Comfort in a Bowl (the other winter vegetables)

I do realise that a recent post focused on a winter vegetable soup, but this one is not your average winter potage and it's also tastier than any other I've had recently.

Along with my New Year's resolution to 'travel more' (I find these kinds of would-like-to-do -anyway objectives far easier to fulfill than those based on deprivation and restraint), I thought I might also reaffirm my belief in no-waste cooking. I shall cook with what lyeth in the darkest recesses of the cupboards, and I shall like what comes of it. Or else. Or be defeated trying.

This week's challenge brought about this roasted red pepper and Butternut squash soup, which has a few warming ingredients to liven up even the greyest of grey British January days. Ginger and red chillies add some sweet heat, and the addition of parsley stems, fresh tomatoes, green chillies and creme fraiche render the dish both more visually appealing and more texturally interesting. I also advise moderation when blending soups in a blender--a few chunky bits are always welcome so as not to create something that resembles baby food (as so many store-bought soups do).

So, without further ado:

Yield: 3-4 portions

1 Butternut squash (peeled, seeded, and cut into roughly 3-cm cubes)
1 large red Bell pepper/capsicum (rinsed, seeded, and cut into 4-5 thick segments, lengthwise)

2 Tbs. Dijon mustard
2-cm cube of fresh ginger, minced
1 Tbs. clear honey
1 red chili (rinsed, seeded, minced)
1 Tbs. fresh lemon juice
5-6 Tbs. olive oil (enough to coat all the veg)
Salt and ground black pepper

2-3 cups vegetable or chicken stock
2 cloves garlic (one whole, peeled, one peeled and minced)
1 small white onion (peeled and quartered)

3/4 cup fresh parsley or coriander (or mix of both) (rinsed, leaves roughly chopped, stems reserved)
4 Tbs. creme fraiche (plus more to serve on the side)
1 green chili, minced
1 red chili, minced
Fresh tomatoes (washed, roughly chopped)

Preheat the oven (on the broil setting) to 200 C, with one rack elevated to near the broiler). Place prepared Butternut squash and pepper onto a shallow baking tray and use a fork to mix the above five ingredients together. Pour over veg in the baking tray, tossing the veg until all is coated in the oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Roast the veg for about 30-40 minutes, or until soft and the edges caramelised. Meanwhile, heat the stock to a simmer over a medium-low flame and add the whole garlic clove and quartered onion. Continue to simmer on a low flame until the veg is fully roasted.

Transfer the roasted veg and scrape any oil from the tray into a blender. Add parsley/coriander stems and one cup of stock (garlic and onion included) and blend (make sure the top of the blender is not fully closed, as steam will need to escape!), adding more stock as needed. Pour half of the soup into a pot or serving tureen (so that some of it remains chunky) and blend remaining soup, with more stock if necessary. Transfer all of the liquid into a serving bowl and stir through 4 Tbs. of creme fraiche.

Arrange chopped chillis, tomatoes, and parsley, coriander, or both, on a plate and serve alongside soup, as well as a few lemon wedges and extra creme fraiche.

Inaugurating the Mortar and Pestle

May the gods of flat letting be praised: I have a place to live. With the end of my cushy student housing contract looming, these past days have been rather hair-raising.

The exciting thing is that the new pad is not far from one of Oxford's Asian markets, and there, tucked away in a dusty corner of racks of plastic wash bins, woks, and wire baskets it called to me:

a Thai granite mortar and pestle, not unlike this one.

Try to imagine, as hard as it may be, life without a food processor. Difficult, I know. Yet now, dear reader, you realise how joyous a day it was when my hand mixer came into my life. And now, to add to the pantheon of gadgets, a mortar and pestle!

This new acquisition and subsequent christening meant one thing: curry.

I trotted over to the market and picked up lemongrass, baby Thai aubergines (if you haven't tried these yet, do!), shallots, chilis, nam pla (fish sauce), sambal oelec (chili paste), fresh turmeric (you'll never go back to powdered), galangal, and peanuts.

I had diligently watched Rick Stein travel his way through Asia on his 'Rick Stein's Far Eastern Odyssey', and I was hungry. The pastes used as the bases for the dishes explored and explained in Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Bali, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka had such striking colours, interesting textures, and left me yearning for the mingling aromas of lemongrass, fresh turmeric, and chilis.

The only disappointment I feel obliged to express here is a certain Eurocentrism that coloured his commentary. Perhaps Oxford's post-colonial contingent of the English Faculty was as small then as it is now, but I really did expect a more enlightened, less complacent tone from the OBE. Whether the writer(s) was Stein himself or a group of BBC producers, either way, Stein's reluctance to walk along a Phuket beach because--he states more than once--it would be too cliche does not jive with observations of rural Bangladesh like, 'It looked to me like scenes from ancient Egypt along the flood planes along the Nile', and 'thanks to a massive population, everything is done by hand'.

Somehow, I have to believe that the back-breaking labour of brick makers and rice paddy workers has far less to do with mere population numbers and much more to do with global trade and the exploitation of a product and a people (particularly the rural populations) by Western consumers who aren't willing to pay the true price of their imported goods.

Another line pulled me up short: 'I feel slightly proud of being British because we introduced tea to Assam. And here it is, it came from China in the first place'. This sense of (misplaced?) pride and awe is a constant throughout the series, with Stein focusing far less on the realities currently facing the people of these countries than on romantic asides that smack of nostalgia for the days of Conrad. While it certainly must have been exciting times in Assam in 1838 when that first dispatch of 160 Kg of tea was sent to be sold at London's India House, not one word was mentioned of the tea crisis in India of the past decade. The British did not 'introduce tea to Assam', but certain multinational corporations who shall remain nameless have succeeded in fostering a growing preference for soft drinks, which, along with the global financial crisis, continues to threaten the tea industry in India, Kenya, and Sri Lanka.

I truly do enjoy listening to Stein talk about food. It's clear that his awe and affinity for Asia comes from a place of respect and good intentions; I just wish the travelogue commentary could have stuck to food, or, better yet, acknowledged the hardships faced by those in the food production industry of these countries.

OK, now that that is off my chest, back to this recipe. I freely admit that this concoction is in no way an 'authentic' version of any one national dish. It is, rather, what I found to be a combination of flavours that are largely Thai, but one that certainly does not strictly adhere to what a Thai curry should entail.

Annie's 'Thai' Curry:
(yields approximately 4 portions)

4 garlic cloves
7 shallots (substitution: 2 small red onions)
2 1-cm cubes fresh turmeric
1 stalk lemongrass
1 1-cm cube galangal
2 handfuls of plain (not roasted) peanuts
3 red Thai chilis (bird's eye), 3 green Thai chilis (to taste)
4-5 Tbs. sambal oelek (to taste)
1 tsp. lime zest
Juice of 2-3 limes (to taste--I like lots of chili and lots of lime)
4 Tbs. nam pla
1 Tbs. ground corriander
1 Tbs. ground cumin
1 Tbs. garam masala
Fresh corriander
Salt

4 chicken breasts
4 baby Thai aubergines
4 tomatoes (with or without skin)
2 Tbs. palm sugar
1 can coconut milk

Jasmine rice

1. Toast the peanuts in a skillet, and get to chopping!

2. Chop as finely as possible and add to the mortar: shallots, garlic (use a garlic press), lime zest, tumeric, galangal, and chilis.

3. Cut the root tip off of the lemongrass and pummel the length of the shoot with a rolling pin to soften the inner flesh and chop finely. Add to the mortar and, using the pestle, work into a paste. One small handful at a time, add the toasted peanuts, alternating with lime juice, and sambal oelec. Then add the dry spices to taste.

4. Cut the rinsed aubergines with tops removed into quarters, lightly salt, and sauté in a deep pan until just brown in a few tablespoons of oil. Remove and set aside.

5. Cut the chicken breasts into small, bite-sized pieces, salt and pepper, and brown in the same pan, adding a small amount of oil, as needed. While the chicken browns, add about 10 shakes of nam pla. Remove browned chicken and set aside.

6. Add enough oil to barely cover the bottom of the pan, bring to medium-high heat, and add the paste from the mortar. Stir-fry the paste for about two minutes, then add the chicken, aubergines, tomatoes, and a few shakes more of nam pla. Let cook, stirring often for about 4 minutes. Then, add a palmful of palm sugar and as much coconut milk as you'd like (I used about 3/4 can to make a lot of creamy sauce). Lower the heat to medium-low and let the curry simmer for at least 20 minutes. For a rich curry, add the entire can of coconut milk and let the curry reduce further.

Serve with jasmine rice, fresh coriander, and chopped peanuts.

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Baked Fish

Attention, graduate students! You, too, can cook fish.

I know, I know: but money, but time, but technique, oh my!

Fear not. It has been a humdinger of a week with a d-day of another sort looming (submission of master’s dissertation on June 15th!), yet these two fish dishes came through for meals with friends this week. Both use a limited number of ingredients that are variable and easy to find —perfect for a last-minute creation using whatever happens to be loitering in the back of the fridge.

One hint for the grad student budget: get to know your local fishmonger and find out their delivery schedule. If you tend to cook salmon, for example, find out on which days the catch is delivered and try to stop by towards the end of that day, when the demand to move the produce is greatest—sometimes there are really good deals to be had! For both the haddock and the (organic, farm-raised) salmon used in the recipes below I was able to keep to a budget of 4-5 GBP/person.

The first recipe is an adaptation of Ina Garten’s ‘Mustard-Roasted Fish’ from her book Barefoot Contessa: Back to Basics.

This is the original list of ingredients for 4 servings:

4 (8-ounces) fish fillets
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
8 ounces crème fraiche
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard
2 tablespoons minced shallots
2 teaspoons drained capers

My haddock fillets came in two, approximately 16 ounce fillets, and I thought it best to keep them large and whole rather than cut them into smaller portions. This seemed to keep the fish more moist. The first ingredient substitutions were necessitated by the fact that, for some reason, Marks & Spencer’s had a run on capers and shallots. So, I substituted a 2/3 red onion to 1/3 minced garlic combination for the shallots and finely chopped gherkins for the capers. Oh, and we also opted for half-fat crème fraiche… This all worked surprisingly well! Our container of crème fraiche was 10 ounces, so I admit to having increased the amount of whole-grain mustard, ‘shallots’ and ‘capers’ by about 1-2 teaspoons each.

The recipe for this baked fish is incredibly simple. Just mix all of the ingredients together and cover the fish with a thick, generous layer of mustard cream. Bake at 200 C for 15-20 minutes and serve immediately. Our dinner was a bit of a pot luck and E. and D. came forth with wine, delicious bruschetta with diced tomatoes, grilled vegetables, and sundried tomatoes and a rocket salad. Yum! All in all, dinner was done in under 45 minutes, including preparation time.

The second fish recipe, which most friends have been subjected to at least once, is my salmon with chili jam, an adaptation of America's Test Kitchen's 'Sweet and Saucy Charcoal-Grilled Salmon with Lime-Jalapeno Glaze'--an oddly elusive recipe to track down!

Again, some substitutions were necessary. 'Sweet Chili Jam' stood in for the jalapeno jelly, and I added 2 tsp. soy sauce:

2 salmon fillets
Salt and pepper
4 Tablespoons toasted sesame oil
¼ cup sweet chili jam/jalapeno jelly
2 garlic cloves, minced or pressed through garlic press
1 lime; 1 teaspoon grated zest/ 2 Tablespoons juice
1-2 green onions, finely chopped
2 teaspoons low sodium soy sauce

2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
Tinfoil

Rinse the fish in cold water and pat dry with kitchen roll.

Use tinfoil to create a large ‘boat’ for the fish; this does not have to entail symmetrical, 90-degree corners by any means—just make sure there is an ample lip running around the edge to hold in juices and bubbling, excess glaze. Nor does this need to be a large boat; in fact, the fish will stay nice and moist with a margin of about 1-2 cm.

Combine the jam, garlic, lime zest and juice, green onions and soy sauce in a small saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally. The sauce should simmer and thicken on the hob, about 2-3 minutes.

This is another divergence from the Test Kitchen recipe, but seeing as there was no grill available, improvisation was in order. To seal the fish and get that slightly caramelized surface colour, I first seasoned the fish with salt and pepper and then seared the salmon with a bit of toasted sesame oil in a red-hot skillet for a matter of seconds—just to crisp up the skin a bit and add some colour to the flesh (no more than 10 seconds per side).

Transfer the fish to the tinfoil ‘boat’, skin-side down, and spoon over 2/3 of the jam glaze.

Bake at 190 C for about 15-18 minutes, depending on the thickness of your fillets.

Take the saucepan with the remaining glaze off the heat; add 2 Tbs. butter, stirring until it’s incorporated; cover the pan and set it aside until the salmon is done.

Serve the fish right away while it’s hot, spooning some of the remaining, buttery glaze over the top. I served mine with jasmine rice and cucumber carrot slaw (just let thinly sliced cucumber and carrot sit in some rice wine vinegar, two pinches of sugar, salt, ginger, and a few chilis).

It’s simple, posh protein that everyone will love—and it takes no time at all!

For any fish or chicken recipe I tend to follow a glaze rule that includes: one part sweet, one part hot, one part citrus, one part savoury. It’s hard to go wrong. Another great combination is sweet mango or Major Grey’s chutney with the juice of one Clementine, red chili paste, shallot, garlic, and soy.