Category: food

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food: Hoisin Pork

Hoisin Pork, Linda Reid stylee.

Ingredients:
2 x pork fillet steaks
5 cm fresh ginger, chopped very finely, pulped even
1 large clove of garlic, crushed
2 tbsp Hoisin sauce
2 tbsp dark soy sauce
2 tsp light soft brown sugar
1 tsp five spice powder
2 tbsp sunflower oil
2 tbsp honey

Method:
Trim any fat off the pork, leave them whole but flatten them a little. Place the pork and marinade ingredients in a plastic bag or sealable box and make sure everything is completely mixed and covered. Leave in the fridge for at least two hours or preferably overnight. Remove from marinade and cook over a medium heat until cooked through. Don’t pierce the meat unless you want to lose your juices.

If there’s marinade left over, I stick it in a pot and cook it up, possibly adding a little chopped tomato to make a pouring sauce.

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food: curried cauliflower & potato soup

A warming soup for late Autumn. Not the most attractive soup you’ve ever seen, but blessed with restorative properties like its counterpart, Chicken Soup. The turmeric is an attempt to make its colour a little less wan.

INGREDIENTS

  • half a cauliflower, chopped
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 2 medium/large potatoes, peeled & diced
  • 1 head of garlic, roughly chopped. Yes, a whole head.
  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • 1 tsp each of coriander, cumin & fennel seeds
  • 1 tsp each of turmeric & chilli flakes
  • 1 heaped tsp hot curry powder (or to taste)
  • 1.5 litres good quality stock

METHOD

In a large pot soften the onion and garlic in the olive oil for a few minutes, then add the cauliflower florets and potato. Throw in the various seeds, turmeric, chilli flakes and curry powder and allow to cook for a few minutes more before adding the stock. It should smell amazing. Bring up to a slow boil and cook for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are all cooked through. Then pass the soup through a blender to pulverise the lumps (but not to the extent that it’s creamed) and return to the heat.

Serve in white bowls with hunks of bread.

And for those of you brave enough, you could try adding a bit of stilton or gorgonzola, something a bit blue from the cheese department for that extra bite.

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curried cauliflower & potato soup

A warming soup for late Autumn. Not the most attractive soup you’ve ever seen, but blessed with restorative properties like its counterpart, Chicken Soup. The turmeric is an attempt to make its colour a little less wan.

INGREDIENTS

  • half a cauliflower, chopped
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 2 medium/large potatoes, peeled & diced
  • 1 head of garlic, roughly chopped. Yes, a whole head.
  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • 1 tsp each of coriander, cumin & fennel seeds
  • 1 tsp each of turmeric & chilli flakes
  • 1 heaped tsp hot curry powder (or to taste)
  • 1.5 litres good quality stock

METHOD

In a large pot soften the onion and garlic in the olive oil for a few minutes, then add the cauliflower florets and potato. Throw in the various seeds, turmeric, chilli flakes and curry powder and allow to cook for a few minutes more before adding the stock. It should smell amazing. Bring up to a slow boil and cook for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are all cooked through. Then pass the soup through a blender to pulverise the lumps (but not to the extent that it’s creamed) and return to the heat.

Serve in white bowls with hunks of bread.

And for those of you brave enough, you could try adding a bit of stilton or gorgonzola, something a bit blue from the cheese department for that extra bite.

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food: Gambas with Linguini and sliced Garlic

Mulloy’s of Baggot St. sell these large prawns called Gambas, which come from somewhere off the coast of Portugal. They’re very expensive but worth the price I think. Four each is plenty, three ideal. Any more is sheer piggery.

I use a cast iron skillet for cooking the gambas because I like the blackening/burning it imparts with the best knife sharpener , but you could equally use a heavy pan and oven combination. Whatever works for you …
The timing of this dish is critical since you ideally want all three elements (pasta, flavoured oil and gambas) ready at the same time when you’re assembling it. Overcook any of the elements and it’ll be disappointing. Therefore, I’d rate this as a medium-stress dish with a high toothsomeness quotient.

Ingredients:
12 large gambas, whole (~15cm stem to stern)
4 cloves of garlic, shaved in slices – think Ray Liotta in Goodfellas
2 cloves of garlic roughly chopped
1 large handful flat-leafed parsley, finely chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
4 tbsp sunflower oil
1 red chili, finely sliced on the diagonal, seeds and pith discarded
linguini (or spaghetti)
quarter tsp berebere

Method:
I’m adopted a NASA-style convention for the countdown coz that’s how I am – part engineer, part cook.

[T -40] Rinse the gambas under running cold water and pat dry. Put them in a large bowl, pushing in various feelers, legs and other unknown appendages. Sprinkle over two roughly chopped cloves of garlic, 2 tbsp of the sunflower oil and then the berbere – paprika will do fine instead. Mix together and set aside for 31 minutes. This flavouring ultimately ends up on your fingers during eating and is actually for licking off – I’m not sure it imparts any discernible flavour to the flesh. But, y’know, whatever you like yourself, you could add Marmite if that’s what you’re into. [T -30] Turn your oven to 200 C. [T -20] Set a large pan of water to boil and start warming a large circular bowl for presenting the dish – square or rectangular won’t do as they’d ruin the angular juxtaposition of the toothsome crustaceans. [T -15] Stick your pan on a low gas to warm or heat your skillet to ferocious. [T -11] Next thing to do is start your linguini cooking (depending on the brand & cooking time). [T -9] Put your gambas on the skillet or pan, scraping all the oily, garlicky goodness in on top. Cook for 3 minutes a side, or until you’re confident they’re cooked through. I generally finish them off in the hot oven for a further three minutes just to be sure. Nothing like a bad prawn to give you a future aversion to seafood. [T -6] Finely chop your parsley and set aside. Next, heat the remaining sunflower oil in a small pot and add the shaved garlic – the idea is to cook the garlic till it turns crispy and caramelised. When it’s beginning to brown, chuck in the sliced chili. When the garlic is crispy, remove from the heat and add the olive oil for flavour. Keep warm. The oil, garlic & chili that is, you yourself will be positively glistering with kitchen activity.

[T zero] Drain the pasta and put into your pre-warmed circular bowl with a tbsp or two of the cooking liquor, pour on the garlic and chili and mix in the parsley. Arrange the gambas on top and serve immediately with a chilled white wine and finger-bowls. Oh, and a bowl for heads and other discarded body parts.

Feeds 3 or 4.

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Gambas with Linguini and sliced Garlic

Mulloy’s of Baggot St. sell these large prawns called Gambas, which come from somewhere off the coast of Portugal. They’re very expensive but worth the price I think. Four each is plenty, three ideal. Any more is sheer piggery.

I use a cast iron skillet for cooking the gambas because I like the blackening/burning it imparts, but you could equally use a heavy pan and oven combination. Whatever works for you …

The timing of this dish is critical since you ideally want all three elements (pasta, flavoured oil and gambas) ready at the same time when you’re assembling it. Overcook any of the elements and it’ll be disappointing. Therefore, I’d rate this as a medium-stress dish with a high toothsomeness quotient.

Ingredients:
12 large gambas, whole (~15cm stem to stern)
4 cloves of garlic, shaved in slices – think Ray Liotta in Goodfellas
2 cloves of garlic roughly chopped
1 large handful flat-leafed parsley, finely chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
4 tbsp sunflower oil
1 red chili, finely sliced on the diagonal, seeds and pith discarded
linguini (or spaghetti)
quarter tsp berebere

Method:
I’m adopted a NASA-style convention for the countdown coz that’s how I am – part engineer, part cook.

[T -40] Rinse the gambas under running cold water and pat dry. Put them in a large bowl, pushing in various feelers, legs and other unknown appendages. Sprinkle over two roughly chopped cloves of garlic, 2 tbsp of the sunflower oil and then the berbere – paprika will do fine instead. Mix together and set aside for 31 minutes. This flavouring ultimately ends up on your fingers during eating and is actually for licking off – I’m not sure it imparts any discernible flavour to the flesh. But, y’know, whatever you like yourself, you could add Marmite if that’s what you’re into. [T -30] Turn your oven to 200 C. [T -20] Set a large pan of water to boil and start warming a large circular bowl for presenting the dish – square or rectangular won’t do as they’d ruin the angular juxtaposition of the toothsome crustaceans. [T -15] Stick your pan on a low gas to warm or heat your skillet to ferocious. [T -11] Next thing to do is start your linguini cooking (depending on the brand & cooking time). [T -9] Put your gambas on the skillet or pan, scraping all the oily, garlicky goodness in on top. Cook for 3 minutes a side, or until you’re confident they’re cooked through. I generally finish them off in the hot oven for a further three minutes just to be sure. Nothing like a bad prawn to give you a future aversion to seafood. [T -6] Finely chop your parsley and set aside. Next, heat the remaining sunflower oil in a small pot and add the shaved garlic – the idea is to cook the garlic till it turns crispy and caramelised. When it’s beginning to brown, chuck in the sliced chili. When the garlic is crispy, remove from the heat and add the olive oil for flavour. Keep warm. The oil, garlic & chili that is, you yourself will be positively glistering with kitchen activity.

[T zero] Drain the pasta and put into your pre-warmed circular bowl with a tbsp or two of the cooking liquor, pour on the garlic and chili and mix in the parsley. Arrange the gambas on top and serve immediately with a chilled white wine and finger-bowls. Oh, and a bowl for heads and other discarded body parts.

Feeds 3 or 4.

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Roast Fennel & Tomato Soup

fennel_face

A fantastic soup with a great colour and flavour.

INGREDIENTS

  • 1 large bulb fennel, sliced
  • 200 g cherry tomatoes
  • 1 large carrot, chopped
  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, peeled
  • 1 tbsp chopped rosemary
  • 1 bayleaf
  • 750 ml stock
  • 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar

fennel_soup

METHOD

Roughly chop the fennel, carrot and garlic and throw into a roasting tin along with the tomatoes and olive oil. Roast in a medium oven for about an hour. Burning a little won’t do it any harm.

Then transfer all these ingredients into a pan with the stock and herbs. Make sure to scrape off any burnt bits stuck to the pan as these will augment the flavour. Add the balsamic and simmer for ten minutes. Liquidise thoroughly and pass through a fine sieve. Check the seasoning and serve immediately.

Feeds 4.

I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the leftover pulp – I’ve made the soup without straining it, but it’s very heavy and definitely works better as a broth. I’ve used the pulp to pad out pies the next day, which is moderately successful, especially in the winter.

If you are trying to look for a compact griller which has additional internal space to cook various items at the same time, then visit YunnanKitchen.com.

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curry paste

In my search for the benefits of turmeric, I found this recipe for making a curry paste and decided I must try it! Turmeric can be used as an alternative to curry powder. It is the basis of a lot of Indian cooking, so it’s handy to have some in the fridge.

This stuff is delicious, pungent, aromatic and can be heat-regulated by increasing or decreasing the amount of chilli powder or chillies. It keeps for a month in an airtight jar in the fridge.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup coriander seed
4 tbsp cumin seed
2 tbsp fennel seed
2 tbsp fenugreek seed
4 dried red chillies
5 curry leaves
1 tbsl chilli powder
1 tbsp turmeric
2/3 cup wine vinegar
1 cup vegetable oil

Method:

Grind the whole spices to a powder in a spice mill, or grinder. Transfer to a bowl and add the remaining spices. Add the wine vinegar and mix into a paste. Add about 5 tbsp water to the mixture tp loosen it a bit. Heat the oil in a heavy frying pan, and stir fry the paste for about 10 minutes. Allow to cool a bit before putting it into airtight jars and then refrigerating. I used a lot less oil than the prescribed cup. If the mixture looks a bit too dry after stir frying, you can always add a bit more later.

If you want to make a curry powder instead of the paste, just follow the deviation above and don’t add any oil, water or vinegar.

Note:

Turmeric tends to stain everything yellow, so don’t use anything too porous when you’re making it.

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Asparagus Pee

Hmm. Strange one this. Apparently some of us do and some of us don’t. Have stinky pee after eating asparagus that is. I know I’ve raised the odd eyebrow at the odd dining occasion when enquiring of my fellow eaters if their pee smells after eating asparagus. For those of us in the know, we’ve developed a code for the micturition of stinky pee; we nod knowingly at each other and proclaim having had a moment, or an asparagus moment if you prefer.

After rummaging round in various parts of the ‘net, I’ve come to the conclusion that nobody really knows why, not even the venerable urologist. Some suggest that it is the consumer of asparagus that it the offender, others suggest that the beauty is in the eye of the beholder as it were, or in this case the nose of the offender. What has been established though is that in one poll, only 22% of respondents have fessed up to the affliction.

One thing is for sure, cometh the season, cometh the odiferous pee. About mid to late April for us here in Ireland. And I’ll be there, polling my eating-mates about my preoccupation.

And if you’re interested in a T-shirt, well, you can get a range of them here.

In the meantime, while waiting for your P-shirt to arrive, you can gently poach a few of the mighty spears for a few minutes, crank on your grill, lay the poached asparagi on the griddle, sprinkly with shaved parmesan, a little balsamic and grill till bubbling. Delicious. Or use your broiler of you’re so geographically disposed.

An excellent source of vitamins A, B and C.

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food: Sam’s slow shoulder of pork

 

I’m not sure of the provenance of this recipe, but I’m attributing it to my mate Sam, who has served it up at his and Eileen’s New Year’s Eve party for the last few years …

Feeds 20 and takes 24 hours to cook, not suitable for vegetarians or other anomalies on the gastro-continuum.

Method:

First, order up the shoulder of pork. You need a 10kg piece, and it may be called something different in your neck of the woods, possibly a forequarter of pork. Ask the butcher to score the fat. Let it come to room temperature while you make the rub. And turn on your oven full blast, as high as it’ll go within reason, say 250C.

Aye, there’s the rub:

You’ll have plenty of opportunity to sleep: perchance to dream with this recipe since it takes a full 24 hours to cook (note the literary reference for all you Shakespeareans out there). For the rub, mix some garlic (say about 8 cloves), a teaspoon or more of chilli flakes, a large knob of peeled fresh ginger, a tablespoon of wine vinegar and two of olive oil together. Chuck it all into your biggest, baddest mortar and pestle and pound to oblivion. The proportions are a little vague, but make enough paste to cover the meat, rub it into the scored fat especially. Use your hands for this, since it’ll put you in touch with your animal self. Keep a little of the rub back for later.

Next, stick your smeared joint on a rack, skin side up, and slide into the blazing oven. It’s surprising how heavy 10 kilos feels while your arms are extended, so if you’re weak or faint of heart, get somebody stronger to do it for you.

After about half an hour to 40 minutes, by which time your kitchen will be smelling glorious, remove the beast and, using oven gloves or similar, turn the cut the other way, skin side down, and mash the remaining rub into the exposed side.

Turn your oven down very low, say 120C or gas mark 1/2, put the shoulder back into the oven and cook for a long time. About a day. The slow oven in your Aga would be perfect for this. You can’t overcook the meat at this temperature, so it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit longer.

Finishing:

About half an hour before you want to eat, crank the oven back up high again, turn the meat skin side up and blast with heat for perfect crackling. Then serve. It will probably fall apart on the platter, so carving isn’t really the operative word, more like pulling or rending. Pour off the fat and make a gravy with what’s left at the bottom of the roasting tin. Serve with red cabbage and a celeriac mash.

Thanks again, Sam.

Addendum:
After a modicum of googling, it would appear that this recipe is from the toothsome Nigella, who in turn borrowed it from the second River Café Cookbook, and God only knows where it came from before that. So I don’t feel lazy or guilty (just hungover) because neither Sam nor I will ever be as beautiful or rich as Nigella, and it wasn’t her idea anyway.

Posted on

Sam’s slow shoulder of pork

 

I’m not sure of the provenance of this recipe, but I’m attributing it to my mate Sam, who has served it up at his and Eileen’s New Year’s Eve party for the last few years …

Feeds 20 and takes 24 hours to cook, not suitable for vegetarians or other anomalies on the gastro-continuum.

Method:

First, order up the shoulder of pork. You need a 10kg piece, and it may be called something different in your neck of the woods, possibly a forequarter of pork. Ask the butcher to score the fat. Let it come to room temperature while you make the rub. And turn on your oven full blast, as high as it’ll go within reason, say 250C.

Aye, there’s the rub:

You’ll have plenty of opportunity to sleep: perchance to dream with this recipe since it takes a full 24 hours to cook (note the literary reference for all you Shakespeareans out there). For the rub, mix some garlic (say about 8 cloves), a teaspoon or more of chilli flakes, a large knob of peeled fresh ginger, a tablespoon of wine vinegar and two of olive oil together. Chuck it all into your biggest, baddest mortar and pestle and pound to oblivion. The proportions are a little vague, but make enough paste to cover the meat, rub it into the scored fat especially. Use your hands for this, since it’ll put you in touch with your animal self. Keep a little of the rub back for later.

Next, stick your smeared joint on a rack, skin side up, and slide into the blazing oven. It’s surprising how heavy 10 kilos feels while your arms are extended, so if you’re weak or faint of heart, get somebody stronger to do it for you.

After about half an hour to 40 minutes, by which time your kitchen will be smelling glorious, remove the beast and, using oven gloves or similar, turn the cut the other way, skin side down, and mash the remaining rub into the exposed side.

Turn your oven down very low, say 120C or gas mark 1/2, put the shoulder back into the oven and cook for a long time. About a day. The slow oven in your Aga would be perfect for this. You can’t overcook the meat at this temperature, so it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit longer.

Finishing:

About half an hour before you want to eat, crank the oven back up high again, turn the meat skin side up and blast with heat for perfect crackling. Then serve. It will probably fall apart on the platter, so carving isn’t really the operative word, more like pulling or rending. Pour off the fat and make a gravy with what’s left at the bottom of the roasting tin. Serve with red cabbage and a celeriac mash.

Thanks again, Sam.

Addendum:
After a modicum of googling, it would appear that this recipe is from the toothsome Nigella, who in turn borrowed it from the second River Café Cookbook, and God only knows where it came from before that. So I don’t feel lazy or guilty (just hungover) because neither Sam nor I will ever be as beautiful or rich as Nigella, and it wasn’t her idea anyway.