sauce-to-sauce' comparison, but it tastes very, very similar to the classic version and is just as delectable with the same basic food groups. 


Hollandaise is one of my absolute favourite things to eat, and in the hope that you'll end up as obsessed with it as I am, I'm going to treat you to a little info about the traditional method of making it before I let you in on my secret cheat's recipe. 


Hollandaise sauce is an emulsion, like mayonnaise, only warm rather than cold. Most traditionally, this emulsion is formed by whisking egg yolk and acid such as vinegar or lemon juice over a low heat - use a saucepan of water, hot, but not even close to boiling, and put the egg etc in a bowl over this. You need to hold the bowl up rather than resting it on the pan, as you don't want the heat too strong. When the egg mixture is pale and creamy, you start to add butter - either melted butter, which you add very slowly on the heat, whisking constantly; or cubes of cold butter, which you add one at a time off the heat, again whisking constantly. In the latter method, acid is omitted from the recipe until the emulsion has formed, when lemon juice is added to taste. 

These methods are for some reason usually considered the superior ones, particularly in professional kitchens: probably because they're more longstanding and traditional, and call for a steady nerve and some skill in the kitchen. They are both do-able, don't get me wrong, but there are several downsides, especially for the nervous or inexperienced cook. Your hands will get tired from whisking and holding up the bowl, which, incidentally, will get a bit hot, more and more greasy from your buttery fingers, and therefore harder and harder to hold. You'll panic because the butter isn't combining properly. You'll over- or under-heat the mixture, both of which are bad - too hot, and the egg will curdle; too cool, and the butter won't melt and emulsify. And at the end of it all, the ghastly thing will curdle anyway and you'll have to run around whisking frantically and adding dashes of cold water (this does save it though, by the way). All in all, it's classic French-style cookery at its best...and it's a bit of a faff.


Slightly more friendly is the blender method, wherein the eggs are blended with acid rather than heated and whisked, and the melted butter is then poured in in a stream as you blend. It can still curdle, but it's less likely as you're not operating over direct heat. Like classic Hollandaise, that made by the blender method can be kept warm for a few hours in a thermos, or on the very edge of the aga if you have one. Delia Smith's Foaming Hollandaise - there's a link above to the recipe - is another method close to the original, but suggests whisking in stiff egg whites to stabilise the normally volatile sauce. She claims that it can then be made the day before, or even frozen and re-heated. However, I've generally found that even my cheat's Hollandaise is not at its best when cooled and re-heated, and with the ordinary sauce you run all the risks of curdling and so forth all over again.


Recipe (The Cheat's Hollandaise)


So that, in what is admittedly a fairly large nutshell, is your traditional Hollandaise. Now for a grand finale, I'll take you through the very reliable cheat's method I used on New Year's Eve (we served it with some amazing rare beef fillet, by the way) and a couple of ways to play around with your new favourite sauce.


Ingredients:

(for 4)

A medium tub of creme fraiche (Tesco finest size, not normal Tesco size!) About 3 tbsp
Tbsp cornflour
2 egg yolks
Small splash of white wine vinegar
Even smaller splash (maybe two squeezes) of lemon juice
Pinch of salt
85g soft (but not melted) butter


Method:

Now you'll understand why this is great. So. Stick all your ingredients into a small saucepan and whisk together over a medium heat. Keep whisking until it begins to simmer, but don't let it boil. It will eventually thicken.

Once it thickens, take it off the heat and check the seasoning. Add more salt, lemon, vinegar if necessary. Incidentally, when increasing the quantities for this recipe careful with the vingear and lemon - you don't need quite the same ratio for more sauce, and I've added too much before. The sauce should taste creamy with a hint of a tang, but not like straight vinegar! Remember when you first add these flavourings that you can always add more at this second stage.


Now, while it's still off the heat, whisk in the butter. Yes, all of it at once. No, it won't go wrong. Done it? That's it. Job done. 


Here are some fun ways to use your Hollandaise:


Pour it over grilled or steamed asparagus
Eat it with steamed baby carrots
Eat with any white or mild fish
Dip in some salty french fries (my personal favourite)
Eat with rare beef fillet


And a couple of more complicated ones:


Make Bearnaise sauce: 
Use tarragon vinegar instead of white wine in the above recipe. If you don't have any, get some fresh tarragon and simmer gently it in some white wine vinegar to infuse. Stir in some chopped tarragon and/or chervil to the finished sauce. (NB: traditional Bearnaise also uses finely chopped and sweated shallots in the base before adding the butter, or even infuses these with the herbs and vinegar and then discards before adding the vinegar to the sauce. I think my version tastes wicked, and that omitting the shallots, while probably an insult to a purist, need not concern the everyday cook too urgently). Eat your Bearnaise with steak and chips or similar.


Make Eggs Benedict, Eggs Florentine, or Eggs Benedict Royale:
Eggs Benedict is a delicious and filling breakfast. Take half an English muffin, toast it, and set it on a plate and top with some slices of ham (fantastic use of your final shreds of the Christmas one, by the way), a poached egg (drop the egg, without shell, into swirling hot (but not boiling water) and cook. Or use one of those little poaching gadget jobbies), and a dollop of hollandaise on top. Utterly, utterly divine. I promise you, Eggs Benedict is God's answer to mornings.
Eggs Florentine is the same, but with spinach instead of ham - not my thing, but an excellent vegetarian alternative. Eggs Benedict Royale uses smoked salmon instead of the ham; a more luxurious version, great for those who like fish for breakfast (again, not me, but each to their own). Possibly more suited to a light lunch.


Finally:

 Hollandaise is the basis, or 'mother sauce' for a variety of French 'daughter' sauces - there's Bearnaise, as described above, but you can also create a multitude of alternatives by adding different flavourings and seaasonings to the very basic 'acid, butter, egg' combination. Famous versions include Dijon sauce, or Sauce Moutarde, which adds a couple of tablespoons of dijon mustard to the basic recipe, and sauce noisette, which uses clarified and browned (but not burned!) butter in place of the fresh butter of the original. As far as I know, most of these variations should be just as possible with the more stable recipe above as with the classic sauce. 


So there you are, Hollandaise explained. I really and truly am in love with this sauce, and I hope that after you've mastered your fears with the cheat's version, and maybe even had a go at the classic one if you're feeling brave (it can work, I promise; chefs wouldn't use it if it didn't) you will love it too.