Sorrel

So at last I get home to find that the pathetic little sorrel plant I shoved in before I went away in July, the one that looked as though it might not survive the weekend, has taken over the world. Or at least my herb garden.  I have a great nostalgia for sorrel. Some time before the Flood you used to see it on French menus but now, not so much. As a student  I used to feel very French buying small, expensive bunches of sorrel in M & S on Kensington High Street but I don’t think I have seen it on sale these many years. In my mind it has taken on a mythical status and its taste has been elevated in memory to something near divine. Have you tried it? It’s lemony and refreshing and delicious with fish. So it is a delightful surprise to come home to sorrel with ambitions to march on Moscow which has started by annexing all available space in the zinc manger that is my herb garden. It is a divided affair, the manger, otherwise both sides would have fallen to the sorrel. I’m secretly delighted with this occupying force although I do wonder what has happened to the horseradish that went in at the same time.

herb garden

So what am I going to do with it? Interestingly recipes for things containing sorrel are only in my oldest cookbooks. Nigel Slater’s volumes on his garden produce do not mention it and a cursory glance at Diana Henry also draws a blank. A quick scroll though google, however, confirms what I remember. Sorrel dissolves even better than spinach with butter over a little heat. It lacks that blood and gravel taste of iron that people who don’t like spinach don’t like. With seasoning and an egg yolk or some cream or stock it is a ready made sauce. No blender to wash up! I can see it is going to be my mystery ingredient for the Autumn entertaining that is on the horizon.

It will also be keeping some pretty grand company as I am proud to tell you I have in my freezer, direct from the French field it grew up in, a poulet de Bresse. Such a song and dance has been made over this chicken (not least by Alistair Little) that when we passed a sign on the French motorway advertising Bresse as the next exit I brought the full force of my charm to bear (and a little hysteria) to persuade the driver to turn off so that we could buy one. I don’t know how it is in your car but in ours it doesn’t matter which of us is driving the power goes straight to our heads. Coffee stops, loo breaks and even medical emergencies simply cut no ice with the one behind the wheel, especially when abroad. If you want to stop do not begin your sentence ‘Shall we …?’ or ‘We could …’ or ‘Oh, look …’  Deaf and head down, the driver’s instinct is to Keep Going at all costs. The inviting lay-by, service station or out-of-the-way country restaurant is merely a cloud of dust behind you before you finish. Rather, shout ‘STOP!’ in such a way that obedience is instinctive but not so that the driver has a heart attack.  (I suggest you practise before setting off.) To maintain the effectiveness of this technique I recommend limiting it to once every five hundred miles or so. Anyway when I tell you I came home holding aloft a poulet de Bresse as though I had won Wimbledon and did a victory lap of the kitchen, you will appreciate why.

I will keep you posted when we eat it but it will be cooked with love, I promise, not shoved into a cold oven I meant to put on half an hour earlier and then heated to spontaneous combustion temperature because we’re all hungry. Perhaps some boiled potatoes with a sorrel sauce? Meanwhile I am planning a sorrel risotto with or without a few prawns. Here I am rerunning the risotto recipe that I gave some months ago to which you add your sorrel at the end. But first you need to plant your sorrel and there is no problem buying a plant online from a website like this. Make sure you give it some decent soil in a pot as big as you have room for. Like most plants it likes plenty of sunshine and plenty of rain but if we are lucky with the rest of September there is time to get one established before Winter. Here is the monster that was planted in July.

sorrel 1

In cooking sorrel disappears much like spinach so although it is lovely to have a few leaves in a salad, it is best kept for soups and sauces unless you’re going to give it the run of your borders.

Sorrel Risotto

500 g risotto rice (Replace 250g of the rice with finely diced vegetables (carrots, celery, courgettes) if you are watching the calories.

50 g butter

50 g olive oil

1 onion or leek finely chopped

2 litres of beef or Marigold vegetable stock (hot)

2 glasses of white wine

an egg yolk beaten with half a cup of double cream

as much sorrel as you can muster

  1. Saute the onion unbelievably slowly until it is translucent.
  2. While the onion is softening wash and chop the sorrel and melt it in some butter over a low heat. When it is like a puree, turn off the heat.
  3. Add the rice and saute for a minute or two before adding the wine.
  4. Stir until the wine is completely evaporated and the rice is dry again.
  5. Add the stock one ladleful at a time until it is all absorbed. This should take 20 minutes but I find it takes longer, so be patient.
  6. Turn off the heat and add the pre-cooked sorrel, salt and pepper, the egg yolk and cream. Check the seasoning again.
  7. Leave to ‘mantecare’ (to cream) for 3 minutes and then serve.

This risotto is great with grilled white fish on top or a few sautéed prawns. It goes equally well with ripe and mild Dolcelatte but to my mind Parmesan overwhelms the sorrel. You could leave out the egg yolk and cream and put a dollop of burrata into each portion before serving.

More Fresh Ideas for your Kind-to-Yourself Lunch : get pickled

More Fresh Ideas for your Kind-to-Yourself Lunch : get pickled

Well now, we all know about Prosciutto Melone (and if you need reminding, take a look  here) but I recently discovered a new twist on this theme which brings together the irresistibly sweet and the tongue-ticklingly piquant. When I was a child water melon was a mouthful of black pips but nowadays I seem to be able to buy them with tiny white edible pips which are much less off-putting and I’ve been feasting on water melon this summer. Add to this an urge to pickle something and, bingo! Sweet and sour lunch and as good to look at as it is to eat.

I guess water melon has some calories in it but it’s also extremely healthy and delicious. Cucumber, we all know, is as good as calorie free (and the pickling only adds a few teaspoons of sugar to a whole cucumber). That leaves whatever protein you fancy – this is very good with all kinds of ham and cold meat as well as clean cheese – by which I mean not the kind that runs all over your plate. Runny cheese is high on my list of delights but not with melon, somehow. Gruyere, Emmental, Ossau Iraty, the primo sale I mentioned the other day, halloumi, anything nice and clean and dry- but that’s just my opinion. I’d like to hear yours. This is the kind of meal that expands children’s tastes if you’re feeding the family and they usually enjoy the contrasts and the colours and the fact that it’s great finger food if you’re little. (In fact you can make very nice smiley faces out of these ingredients should someone need coaxing. Maybe you are someone who needs coaxing to eat?)

As ever taking the time to pickle your cucumber and prepare your melon and arrange the whole thing on a nice white plate is a simple and foolproof way of being kind to yourself, raising your self-esteem little by little and staying healthy. If you’re due a much bigger meal than this it can make a wonderful starter before your pasta, steak or your jam sandwich. Eat this first and you are much more likely to eat what you need afterwards rather than eat on autopilot at the fridge door. Yes, we have all done that! Lights on, nobody home. It’s not naughty. It’s unkind. Be kind to yourself by taking a little trouble and you’ll find it gets easier each time to do.

Water melon with Parma ham and pickled cucumber

pickled cucumber

Salmon Tartare with Pickled Cucumber

Making the pickled cucumber could not be easier. Just chop it into whatever shape and size you fancy and swish over some white wine vinegar into which you have dissolved some sugar. Chill in the fridge until cold and dip in whenever you’re peckish. It last a long time. In fact I defy you not to eat it before it goes off.

Tip : if you want to use your pickled cucumber for something formal like a salmon tartare, cut it into wafer thin slivers before pickling. Dill fronds can also add to its prettiness.

For the salmon, merely take the time to buy skinless salmon fillet as fresh as possible and then dice into tiny cubes. Marinade four hours or overnight in lemon juice, black pepper and some Maldon salt, a dash of olive oil, chopped dill and some finely diced shallot. Stir occasionally until all the salmon has been in contact with the marinade and has changed colour slightly.

Arrange on plates with the cucumber, some black rye bread and some yoghurt or labneh handed separately.

NB For this you do not need sashimi grade salmon because it is really a ceviche and not tartare. The raw salmon is ‘cooked’ by the lemon juice.

FOMO

As you probably already know Fear of Missing Out is a major player in our food-choosing dramas. There you are doing so well, perusing the menu like a pro and mindfully choosing the things that are just right for you in this moment when your loved one (who has worked out within an inch of his life that afternoon) orders the Mac ‘n’ Cheese or the Eton Mess and suddenly inside there is unseemly debate and uncertainty where previously there was calm and wisdom. (There may also be a re-evaluation of your loved-one but we’re not going there today.)

FOMO, the psychologists tell us, is an enormous factor in our decision-taking and you and I, who are trying to feed ourselves with love, need to get wise to this. And it isn’t only when people you thought of as friends suddenly give themselves carte absolutely blanche with the menu is it? What about when you know you’ll never be on this holiday again, in this country again, in this restaurant again? That can deal a death blow to the kind and reasonable intentions you had before you left the house, the hotel room or the villa. In the face of Baked Alaska or Zabaglione (and how often do you see those on a menu??) those intentions seem narrow, punitive, unimaginative and unnecessary. Before you can say ‘bring me an extra spoon’ you’ve wolfed down unforeseen goodies that you maybe haven’t enjoyed as much as you hoped. Whoops.

It seems to me that preparation is the best defence against raging FOMO. If you possibly can, (actually you always can) check out the menu online beforehand and imagine what you will order. If you’re on holiday, imagine what you will wear and how great you’ll look. Now and again I have to give myself a newsflash that there is in fact no world shortage of mac ‘n’ cheese. (A small personal weakness amongst, ahem, many.) Even burrata can today be found on several continents and does not have to be guzzled down right now in case it never appears again. (This is not 1982.) I can save it for a day when I was too busy to eat lunch or have done a bunch of exercise.

So what I wanted to offer you today in the way of summer food is a dish which can easily evoke FOMO in me because I love it and I don’t make it often. It is one of those dishes that is enormously more than the sum of its parts and the good news is that it is a balanced and delicious dish if you follow the recipe guidelines – main course for 4 or side dish for 8. This is my favourite ever salad – another from Diana Henry’s Crazy Water Pickled Lemons – not leaves this time but bulgur wheat, spinach and all kinds of good things. It goes brilliantly with BBQ food or roast chicken or the artichokes someone brought me from their garden and it can also stand up proudly as a meal in itself. The picture below in no way does it justice because I forgot to photograph it until we’d eaten most of it! Sorry about that! Lay it out on a large white platter for eight people and it looks impressive topped with the crispy onions which had all gone before I got my phone out. I love this dish because although it is brilliant in summer, it also has enough about it to transition into cold weather without leaving you feeling deprived. And deprived is what you never want to get near since it has the internal glutton kicking off quicker than any other feeling.

NB each of the component parts is made separately and can be used fabulously in other meals too

Bulgar and Spinach Pilaf with Labneh and Chilli Roast Tomatoes

favourite salad

Serves 4 as a main course or 8 as a side dish. The quantities are very approximate so don’t worry about them too much. You must make the labneh the day before but if it suits you the whole thing can be prepared the day before and assembled for eating when you’re ready.

Make the labneh the day before by mashing a garlic clove and some salt into 250g Greek yoghurt. Now bear with me because you may not want to bother with the next bit but it is easy and crucial. Put the mixture in a sieve lined with muslin resting over a bowl to catch the liquid and leave in the fridge overnight. The result is easily worth waiting for.

Now roast 12 good tomatoes cut in halves or quarters if they are very large. Put them in a shallow roasting pan with 4 tbsp olive oil and 2 tbsp balsamic vinegar, a teaspoon of harissa and a teaspoon of soft dark sugar and mix well. Put in a preheated oven at 180 for about 40 minutes until they are shrunken but not mush. 

Caramelise 2 finely sliced onions over a high heat in a frying pan with 2 tbsp olive oil, 0.5 tsp cinnamon, 1.5 tsp soft dark sugar, salt and pepper and a good squeeze of lemon. Fry until crispy and brown round the edges.

Wilt 600g spinach in the water left on it after washing and draining. (Over a moderate heat this happens very quickly if you haven’t done it before.) Immediately drain it, roughly chop it and add a dash of olive oil.

To make the pilaf saute another onion and a clove of garlic finely chopped in a little oil until soft. Add 175g bulgar wheat and 300ml of chicken or vegetable stock* and bring to the boil. Turn down the heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Leave to rest for another 10 minutes and then fluff up with a fork. (The wheat will have absorbed the stock.)

Now comes the fun part. Choose your favourite large bowl, dish or platter and layer the pilaf with the tomatoes and juices, some chopped mint if you have it (or another herb if you don’t)  and the spinach. On top arrange lumps of labneh you have broken apart and finally the crispy caramelised onions.

Detox Cooking

detoxThe Detox Kitchen has put its recipes into print.

This cookbook was on my Christmas list and I have tried out a good few of the recipes and whilst they are not quite as delicious as the food they sell in the Detox Kitchen in London that may be because they are even healthier! However what I have really got to grips with through cooking with this comprehensive book is that the use of fresh herbs and lemon juice is really underrated – at least by me to date.

What are the toxins I am trying to get rid of? My belief is that my body mostly expels things it finds toxic all on its own and that my job is to keep my body healthy enough to take care of itself. So I got curious. The toxin I identified with the help of this cookbook was the toxin of two double binds I hadn’t spotted previously.

  1. I wasn’t ‘allowed’ to use fresh herbs and lemon (unless other people were coming of course) because I hate buying those little packets of fresh herbs in the supermarket. For why? Because I feel I ‘ought’ to be growing them.  It won’t come as a big surprise that many of them grow best in hotter and drier places than an Oxfordshire garden so, to be clear, I was doing without because I had an idea that they should be perfectly sourced. Madness.
  2. The second thing that stood between me and cooking with finely chopped greenery  was a laziness I wasn’t conscious of. An aversion to the labour of chopping properly, a resistance to tracking down the lemon squeezer and and washing it up afterwards meant I was depriving myself of deliciousness and some health benefits too. Letting go of the notion that I had to grow the herbs myself means I can cook with herbs! Letting go of the notion that it is too much trouble to wash the lemon squeezer means I can cook with fresh lemon juice!

Just doing the things that seemed ‘too much trouble’ has sidestepped the double bind and this seems a radical detox to me. Try it because, as that woman on the TV says, you’re worth it.

In the consulting room I am always listening out for the toxin of undermining ourselves and punishing ourselves in the name of being better people. If there were one magic wand I would like to wave for my clients it is the magic wand that would dispel all these forms of self-hatred (because, yes, that’s what it actually is). Not thinking I’m worth taking trouble for is a form of self-hatred. Likewise there is no kindness in improving your diet out of a desire to be good. If you want to be a better person, start by weeding out the self-hatred which lurks behind some ‘good intentions’ and imposes a regime of self-chastisement which breeds rebellion.

Meanwhile back to the herbs. You won’t believe how great it is to have a beautiful pile of finely chopped parsley or coriander and garlic to strow over your simple sautéed chicken breast.

Here is the chicken with herbs and lemon juice shown with either lentils (I’m afraid they were tinned as I was in a hurry) or saute potatoes. The Spring cabbage is done in the microwave for four minutes with a knob of butter and a little salt.

Of course if you don’t eat chicken you can do the self-same thing with courgettes or carrots or roasted squash (when it comes out of the oven).