Grandmother's Oatmeal Cookies

I have few memories of my great-grandmother.  But among them, I can most vividly recall the smell of her kitchen and the taste of these oatmeal cookies. They're chewy and slightly cake-y. It's a texture that-- from familiarity, association or aesthetic-- I think is perfect.

Ingredients

• 2 c. uncooked oats
• 2 eggs
• 3/4 c. cooking oil
• 1/2 c. milk
• 1 c. chopped nuts (optional)
• 1 c. raisins
• 1/4 c. brown sugar
• 1 1/3 c. plain flour
• 3/4 c. sugar
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 Tbsp butter, cold and cut into pieces
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp ground clove
• 1/4 tsp allspice
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Preparation

1. Combine dry ingredients except for the raisins--making sure that the butter has been broken up and spread evenly throughout. 
2. Mix in wet ingredients with a spoon and fold in the raisins.
3. Drop from a tablespoon onto an ungreased cookie sheet and bake at 350ºF/180ºC for 12 minutes. Makes about 20 cookies.

If you want the quick way out, simply combine the first seven ingredients (oats, eggs, oil, milk, nuts, raisins and brown sugar) with a package of spice cake mix.

Thai Mushroom Pumpkin Soup

This little jem comes from Delicious Magazine--my favourite of the UK cooking magazines. This recipe is quick and easy. Instead of a small baby squash, I used a red kuri squash. It has a autumnal chestnut flavour that complements the dish. Here's how to do it:

Ingredients

• 2 red kuri squash
• 150mL of coconut milk
• small piece of fresh ginger
• 2 small chillies
• 1 clove of garlic
• 4 shiitake mushrooms, caps sliced
• 25g toasted pumpkin seeds (optional)
• 1 egg
• 3/4 tsp fish sauce

Method

1. Cut a lid out of your pumpkin and hollow out the inside (as though you were making a jack-o-lantern. Place it in a baking dish and the lid beside it. 
2. In a saucepan, bring the coconut milk to a simmer with the chilli and ginger. Then remove from the heat and stir in the mushrooms. 
3. To this mixture, add a beaten egg and the fish sauce and pour it inside the pumpkin. 
4. Bake for 25–30 minutes. 

I didn't care for the pumpkin seeds; they didn't soften up enough and it ruined the smooth texture of the mushrooms and coconut milk (in my opinion.)  Even so it was a combination of some of the things I love most: autumn, squash, coconut milk and mushrooms.

Happy Halloween

Greek Rabbit Stew (Κουνέλι Στιφάδο)

About ten years ago, I spent one night in the mountains just south-east of Thessaloniki. Greece had been unbearably hot for those seven weeks in June and July, and this was the one cool oasis in an otherwise scorching desert of archaeological tedium. That evening I wanted something warming. I ordered a rabbit stew and have been thinking about it from time to time ever since. This past week, I consulted a few Greek cookbooks and spoke to some Greek friends to recreate this game stew; apparently everyone who knows Greek food knows this recipe.

Finding a rabbit from a local butcher was no problem. It was already cleaned, skinned and the head removed. I had the butcher chop it into about six pieces. The rest is fairly straightforward:

Ingredients

• 1 rabbit, skinned, cleaned, head removed and cut into quarters
• 1 kg onions and shallots, whole with peeling removed
• 200 mL olive oil
• 250 mL red wine
• 3 Tbsp red wine vinegar
• 400g chopped tomatos
• 2 Tbsp tomato paste
• 2 bay leaves
• 4 cloves
• 4 cloves of garlic, whole
• 1 tsp sugar
• 500 mL chicken stock, hot
• 1 stick of cinnamon
• pinch of allspice
• salt and pepper

 Preparation

1. Rinse the rabbit and soak in some slightly vinegary, salty water. Preheat the oven to 180ºC.
2. To remove the skins from the onions easily, put them in boiling water for a few minutes. 
3. Pat the rabbit dry, and in a medium hot skillet, fry the rabbit until crispy and golden on each side. Remove from the oil and set aside.
4. De-glaze the bottom of the skillet with the red wine vinegar. Then add the red wine and reduce until almost syrupy. 
5. Add the chopped tomatoes, tomato paste, sugar and allspice into the skillet and stir until warm.
6. Put the sauce from the skillet and the rabbit into a Dutch oven. Add all the other ingredients including the hot chicken stock. 
7. Cook covered for 1 hour. After an hour, give the pot a shake to make sure that nothing is sticking and to turn the onions. Return it to the oven for an additional 50 minutes with the temperature reduced to 160ºC. 
8. Remove the lid and cook for 10 more minutes at 200ºC until the top is golden brown. Serve warm. 

When I originally made the recipe, I only used 250mL of chicken stock, but that didn't give me as much sweet, rich stock as I wanted. Just a drop of honey might be a nice offset to the additional saltiness of the stock. It's great with fresh bread or with rice.

Steak Maman Blanc

Last night was steak night here. I like how Monsieur Raymond does it. After the BBC series, The Restaurant, aired--a few cooking demonstrations were posted on the website. You can still get to his fast preparation for steak here. (Don't read the  instructions--just watch him.) My thick, beautifully marbled, aged sirloin came from Alcock's Family Butchers. 273A Banbury Road in Summertown. (Thanks, Simon!)

Fiadone

For a couple of years now, I have been fascinated with Corsica. It all started several years ago during a trip to Paris when I wandered into a tiny restaurant in the 15eme Arr. called Le Beau Violet (92 Rue Entrepreneurs). It was a single room--the chef, Roger, cooked in clear view and frequently smoked a cigarette despite the laws to the contrary. If you wanted to use the restroom, you needed to leave and walk a few doors down the street. You basically eat what Roger gives you (with the occasional choice;) deferring to his judgement is probably best. Several courses later and close to midnight, I finished the meal with dessert and some myrthe liqueur. The final course was fiadone--a Corsican lemon cheesecake made from brocciu (an AOC whey cheese produced in Corsica).

It's hard to find brocciu outside of Corsica, but you can simulate the experience using ricotta. This is a slightly grainy, lemony cheesecake with no pastry shell. And as far as cheesecakes go, it's simple to make and good for a light, summertime dessert. In the first instance, I was guided by Rolli Lucarotti's Recipes from Corsica; Clotilde has also blogged about it. Here's how to do it.

Ingredients

• 500g brocciu or ricotta
• 150g caster sugar
• 4 large or 5 medium eggs
• zest of 1 large lemon
• 1 Tbsp. eau de vie (I used some limoncello) 
• salt

Preparation

1. Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF.
2. Separate the yolks from the whites. With the yolks, combine the sugar, zest, limoncello and cheese until smooth. 
3. Add a pinch of salt to the whites and whisk them into soft peaks. Fold some of the egg whites into the cheese mixture, then fold the mixture into the remaining egg whites until combined. 
4. Pour the mixture into a buttered and floured spring form pan. 
5. Bake for 30-35 mins until golden brown on top. Remove from the oven and let cool for at least half an hour. 

Not everyone whips their egg whites--but I think this improves the texture. And with a hand-mixer, it's no big task. 

Jalapeño Cheddar Biscuits

To complement the shrimp and grits, I whipped up a quick batch of biscuits with cheddar and jalapeño. A cheesy, spicy take on White Lily cream biscuits, fast and simple. This recipe made 5 biscuits.

Ingredients:

• 1 c. all purpose flour (White Lily isn't sold in the UK.)
• 1 1/3 tsp. baking powder
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 2/3 c. heavy cream
• 1/4 mature cheddar cheese, grated
• a few pickled jalapeño peppers, diced
• butter

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 220ºC. Whisk together dry ingredients in a bowl. Pour in the heavy cream, grated cheese and chopped jalapeños, and combine with a wooden spoon. The dough will be sticky and wet. (If you have a feel for biscuit dough, this will be a little more sticky than usual. Add some flour if you think it needs it.)
2. Put the dough onto a floured work surface. Tear off balls about 2 inches in diameter and space them on a baking tray.
3. Bake about 12 minutes until the tops are golden brown. When they come out of the oven, put a small pat of butter onto the top of each one. Cool slightly and serve warm.

Shrimp & Grits

Whenever I make it back to the South, I try to fit in a meal of shrimp and grits (either at Hyman's Seafood in Charleston or The Blue Marlin in Columbia, SC.) Grits (ground hominy) are typically a breakfast food, but combined with shrimp, sausage, and gravy, they make the starchy base of a filling, sumptuous dinner. The texture of the shrimp combined with the smokiness of kielbasa, a touch of spice, the slight tang of vinegar, and unctuous cream-thickened grits is an unbeatable ensemble.

Finding grits in the UK is a feat although possible. I usually bring back a 5lb bag of quick grits--better than instant and less time-consuming that regular stone-ground grits. I got the notion to keep up the Southern cooking trend this evening and try to recreate the experience. It didn't take as much time as I thought it would. It can be easily divided into three parts: sauce, shrimp and sausage, and grits.

Ingredients:

The sauce:

• 3 Tbsp. green hot pepper sauce (I used a combination of Jamaican hot sauce and mild Tabasco with a dash of onion relish for the vinegar and sweetness)
• 3 Tbsp. dry white wine
• 1 shallot, chopped
• 1 1/2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
• 1 1/2 tsp. rice vinegar
• 1/2 c. whipping cream

The shrimp and sausage:

• 1/8 c. olive oil
• 8 oz. Polish kielbasa, sliced
• 1 green bell pepper
• 1/4 c. onion, minced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 250g shrimp (king prawns will suffice)
• 3 plum tomatoes, chopped
• 1 tsp. Jamaican spice mix (or Old Bay or equivalent)
• a dash of cayenne pepper

The grits:

• 1 c. quick grits (if you use other kinds, you'll need to change the liquid ratio)
• 1 1/2 c. water
• 1 c. whole milk
• 1/2 c. single cream
• a pat of butter

Method:

1. Combine the pepper sauce, wine, shallot, lemon juice and vinegar and boil in a saucepan over medium heat until reduced (around 8-10 minutes.) Stir in the cream. Then place this to the side.
2. For the shrimp/sausage combo, eat the olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic, bell pepper, onion, and sausage and sauté until the veggies are tender. Then add in the shrimp, spices, and tomatoes and cook until the shrimp are done. Season with salt and pepper. (This whole step takes less than 15 minutes.)
3. For the grits, bring the milk, cream, and water to a boil in a sauce pan. Whisk in the grits, turn down the heat to a simmer and stir occasionally (some make stick to the bottom of the pot). Quick grits will take about 5 minutes. Check the consistency and stir in a bit of milk or cream if their too thick. If you've whisked in the grits properly, you should have no problems with lumps--just a smooth rich porridge. Add in your butter and the end a a few pinches of salt to taste. 
4. Plate up the grits, top them with the shrimp and sausage and then drizzle on some of your spicy cream sauce. Serve hot, immediately. 

Fried Okra

Another classic Southern summer side: fried okra. This plant in the mallow family originally came from West Africa. I imagine that it ventured into the regional diet through the African influences of slave culture in the Southern colonies. For a vegetarian lunch, they're great with creamed corn, a few slices of ripe tomato, and fresh peas. You'll see plenty of places that will egg batter and deep-fry their okra, but I prefer a simple coating of cornmeal. It's quick, easy, and relatively healthy for items in the 'fried food group.' They can be expensive in major supermarkets like Tesco; look for them in Indian shops or farmers' markets. Mine came from the latter at £1.75/lb. In the US, they're much cheaper and usually easier to find.

Ingredients

• 750g okra
• 1c. cornmeal
• 1/4c. vegetable oil
• salt

1. Rinse the okra and slice into one centimetre pieces and discard the tops. 
2. In a large bowl, toss the okra in the cornmeal. (There's nothing special needed here to make the cornmeal stick. Anyone who's ever had boiled okra will know that the inside of the fruit is mucilaginous and this will make the cornmeal adhere.)
3. Heat the vegetable oil in a skillet over medium-high heat and then poor in your okra. Let it sit for a few minutes until you start to stir occasionally. You may need to sprinkle in a little extra cornmeal to keep the okra coated--just be on the lookout. 
4. In about 10-15 minutes, the okra should become soft and slightly sweet--the cornmeal should have darkened with a few spots cooked until their brown. Season with salt and serve immediately.

Boiled Peanuts

It's a popular snack in a few parts of the American South: boiled peanuts. Usually, 'green' (i.e. fresh, not dried) peanuts are boiled in brine until the shells are a soft and dark brown--the peanut itself is salty and soft like the consistency of a boiled bean. (These were, once upon a time, called 'goober peas.') In my neck of the woods, they are ubiquitous at sporting events; Cromer's of Columbia, SC seem to base their business on them.

I had a craving a couple of weeks ago, but living in the UK presents a major challenge: 'green' peanuts are nowhere to be found. Working through the British Peanut Council (yes, there is such a thing), I contacted every major peanut distributor in the country until I found that out that "peanuts are not grown commercially here in the UK or Europe, but come from such origins as USA, China, Argentina, South Africa, Vietnam, India and some emerging growers in other parts of the world - and West Africa but predominantly for the groundnut oil." The only choice here are raw, dessicated peanuts. One distributor was so kind as to send me a box since he normally sold by the metric tonne. They are also available at Tesco and Asda.

Many recipes for boiled peanuts vehemently assert that dried peanuts cannot be boiled with the same results. I was on a mission to prove them wrong. Here are the major differences: Green peanuts have a moisture content of 35–50%. Dried peanuts hover around 10%. Green peanuts are typically harvested so that the nuts are full but not at complete maturity. It's not uncommon to get a few young, unformed peanuts in a batch in the South (you can eat the whole thing, shell and all.) Dried peanuts however are more mature and selected for standard size. The varieties distributed in the UK appear to come mostly from China and SE Asia, but still have the red husk typical of the peanuts I grew up with.

After making batch after batch, I've perfected a method that works wonderfully. 

Ingredients: dry raw peanuts, cooking salt 

Method:

1. In a large pot, cover the peanuts with water. Dry peanuts have a lot of air in the shells and they will float. Make sure that if you were to push the peanuts under the water level that they could be completely submerged. 
2. Bring to the boil and simmer for 2 hours. Top up water as necessary.
3. Remove pot from the eye and allow to stand overnight. Make sure there is plenty of water covering the peanuts--they are going to soak up a lot of liquid. (I imagine that this re-hydrates the peanuts. Considering how water has to be forced out of peanuts in the preservation process, I thought it necessary to initiate the re-absorption process with boiling water--unlike one would typically do with dried beans which are allowed to dry on the vine.)
4. In the morning, add enough salt so that the water tastes as salty as sea water. (This takes a lot.) Bring to the boil and simmer for 6 hours (at least). You'll need to keep at eye on them and continue to top up the water as it boils off. 
5. Test your peanuts. Run one of them under cool water and then have a taste for consistency. Once they are soft, remove them from the eye and let them sit in the brine. This will make them saltier. Once cooled, refrigerate and they are ready to eat.

Fried Cornbread

Last week I bought a couple of kilos of cornmeal and have been looking for something to do with it. Yesterday afternoon, I thought about another distinctly Southern dish from my childhood: fried cornbread. They're super simple.

Ingredients

• 1 c. cornmeal
• 1/2 c. self-rising flour (add 1/2 tsp salt if you are in the UK)
• 1 egg
• 1/4 c. vegetable oil
• milk
• 2 jalapeños, seeded and diced or one finely chopped Scotch bonnet (optional)
• diced onions, shallots or scallions (optional)
• 50g grated cheddar cheese

1. Combine cornmeal, flour, egg, and vegetable oil in a bowl. Add enough milk to make a batter. (Just mix in a little bit at a time and pay attention to the consistency.) Stir in your jalapeños and onions.
2. Heat a skillet with a few tablespoons of vegetable oil over medium heat.
3. Using a 1/4 c. measure (or thereabouts), spoon out the batter into the skillet.
4. When the cornbread starts to look dry around the edges, they're ready to flip.

These are great with something that has a broth with them (beans, etc.) We often have them around New Years with black-eyed peas and collard greens.

Beef Empanadas

Cookbooks are a weakness. It's something about their utility that allows me to loosen my resolve and buy them even though there are millions of recipes and instructions available online. My latest purchase had already been vetted by some friends with great results: it's Michel Roux's Pastry: Savoury and Sweet. Unlike his cookbook on sauces, this volume tells you how to make the dishes to accompany his various kinds of pastry. The first attempt was beef empanadas (or empanadillas, as they are known in Spain). Definitely worth the effort...

Feijoada (Brazilian Black Bean Stew)

As chance would have it, we have a Brazilian Café here that has a fantastic lunch-time dish: Feijoada (fay-uh-WAD-uh). It is, by my estimation, a Portuguese cassoulet. The starchy base is made with black beans and onions with a protein-y richness from ham hock, lardons, and sausage. I've slow-cooked mine all day, and the results are spot-on. Here's how I did it.

Ingredients:

• 500g black beans
• 2 onions, diced
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced
• 150g Keilbasa sausage, sliced
• 1 smoked gammon knuckle (ham hock)
• 250g bacon lardons, diced
• 2 Tbsp vegetable oil

1. Soak the black beans overnight. 
2. In a large Dutch oven, sauté the onions in half of the vegetable oil until translucent. Add in the garlic and stir for another 2 minutes. Next, pour in the drained black beans and cover with water. Bring to the boil and let simmer for 2 hours.
3. In a separate pot, cover the smoked ham hock with water, bring to the boil and let simmer for 2 hours. 
4. Reserve the broth from the simmering ham hock. At this point the meat should almost be falling off the bone. Place meat in a foil-lined pan along with the sausage and diced bacon lardons. 
5. Here the key step: put all the meat under the broiler and keep a close eye on it, stirring it around. You want the meat to get crispy on the edges. 
6. At this point, your beans should be fully cooked and the starch from them should have thickened the broth. Add in the char-grilled meats and top up the liquid in the pot using some of the broth reserved from the simmer ham hock. Add some freshly ground pepper to taste. Simmer an additional 20-30 minutes. 
7. Serve warm over rice or fufu.

Iced Mint Aguas Frescas

It's another sunny day here--just right for something cool and refreshing. The perfect touch would be some agua de horchata; sadly, that's hard to come by on this side of the Atlantic. Here's a flavour-packed variation on aguas frescas from chef Sherry Yard of Spago in LA. (All this thanks to Food & Wine 2006.)

Ingredients

• 1.5 c. sugar
• 3 Tbsp honey
• 2 c. water
• 1/3 c. fresh ginger slices
• 2 oz. mint sprigs, leaves only
• 1/4 c. plus 2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
• 1.5 L chilled sparkling water

1. Bring water, sugar, and honey to the boil, stirring constantly until the sugar dissolves. Remove syrup from heat and add the slices of ginger and mint leaves. Let stand until cool (about 1 hour).
2.  Strain syrup into a large pitcher, and squeeze the ginger and mint to remove all the liquid. Refrigerate for at least 30 mins. (At this stage you can stop and refrigerate up to a week.)
3. Add the remaining mint leaves and lemon juice to the pitcher. Stir in the sparkling water and serve over ice. 

Definitely serve over ice. I preferred mine slightly more diluted--it reduced the sweetness and brought out the flavour of the ginger. 

White Bean and Chorizo Salad

It's another warm day here--and for other reasons, I haven't had much of an appetite lately; nothing was going to hit the spot like another chilled salad. Since I was introduced to the chorizo-based confection, my life has never been the same. Here's a modification of an old Food & Wine recipe.

Ingredients:

• 1 can of cannellini beans
• 3 oz of finely diced chorizo
• 1/2 small onion, finely chopped
• 1/4c. bell pepper, finely chopped
• 1/4c. flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
• 1/4 t. dried oregano
• 1/8 t. cumin seeds
• 1/2 spicy red pepper, chopped (for a little extra spice)
• 1/4c. e.v.o.o. (or less)
• 1 T. red wine vinegar
• 1T. balsamic vinegar
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Fresh spinach
• 1 radish, thinly sliced
• A few black olives

1. Combine all the ingredients except for the olives, radish and spinach. Refrigerate for half an hour.
2. Spread out your spinach greens, add on a scoop of the bean salad and garnish with the olives and radishes.

W. T. Gibbons, Baker Etc.

Yesterday we finally had a warm summer day here in Britain. I took the opportunity to dust off an old classic: the marinated caprese. (You can also get some vine ripe tomatoes now at the grocery or farmers' market that aren't tasteless, mealy orange balls.) But when the caprese is gone and there's oil and vinegar in the bottom of the bowl, nothing mops it up like a good piece of crusty bread. I didn't have any on hand yesterday, but it reminded me of one of my favourite gems: W. T. Gibbons, Baker Etc. It's down Cowley Rd. (16 Hertford St.) and with obscure opening hours (M–F 8h15–13h00, 15h00–16h00; Sat. 8h15–14h00), but well worth the trip. They usually have several different kinds of bread on offer from Cotswold Crunch to your basic white. They also sell rolls, eggs, and raw pizza dough (which we've also tried--it's great; you just have to use it the day you buy it.)

I don't have a price list, but the other great thing about it--it's dirt cheap. We walked out one day with a large loaf of bread, six rolls, and some pizza dough for under £2. There's clearly a local following; the lady who runs the bakery seems to know every one that comes in the door. As you might expect with a place like this, they do run out of items--so get there early to have your pick. 

New Salt Cellar

Not so rustic but a welcomed addition. The weekly antiques market in Gloucester Green has plenty of dealers with solid silver or silver-plated tableware. This little gem (which required some serious polishing) was only £5.

Madeleines

At this point, one should probably eschew that well-worn, tea-soaked reference to Proust when talking about the fantastic fusion of cookie and cake that is the madeleine. For him, it may have brought back visions of the past, but for me, it's quite the opposite. There are moments, simple and innocent ones, that remind me of the buttery, citrusy madeleine.

A few years ago I bought a silicon madeleine pan from the culinary mecca that is E. Dehillerin. It, unlike my copy of Larousse Gastronomique (which provided the recipe), has never been used.


Ingredients

• 100g melted butter, not hot
• juice from half a lemon
• pinch of salt
• 125g caster sugar
• 3 eggs and 1 egg yolk
• 125g self-raising flour

1. Without a silicon pan, one should butter the moulds.
2. Combine the lemon juice, salt, sugar and eggs. Mix well.
3. Sprinkle in the flour and combine until smooth.
4. Add the melted butter and combine.
5. Fill the moulds about two-thirds of the way up.
6. Bake in a pre-heated over at 180ºC for 25 minutes.
7. Turn them out on a rack and allow to cool. 

With my fan-assisted oven, it took 22 mins at 165ºC to get the results you see in the photo above. The texture was just as I had remembered it.

Rice & Peas: A Teetotaler's Liquor

There is absolutely no reason to post a recipe for such a simple concoction.

My grandfather was a consummate Teetotaler. From time to time however, he would sit back in his chair and wax eloquent about the joys of 'pot liquor.' Although I am told that in traditional parlance this refers to the liquid in the pot after cooking a mess of greens (collard or otherwise), for my grandfather, it invariably referred to the broth after cooking black-eyed peas or fresh field peas (frequently flavoured with a strip of bacon or part of a ham bone.) Served over rice or with cornbread, it wouldn't last very long.

In keeping with his Depression-era outlook on food costs, it's extremely economical. Tesco sells a convenient package of chopped lardons for £1. Dried black-eyed peas and rice are dirt cheap. Contrary to the cooking instructions, I like to let these beans cook for a couple of hours even after soaking all night. Bring to the boil and simmer on low. My grandmother used to leave them on the stove almost all day; she'd turn off the heat until someone came in the back door and then put them on low again to offer them something to eat. For an extra kick, I like to add a little chopped pickled jalapeño or a few dashes of habañero Tabasco® sauce and a freshly chopped tomato.