Courgette and Bacon Risotto

The eagle-eyed among you might have noticed, from this week’s photos and last, that I have not been in my Orange Kitchen. This is because I was in London for the past two weeks – and the photos in these two posts are taken in either my brother’s kitchen, or at Ollie & Anna’s house, for whom the Chocolate Pudding was made.

I had to go back to London to sort out a new visa, which was a wonderful opportunity to catch up with friends and family. Sunday lunch x2: first cooked by Ollie, delicious beef, puffy Yorkshires, and Ollie’s speciality cauliflower cheese; and second in a London pub, catching up with old friends. Beer Wednesday & curry, lunch with friends, drinks with the girls from work, (the other) Ollie & El’s housewarming party, a lazy bank holiday Monday on the South Bank – I’ve been well and truly spoiled.

And the weather – the weather was glorious! The very best of English spring/summer days: warm, but not too hot, maybe a light breeze. And is there anywhere more beautiful than London on a sunny day?

This is the type of weather which begs for light, fresh food. My brother and I made a delicious supper the other day of a broad bean, pea, courgette, mint and feta salad, and some asparagus wrapped in parma ham with hollandaise sauce – so simple, and so delicious. Another night, I made a risotto with courgette and bacon. One of the things I love about risotto and pasta is how great they are all year round. You can have rich, dark, meaty pastas or a warm, comforting mushroom risotto in the winter, but just as delicious are the light, fresh pastas and risotto which make a feature of green vegetables.

Courgettes are one of my very favourite vegetables. I love them any way they come – steamed, griddled, roasted, raw in a salad, all delicious in my book. They marry really well with salty little bites of bacon, and the soft, almost creamy flesh is delicious in risotto. As with so many risotto dishes, this is very adaptable – last time I made it, I included lemon and pine nuts, and this time, I stirred through some leftover feta at the end. I think it definitely needs something like lemon or feta (different as those two things are!) – something sharp and zingy to lift it.

Courgette & Bacon Risotto 
Serves 2

• Approx 50-75g cubed pancetta/lardons/streaky bacon cut into cubes
• 1 Courgette/Zucchini, cut into small cubes (approx 5mm squares)
• 1 medium onion, finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
• 150-200g risotto rice (I used Carnaroli on this occasion)
• 100ml dry white wine
• Approx 500ml chicken or vegetable stock
• Approx 50g feta, cubed (optional)
• Squeeze of lemon (optional)
• 1 tbsp freshly grated parmesan, plus more to serve

Heat a fairly large saucepan over a medium-high heat. Add the cubed pancetta, and allow to fry until fairly brown and crisp. Once the bacon is crisp, reduce the heat to low, and add the onion and garlic. I find that the fat that comes out of the bacon means that you do not need to add any oil, but take a view on this and add a little olive oil if you feel it needs it. Soften the onions slowly until they are soft and lightly browned, and season with salt and pepper, remembering that the bacon is salty. In the meantime, in another pan, bring the stock to the boil, then reduce the heat to low and keep warm.

Once the onions are soft, increase the heat to medium and add the courgettes to the pan – cook for a minute. Add the risotto rice to the pan, and stir to coat the rice in the juices in the pan. Allow to cook for another minute or two, then add the wine. Stir, and allow the rice to absorb the wine. Add  the stock to the pan a ladle at a time, and allow the rice to absorb the liquid before adding another ladle, stirring all the time.

Continue this until the rice is soft and creamy but still has a little bite. If you run out of stock, continue with water. Stir the grated parmesan, feta and/or lemon through the risotto, and check the seasoning.

Serve immediately, topped with more grated parmesan.

Grandma’s Chocolate Pudding

And now for something completely different.

One of my most enduring childhood memories is family Sunday roast dinners. Going back as far as I can remember, and continuing pretty much up until I left home, my family would sit down together every Sunday for a roast. When I was small, this usually included my mum’s parents, at our house or theirs.  We would all meet after church, the adults would drink sherry, and we would be allowed a coke. Sometimes, we would be joined by friends and neighbours – leading to the now famous incident when I, as a small child, told my grandparents’ local MP off for not eating his vegetables. How embarrassing.

We have been blessed with our grandparents: my dad’s parents retired before I was born to Alderney, in the Channel Islands, and we spent wonderful summers there as children. My dad’s father died when I was very young, and it is one of my real sadnesses that I didn’t know him better. Dad’s mum, however, was a big feature of our childhood, and in particular of our fantastic holidays in Alderney.

My mum’s parents, in contrast, were much closer to home, and therefore more involved in day-to-day life. They helped with the school run, and we would sometimes go to them for a night or two for ‘holidays’ – which were probably holidays for everyone except them! They were truly magical times: my grandfather was forever full of magical tales and games; we would spend hours with him in the garden – ‘helping’ with his vegetable patch, building ‘fairy gardens’ (for the fairies to visit), and cubby holes for us to hide in. There were all sorts of fun things in the garden – his shed, which contained all manner of treasures, from a thurible (used for incense in church), to spades and saws and home-made furniture; a mini windmill thing (honestly, I can’t begin to describe it); and his pride and joy – his barbecue. As a red-blooded Australian male, his barbecue was of paramount importance, and his was a home-made triumph: constructed from an old metal oil drum standing on its end, with a section cut out and racks inserted for the coals to sit on, and an old sheet of metal on top to cook on. No barbecue before or since has come close.

Speaking of cooking – there, as well, my Grandad had a unique approach. My Grandma was never an early riser – in fact, she would send us to bed with the words ‘sleep well, see you in the morning – not too early!’. Grandad was usually up early, and we would come down for breakfast with him. Tea and toast were central – very weak black tea with sugar, and toast dipped in it. To this day, when I want something comforting, I have ‘grandad tea’. His talents didn’t end there, and such classics as orange in a basket (an orange, with two almost quarters cut out of the top to create something like this, but with the orange still in rather than berries, and with sugar sprinkled on the cut sides), ketchup sandwiches, egg-in-a-nest (a piece of toast, with a hole in the middle with an egg cracked in and fried – like this), and Aussie chips (sauteed potatoes, to anyone else…) were legendary.

Where my Grandad is an outdoors kind of chap, who would prepare breakfast in his vest and pants, and taught us to clean pans with dirt ‘like in the army’, my grandmother was the opposite: always stylish, beautifully turned out, and glamorous to a fault. They went to Australia every year to visit their other children and grandchildren, and the family joke was that Grandma would take an extra suitcase for all the shoes and handbags she would buy! Where he was always early, she was always late – he used to sit in the car when he thought it was time to leave, and she would come out when she thought it was time to leave. On paper, you couldn’t find two more different people – but they were married for more than 55 years, until she died 10 years ago this year.

She was also a great, if slightly unorthodox, cook – her recipe scrapbook was full of gems. One of the best things about our Sunday roasts was Grandma’s chocolate pudding – in my mind, we had this every week, although I’m sure that can’t be true… Either way, it is so delicious, and simplicity itself to make.

I asked my mum for the recipe for Grandma’s chocolate pudding; she sent it over, along with a word about the recipe which I will share, because it made me laugh, and sums up my Grandma better than I ever could:

‘You will remember that Grandma rarely measured anything carefully and if she didn’t have quite enough of something she would wing it so that is why it was always different.’

Which seems like a very good approach to me!!

This is what’s known as a self-saucing pudding – which is also why it’s never the same twice. You prepare a batter, and then before baking, sprinkle over a mix of sugar and cocoa powder, and pour over a cup or two of water. This then soaks into the pudding in the oven, creating a layer of sauce underneath. It’s like magic – and, depending on how much water you add, how hot your oven is, how long you cook it for, etc, you might either end up with a chocolatey sauce which you can spoon over the pudding, or a thick, sticky layer, too thick to be properly called a sauce. This also means it’s very forgiving – it’s rarely a problem if it’s in the oven a little longer than planned, which is a good thing if you’re lingering over lunch…

Grandma’s Chocolate Pudding 
Serves 4-6

• 4oz / 115g caster sugar
• 4oz / 115g butter
• 2 eggs
• 6oz / 170g self raising flour and cocoa mixed: add 2-3 tbsp cocoa to the measuring bowl, then add enough flour to bring it up to 6oz. You can use more or less cocoa, to taste.

For the sauce:

• 2 tbsp cocoa
• 3-4 tsp sugar
• 1 – 2 cups water (see instructions below)

Preheat the oven to 175C / 350F.

Cream the sugar and butter together until they are light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs. Gently fold the flour/cocoa mix into the batter.

Grease a baking dish (the one we used was about 8inx6in), and spread the mix in the dish – you need to make sure there is at least 1.5in between the batter and the top of the dish.

When you are ready to bake, sprinkle the sugar and cocoa over the dish, and pour over the water. The amount you use will depend on the size of the dish – you are looking for all the batter to be covered by about 1cm water. Bake for around 30-40 minutes, until the top is shiny and slightly cracked.

Serve with pouring cream.

Boston’s Tragedy

When I started this blog, I was very clear in my mind that its purpose was as a food blog – a blog for recipes, for sharing tips and ideas. I try to include snippets of my life here, and memories behind various recipes, but I felt very strongly when I started out that the posts had to be first and foremost about food – and I still do.

Sometimes, though, something comes along in life, which at one and the same time renders you speechless, and makes you want to shout out loud. For me, yesterday’s tragic events in Boston is one of those things – and so I hope you will forgive me while I digress.

First, and most importantly – Noel and I, and our friends and loved ones here, are safe and well, and for this I am so very thankful. In fact, I was on a plane, having left Johannesburg moments before the blasts, and so knew nothing until I landed at JFK this morning and my phone went beserk. I am pathetically grateful not only that I was far away, but also that I didn’t find out until I had landed and therefore didn’t have to spend the 15 hours of the flight wondering if friends were safe, with no way of finding out.

My initial reaction was, and still is, shock that someone could do this to my beloved adopted city. That someone can target an event such as this – an event swarming with families, for one thing – beggars belief. Loss of life is always a tragedy, in some capacity or another, and we can find ourselves on shaky ground when we start to categorise one death as more or less tragic than another. But the cowardice of something like this – the sheer, willful, indiscriminate desire to do harm – makes me rage inside.

It is hard not to feel full of despair at moments like these, especially when they occur so close to home. However, as I mourn Boston’s loss, as I am saddened for the families who have lost loved ones, the people whose lives will never be the same again, I remember a speech I once heard, and which I would like to share with you.

When I am not swanning around on a year off, my day job is as part of the team which organises the BBC Proms concerts in London each summer. The culmination of this two-month music festival is the Last Night of the Proms – a gaudy, celebratory affair, hailed as a national treasure by some and a jingoistic anachronism by others. The 2009 Last Night of the Proms will always have a special place in my heart, because it was the first time I attended the event.

Each year, the BBC Symphony Orchestra performs, along with the BBC Symphony Chorus, and whichever conductor is chosen to direct proceedings is expected to give a speech. This is no mean feat – the concert is broadcast live on BBC Radio and TV, and across the world in more countries than I can begin to remember. In 2009, David Robertson, that year’s conductor, gave a speech which has stuck with me ever since, and which came back to me as I faced yesterday’s horrific events. You can view the whole speech here - it is a wonderfully funny, witty, self-deprecating speech, but I would especially like to share the final few minutes with you:

‘I’d like to keep it short. One of the things which happens in this extraordinary society where today people are watching this around the globe in real time right while it’s happening here… music is this thing which is always fleeting from us and always escaping and that we always wish we could hold on to, and that’s what makes the Last Night of the Proms so wonderful.

But in this same society, we have the possibility of daily updates of extraordinary instances of man’s tremendous inhumanity to man. And so, when you’re a musician you often think, ‘well is anything that I’m doing having any worth at all trying to combat this, trying to work for unity’. So let me leave you with this. You see behind me a Symphony Orchestra. Every single one of the instruments has an entirely different background and history: they come from different places on the globe; they’ve had different developments; they sound different; they look different; they don’t actually interact at all. And yet – if we were to lose one single one of the instrumentalists on the stage, we would feel an incredible lack. And so when the next time your soul sinks, assailed with some sort of horrid indication that people can’t get along together, please remember the orchestra, which is a very powerful symbol – that the things which unite us are far, far stronger than the things which would seem to keep us apart.’

I take great comfort from these words. They remind me that for every ‘instance of man’s tremendous inhumanity to man’, there are instances of hope – of people who, with no thought for themselves, come to the aid of their fellow men. There are countless stories emerging from yesterday – one which sticks with me is the men who finished the marathon and kept running till they reached the hospital, so that they could donate blood.

I believe that in order for us to find a way past this atrocity and others like it, we have to look to find the same humanity in our enemies that we see in our friends. I believe that we have to try, even when it seems hopeless, to find those things which unite us, and try to find a way to make them more important than the things which seem to keep us apart. And so I look to the orchestra, that wonderful example of unity, and I hope that, one day, we will get there.

In the meantime, I say this to you: gather your loved ones around you. Hold those dear to you close, and celebrate everything that is wonderful about each other. Invite all of your friends around for dinner – see! this is about food! – and take joy, even as you mourn, in friendship and love. There are people out there telling us that we must go on with our lives, that this is the strongest message we can send that attacks such as these will not work. I agree – but I think we must take it further, that we must celebrate our lives, even in all their glorious ordinariness. And that this begins with celebrating the most important thing of all – friends, family, and the people you love. It shouldn’t take a tragedy to make us remember this – but sometimes that is the way of the world. And, as you know, I will take any excuse for dinner…

Cooking with my mum – Lamb and Aubergine ragu

I know, I know, I promised you some South African dishes, and pasta, well, ain’t. I had planned to try my hand at a few things this week, and I don’t really know why I haven’t – so for now, here’s a yummy lamb dish instead.

For one thing, I have been starved of pasta over the past few weeks. It’s one of my absolute favourite things to eat, probably the one thing I really could eat every day – a legacy, perhaps, from time spent in Rome ten years ago, although I think I’ve always loved it. I read these diets in magazines promising miraculous results – I flip eagerly to the page, and realise, no, you have to give up pasta. In a choice between a super-svelte bikini body and pasta, pasta would win, every time.

My brother, on the other hand, has given up eating carbs in the evening – with above-mentioned miraculous results – and so while he’s been here in South Africa as well, pasta has been off the menu. It’s a small price to pay for the wonderful holiday we’ve had together – he’s a singer, and was here with some of his singer friends for performances of Handel’s Messiah and Faure’s Requiem, among other things. Once the work in Johannesburg was done, we headed down to the Cape for a wonderful week which was largely based around eating and drinking. The days followed a fairly consistent pattern: rise, at leisure, and breakfast. Set off for the winelands, take in a tasting. Find somewhere delicious for lunch. Decide we should probably do one more tasting before heading home. Roll, slightly sozzled, back into the car for a snooze on the way home. Cook dinner all together.

It’s pretty high on my list of all-time favourite things to do on holiday. There is something truly magical about tasting wine at the wine farm itself – looking out over the vines, with the most knowledgeable and passionate people possible sharing their wine with you. Add in beautiful sunshine, family and friends, and the fact that I can’t drive and therefore always get to drink – and you have a winner.

Everyone else has gone home now, and it’s just me and my parents. There’s something strange and wonderful about going home to to your parents – it involves a relinquishing of independence and all its attendant responsibility which is in equal measure liberating and frustrating. Back in my parents’ home, I change from someone who cooks and cleans and washes, who gets themselves to work and social events, to someone almost entirely dependent on my parents for these things. In my defense, this is in part because I can’t drive and getting anywhere in Johannesburg without a car is nigh-on impossible (although I am willing to accept this is not really a defense…)

As I’ve already mentioned, I’ve been very happy both to sit back and enjoy my mother’s wonderful cooking, and to cook with the rest of the group – although there have been a few occasions where I have cooked for my parents. However, even when I’ve done so, I still find myself turning to my mum for help with everything! I ask her ridiculous questions (‘Mum, is this stick of celery ok to use?’ Honestly, how have I survived thus far if I have to ask that?!) – so even when she is sitting on the sofa and I am in the kitchen, I am ‘cooking with my mum’. Not that I mind – it’s a rare treat these days, and she is so full of knowledge, I’d be a fool not to take advantage.

This dish was the result of me being let loose in the kitchen – and I was really pleased with the results. I’d been meaning to make a lamb and aubergine pasta dish for a while, and the happy coincidence of lamb in the fridge and an afternoon to spare meant I got the chance. This version uses lamb knuckles, which I have to confess I’ve never seen outside of South Africa. It’s a great cut for slow cooking, if you can get it – but if not, any stewing lamb will do. I gave this three hours as the meat was on the bone and had a lot of sinew – if it’s a slightly leaner cut or not on the bone I’d suggest checking from about two hours, though I doubt it will come to grief from a slightly longer cooking if you have it on a slow heat. I had also planned to use minced lamb when I first thought of doing this – and I do think this would work well as an alternative if you prefer, and would also need a shorter cooking time, probably more like one hour.

I have a love-hate relationship with aubergine – cooked well, it is hard to beat. It has a luxurious, pillowy softness that melts in the mouth – truly wonderful. However, it is so often disappointing, usually because it has been undercooked, and is therefore hard and with none of the silkiness which makes it so delicious. It also soaks up oil, so if it has been sauteed, can be overly greasy. These days, I almost invariably roast the aubergine in the oven, at least briefly, to start the process. It needs less oil than if you were to saute it, and as with all roasting it brings out the sweetness of the aubergines. It also has the advantage of meaning you can put it in the oven for 30 minutes and forget about it, which, as Delia Smith says, is ‘much less tiresome than standing over a frying pan watching them soak up masses of oil’.

The inspiration for this recipe is the Italian aubergine dish, caponata – an aubergine stew, in which the aubergines are cooked in both vinegar and salt to give a slightly sweet-and-sour taste. The meatiness of the lamb works really well with this – and you can add more or less sugar and vinegar to either make it a feature or a background note. I like the combination of balsamic and either red or white wine vinegar, although I don’t think this is at all authentic!

Lamb and Aubergine ragu
Prep time: 30mins; Cooking time: 3hrs
Serves 6

• 750g/1lb 10oz lamb knuckles
• 1/2 tbsp olive oil
• Salt & pepper
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 1 stick celery, finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1tbsp tomato puree
• 1 x 400ml tin tomatoes
• 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar (or to taste)
• 2 tsp sugar (or to taste)
• 1/2 tbsp red or white wine vinegar (or to taste)
• 2 large / 3 small aubergines
• Sprig of thyme
• 1tbsp pine nuts
• Freshly grated parmesan, to serve

Heat the oil in a large skillet/frying pan over a high heat. Season the lamb with salt and pepper, and sear in the pan until well-browned all over – do this in batches, if necessary. Remove the lamb from the pan and set aside.

Reduce the heat to low, and a little more oil if needed, and add the onion, garlic and celery to the pan. Cook over a low heat until the vegetables are very soft. Stir in the tomato puree and season with salt and pepper – allow the mixture to cook for a couple of minutes.

Increase the heat slightly, and return the meat to the pan, arranging it in one layer as far as possible. Add the tinned tomatoes, the balsamic vinegar, and 1 tsp of sugar. Bring the pan to a simmer, then reduce the heat to low, cover and allow to cook, stirring occasionally, for 2-3 hours (NB: you can also do this in the oven, at 150c/300F)

In the meantime, prepare the aubergines. Heat the oven to 180C. Cut the aubergine into 1 inch chunks, and arrange on a baking tray. Season with salt, pepper and a little olive oil, and roast in the oven for around 30 minutes, until the pieces are softened and golden.

When the lamb has around 1 hour cooking time to go, stir the aubergine pieces into the dish. Taste at this point and adjust the vinegar/sugar balance if necessary – bearing in mind that the wine vinegar will add more tang than the balsamic. Add a sprig of thyme and allow to cook for another hour.

Just before serving, heat a small pan over a medium heat, and toast the pine nuts until golden brown. Serve with pasta, sprinkled with the pine nuts and parmesan.

Guest post – Thai Prawn Curry

Hello from beautiful South Africa! I have finally arrived to join my family here in Johannesburg – and not a moment too soon. My journey involved a bus to New York and a night in my friend’s very plush apartment, the subway to JFK and a 14hr flight from JFK to Johannesburg. I arrived on my birthday, and spent most of it asleep!! But it’s wonderful to be here.

I’m taking full advantage of my mum’s wonderful cooking, and so I’m not in the kitchen as much as normal – I am hoping to share with you some South African recipes later in my trip, but for now, I thought I’d share a wonderful guest post my friend Ben wrote. I met Ben just over five years ago when we both worked at the Royal College of Music in London. Ben’s a sound engineer, and worked in the College’s studio, along with Avgoustos, Stevie and Seb. Stevie and Seb both joined the staff at the College about the same time as I did, so we all ended up doing our induction sessions together – the sessions were held in the studio, and Seb famously made me a cup of tea when I arrived very hungover for one of the sessions, so I am devoted to him for life. The studio boys became my partners in crime during my time working at the College – a time I think of very fondly. We would go for lunch most weeks, usually on a Wednesday, to the nearby Imperial College bar for what became known as Beer Wednesday – clue’s in the name there. They kept me entertained at work with silly emails – including, famously, a photo of their pants.

Ben is also living the expat dream – in Amsterdam with his lovely wife Jenny. We keep in touch via facebook and email, and let each other know what recipes we’ve tried recently! Here is his recipe for Prawn Thai Curry, with a lot of helpful tips from Ben which he’s figured out along the way. I can’t wait to make it!

I’ve know Sarah for some time but I had no idea we both shared a love of cooking to the extent that we do. If I’d known we both had this passion I’m sure we would have ventured out together more on the hunt for exciting bites than we did before we both left the UK.

Like so many aspiring foodies I’m a food obsessive. I decide I want to master a particular dish and I don’t move on until I’ve achieved this goal. Recently that’s been sourdough breads, salt-caramel ice cream and flavoured foams but the one I want to discuss today is the Thai Curry. I spent my honeymoon in Thailand and completely fell in love with the cuisine. Beautifully simple and elegant, Thai food takes great tasting ingredients and combines them in a way that just work harmoniously, balancing sweet, sour, spicy and salty into something explosive.

The last time Sarah and I ate together was at Kaosarn in Brixton, London. Brixton market was not only very close to where we lived but had also been heralded as the new food-mecca in London by the british press. Kaosarn was a new Thai restaurant in the market that was causing a few waves. I don’t think I discussed it with Sarah over dinner but during that time I was on the hunt to find the best Thai curry in London. I was fed up of ‘westernised versions’ that just didn’t taste as good as the real thing I remembered eating.

Kaosarn was indeed something to talk about and I would tell anyone traveling to London who likes Thai food to go there, however… there was something about sitting outside what is effectively a cafe in February, covered in blankets provided by the restaurant, that just didn’t bring that feeling or the smells of Thailand back.

Obviously I wasn’t going to match being in Thailand but but i decided that I’d do away with restaurants on this one and match the taste of a great Thai curry at home. I began doing some research and came across David Thompson as many who have an interest in Thai cooking will have done. His book Thai Food really is the bible on Thai cookery and I have never made anything Thai since without referring to this book. Gone are the ‘cheats’ that I found from websites and famous british chefs. You know the ones, substituting ginger for galangal, limes for kaffir limes, fresh chilli for dried long Thai ones etc etc etc. All these things had never produced the authentic result. The following recipe is adapted from that book but to my own taste along with a quick side I thought I’d share as you cannot have a true Thai meal without there being a few dishes.

Prawn Thai Curry
Serves 4

Adapted from David Thompson’s Thai Food

For the Curry:

• 2 cups coconut cream
• 1 tbs palm sugar
• 2 tbs fish sauce
• 1 cup coconut milk
• 200g Prawns
• 4 kaffir lime leaves, shredded
• a little red chili
• 1 tbs coriander leaves

For the Curry Paste:

• 6 dried long chillies, deseeded, soaked and drained
• large pinch salt
• 1 tbs galangal (10 slices)
• 4 tbs lemongrass (1 big stalk)
• 4 tablespoons chopped garlic (8 cloves)
• 3 tbs sliced red shallot (6 small shallots)
• 1 tbs scraped and chopped coriander root
• 10 white peppercorns
• 1 tsp gapi

Sticky Rice:

• 300g sticky rice (soaked overnight)

Stir Fried Samphire:

• 4 garlic cloves
• pinch of salt
• 200g samphire
• 4 tablespoons of water
• 2 tablespoons light soy sauce
• pinch of white pepper
• pinch of sugar
• a little oyster sauce

Before beginning the recipe it’s worth noting a few things about the ingredients:

• Galangal looks a bit like ginger but tastes completely different. Essential in the curry paste and can be bought in most supermarkets now.
• Coriander root is another one of those things that get substituted with coriander leaf. This is one of the ingredients I’ve come to realise is the most important within the paste and cannot be missed out not only because if you use the leaf you’ll only ever get a green curry. I have only found this in Asian supermarkets but it’s worth hunting down along with Kaffir limes and their leaves. (SP note: to any readers in Boston, I have seen coriander (cilantro) with the root attached in Market Basket. They also stock galangal).

The recipe is only really a guide, nothing is set in stone here so just keep tasting and tasting until the balance between the flavours is what you’re after.

Recipe:
The paste is the most important part of a Thai curry so it’s worth taking the time to get this right. The end result should be pureed as finely as possible and smell mellow and rounded as opposed to each individual ingredient coming through. With a view to cooking this curry for friends I have previously made the paste in advance and kept it in the freezer. DO NOT DO THIS! As I discovered the re-thawing process creates an undesired bitter aspect to the curry and completely changes its flavour for the worse.

Traditionally the paste is made by gradually adding the ingredients to a pestle and mortar starting with the hardest. This is the way I would always do the paste if I have time as compared to a food processor as you get much more of a flavour and smell coming from the paste. If you are going to process the paste add a little water to help it along. Similarly if you have time, make the coconut cream yourself from a fresh coconut as the end result is far superior to the canned, blocked or any other form of coconut cream you can buy.

Ok, first add the coconut cream to the pan over medium heat and then the paste, stir regularly and fry for 5mins until fragrant. Season with the fish sauce and palm sugar. Add coconut milk and simmer until reduced and separated. Add the prawns and half the lime leaves and continue to simmer until the prawns are just cooked. The curry should be salty, a little hot and smell absolutely amazing! Serve with remaining lime leaves, red chilli and coriander.

Pile the rice into a steamer evenly spread, place over boiling water and cook for about 30 minutes, check the rice and if tender in the middle it is ready to serve.

For the samphire pound the garlic and salt together and add it to a hot wok along with the samphire. Stir fry for 3-4 mins until tender then add the water, soy sauce, oyster sauce and sugar and simmer for another minute. Serve with sprinkled white pepper. This also works well with asparagus or sugar snap peas etc.

Unfortunately I forgot to take a picture of the final meal, but I was serving friends and they ate it all before I could get the camera out. Bowl up each dish and allow your guests to take bits of everything, there’s something very social about eating like this and it was always the way in which I ate food while in Thailand. I didn’t detail it here but a great sweet that I loved while in Thailand was Coconut Rice & Mango and a perfect
end to this meal. Here is David Thompson’s recipe; http://www.finecooking.com/recipes/thai-sticky-rice-mango.aspx

Melting Moments

So, exciting news here in the Orange Kitchen. This week, we are cat-sitting for our friend Ari. This is amazingly exciting – I love cats, and I really miss having my own, but it’s just not practical at the moment. So this has been a real treat for us – Lyle is hilarious, he keeps me in stitches. He’s a great mix of silly and snuggly, and I have loved watching him charge up and down the flat like a mad thing, in pursuit of a bottle-top. Although, note to self – remember to shut the bathroom door when showering, unless you want to be attacked through the shower curtain mid-shower.

In between Noel coming back from two and a half weeks in Japan & China and very important cat care, I haven’t done a whole lot of cooking lately – and I completely failed to go shopping yesterday because I was playing with the cat. So here’s a quick and easy recipe which I loved making when I was younger.

When I was nine, my parents moved from the UK to live in Germany, and I went to boarding school. My school was near where my mum’s parents lived, and I spent many weekends with them, at first on my own and later with my sister who joined me at school when she was old enough. Our weekends were the most wonderful times – we would watch classic Saturday night TV: Blind Date and Gladiators, and we used to do a lot of baking with grandma, making treats to take back to school. She had a very old copy of The Cranks Recipe Book, which had a recipe for Melting Moments – a very simple, but delicious biscuit.

I’m not really a baker – I find the precision needed frustrating. One of the things I love about cooking is experimenting and adapting recipes and ideas – as I’ve become a more experienced cook, I’ve started to have the confidence to trust my own judgement and know when to add things, what I can substitute, what I can manage without. The exception, for me, is baking. This coupled with the fact that I don’t really have a sweet tooth means I don’t tend to bake that much.

There are exceptions – and this recipe is one of them! I hope you enjoy – they really take just, erm, moments to prepare (sorry…), which is great if you have a cat which is happy to entertain itself with a ping-pong ball while you’re not doing anything, but needs to play with you and only you when you’re busy! And they’re very moreish. The only change I’ve made to the original recipe is that I’ve always used white flour rather than wholemeal, as that’s what I tend to have in the house, and I used caster sugar instead of raw brown sugar.

Melting Moments
Slightly adapted from The Cranks Recipe Book

Makes 12-14 biscuits

• 150/5oz butter or margarine – if using butter, take out of the fridge a bit in advance to soften a little.
• 75g/30z sugar (I used caster sugar
• 15ml / 1tbsp beaten egg
• 1/2 tsp vanilla essence (I used extract)
• 100g/4oz self-raising flour
• 25g/10 oz porridge oats
• Extra oats to coat (optional)

Preheat the oven to 180 C/ 350 F. Grease a baking sheet. Begin by creaming together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg and vanilla essence. Add the flour and oats and bring the batter together – I used a combination of a wooden spoon and my hands!

Form the mix into walnut-sized balls, and arrange well apart on the baking sheet. Flatten slightly, and sprinkle with oats, if using.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until golden brown. Allow to cool slightly before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely – they will be very soft when they come out of the oven but will harden as they cool.

Date night – Oxtail ragu

Though I find it almost impossible to believe, this weekend just past marks four months since I arrived in Boston. Tempting though it is to break out all kinds of clichés – how time flies, etc – what I am most struck by is how right it feels to be here. Of course, it hasn’t all been easy – I’m now approaching my fifth month of unemployment, and even though it was my choice and if I had to make it again I would do exactly the same thing, it’s not always easy. That, and the fact that we have awoken today to yet more snow…  This, after a few days of milder weather – yesterday, for the first time in months, I went out in my normal English winter coat, rather than my extremely unflattering but very warm skiing jacket, convinced that spring might just be on the way. Who am I kidding?

My move to Boston has been monumental in several ways. I touched on work above – and this has been a massive change. For the past five years, one of the things which has defined me is my career – both in as much as having a salary has allowed me to do the things I love outside work, and in that I absolutely love what I do, and am very proud of my work. Moving from working full time to not working at all is a huge shift, and I’ve learned a lot about myself.

The move has also been a big change for me and Noel – our home in Boston is our first home together. I’ve learned a lot about our relationship and some alarming things about myself – for instance, it turns out I am incredibly picky about toothpaste, and the fact that Noel is unable to remember to put the cap back on turns me into a shrieking banshee of a woman. (Seriously, though, dried toothpaste is so gross). But there are positives as well. One of the things we have been trying to do since we got here is take each other on dates each month – the deal is that whoever is organising the date has to plan everything; it doesn’t have to be complicated or expensive, but it has to be just the two of us (ie, not with Noel’s students…). For our first date, Noel took me to the Museum of Fine Art to see the Mario Testino exhibits, which was wonderful. My first date was equally cultural – a night drinking free beer at the Harpoon Brewery. Ahem.

For February, I decided to base our date around a film I’ve been trying to get Noel to watch for years - La vita e bella (Life is Beautiful). It’s one of my favourite films, but every time I’ve suggested watching it, Noel hasn’t been keen. I’ve heard all the excuses: from the ridiculous – ‘It’s in Italian, I’m too tired to read the subtitles’ – to the downright mean (and untrue…) – ‘your film choices are always rubbish’. But, seeing as I was organising the date, I got to choose…!

To go with this (perhaps to sweeten the pill a little?!), I cooked one of Noel’s favourites – oxtail ragu. That’s right, nothing says ‘I love you’ like oxtail. I’ve already waxed lyrical about slow cooking, and this is another great example. The recipe is essentially a basic ragu bolognese recipe, but substitutes oxtail for minced beef, and is cooked very slowly. The results are great – the meat is incredibly tender and flavourful – and as with so many slow-cooked dishes, it tastes as though it is much more complicated than it is. If you can’t get oxtail, or are not keen on it, you can substitute with beef shortribs, beef shin, or stewing steak. If you’re using meat without a bone in, you can reduce the cooking time to more like three hours. You can cook this either on the stove top throughout, or in a low oven.

Oxtail is a relatively new discovery for me – but a very happy one. I confess, I was only really aware of it because my grandma used to have these bowls when I was a child, and frankly I found the whole  idea a bit off-putting. A few years ago, though, my dad had an oxtail stew for dinner when we were in South Africa, and I was blown away by how tender and delicious it was. I resolved to try cooking with it, and this recipe is the result. The key with oxtail is very long, slow cooking – this is true of many cheaper cuts of meat, but all the more so with oxtail which is full of gelatinous connective tissue, which breaks down to make the finished dish rich and unctuous, but which is unappetising if not fully rendered. It is also a fatty cut, so I would encourage you to make this in advance, if you can, and allow it to cool so that the rendered fat solidifies and you can very easily remove it from the top of the dish. (If you cannot make it in advance, you can spoon the hot fat off, but it is easier and quicker if the fat has hardened).

Before this, we had scallops wrapped in prosciutto with a lemon-parsley-time dressing, and we finished with tiramisu. We had cheesy ‘Italian’ music playing (think ‘That’s Amore’…), and drank lots of nice wine. And I’m happy to report that Noel is a convert to the film…!

Oxtailragu 
Serves 4-6

• Approx. 3.5lbs oxtail
• Olive oil
• 1/4 cup diced pancetta / 3 rashers bacon, finely chopped
• 1 large carrot, very finely chopped
• 1 stick celery, very finely chopped
• 1 onion, very finely chopped
• 2 gloves garlic, minced
• 6 mushrooms, chopped into 1cm dice
• 3tbsp tomato puree
• 2 14oz/400g chopped/crushed tomatoes*
• 2 sprigs fresh thyme
• 100ml wine (optional)
• Salt & Pepper
• 400-600g spaghetti
• Freshly grated parmesan, to serve.

If you plan to cook the dish in the oven, pre-heat to 150C / 300F. Heat 1/2tbsp of olive oil in a large casserole over a high heat until the oil is hot and glistening. Trim any excess fat from the oxtail, season with salt and pepper, and brown the meat in batches until it is a rich, dark brown on all sides. Remove to a plate. Reduce the heat a little, and add the pancetta/bacon, and cook until browned. Reduce the heat to low, and add the onion, carrot and celery. Cook over a low heat until the vegetables are very soft. Add the garlic and mushrooms, and cook for another 2-3 minutes.

Return the meat to the pan, and stir in the tomato puree – cook for a minute or two, and then add the tomatoes, thyme and wine, if using. Season with salt and pepper. Cover the pan, and either move to the oven, or leave on the stove on a very low heat. Cook for 4-5 hours.

If you are preparing the dish in advance, once it has cooked for the required time, you can remove from the oven and allow to cool, and then place in the fridge until needed. When you come to reheat it, remove the solidified fat from on top of the dish, and then remove the oxtail bones. If you are making it and serving it at the same time, once it has finished cooking, spoon the excess fat from the top of the dish and discard. Remove the oxtail bones and allow to cool until cold enough to handle.

You may find that some of the meat has fallen off the bones during cooking – this is fine. Remove any meat still attached to the bones, and shred into small pieces – it should be falling apart by this stage. Return the meat to the pan and discard the bones. Reheat the dish, and cook the spaghetti according to packet instructions. Serve with freshly grated parmesan.

* Note on tomatoes – in the UK, I usually use tinned chopped tomatoes. However, over here,  tend to find the juice they are in thin and watery, and have had better results with crushed tomatoes.

Birthday Brunch – Corn Hotcakes

It was Noel’s birthday last month, and so as with all good birthdays, we made a Plan. As the birthday itself fell on a Monday, we decided to celebrate with friends the day before, and invited some people round for a roast dinner, followed by watching the Patriots lose to the Ravens (as it turned out…), and playing silly games. On the day itself, we had tickets to see the Boston Bruins (ice hockey, for my non-American friends…) – my first time at a game! A late addition to the Plan was the last-minute arrival in Boston of one of our closest friends from the UK – posted to New York for six months with 24hrs notice. The obvious way for him to start this adventure was with a weekend in Boston with us beforehand – and so the whole weekend was a big celebration.

Unbeknownst to Noel, I had formulated another part of the Plan, which was to cook him a special birthday brunch before we went to the lunchtime Bruins game. Unfortunately, the downside of cooking roast beef for 12 people and drinking a lot of wine the night before was that my kitchen and my head both resembled a bomb site come Monday morning… So I decided to reschedule.

This recipe is a recreation of a dish I ate while visiting my parents in Johannesburg. For those of you who don’t know it Jozi, as it’s known, is an amazing city – vibrant, exciting, with loads going on. I don’t need to tell you that it’s often best known around the world as a place of troubles – as a hot-bed of tragedy and brutality during the apartheid era, and more recently as a crime-riddled city not safe for tourists. I can’t pretend there isn’t truth in this, but the focus on Johannesburg’s problems doesn’t do the city justice. For while Johannesburg, and for that matter South Africa, still has a long way to go, you have only to look at how far it’s already come to know it will get there. Johannesburg is a city of contradictions and frustrations – unthinkable wealth alongside the most abject poverty, opportunity and promise alongside lingering prejudice. But for me, the thing which stands out about the city, and the country as a whole, is an overwhelming feeling of hope, and the desire to do better.

There are things about Johannesburg which make me smile, even as I sigh in frustration – such as the fact that you have to unplug the internet when there’s a big thunder storm (of which there are many). Talk to a local about this, and you will be met with a wry smile, a shrug of the shoulders, and the reminder that, after all, ‘T.I.A’ (This is Africa)… Quite frankly, it’s a place I never thought I would visit – but even in the relatively short time I’ve known it, it’s a place I have come to love and count as a second home.

And this is before I even begin to talk about the food. I’ve eaten some of the best meals in my life in South Africa, and any trip there is preceded, weeks before arrival, by detailed plans of what and where we are going to eat while we’re there. It is a meat-lover’s paradise – beautiful steak, for one thing, but also more unusual meats: ostrich, kudu, impala… I could go on. From fine dining to cafe eating – Johannesburg has it all.

Which brings me to this post. One of my favourite places to go in Johannesburg is 44 Stanley – a group of old industrial buildings which have been redeveloped and now house restaurants, cafes, and small boutiques. We visit regularly – for the wonderful food, shopping and people watching. When it comes to food, you are spoilt for choice – I have had wonderful meals at the Salvationcafe and the beautiful Il Giardino Degli Ulivi, to name but two. On my most recent visit, my mum and I had brunch at Vovo Telo - an artisan bakery and restaurant. I had the most amazing corn hotcakes – poached eggs on a corn hotcake, with crispy coppa ham, roasted tomatoes, rocket and pesto. It was so simple, but yet so delicious, I was desperate to try to recreate it – and Noel’s belated birthday brunch was the perfect opportunity.

For my version, I used Bill Granger’s Sweetcorn Fritters with Avocado Salsa recipe (without the salsa) for the hotcakes – I halved the recipe and made four slightly larger cakes (rather than six smaller ones), which was fine for two of us. I used frozen sweetcorn, and substituted basil for cilantro. In terms of the original dish – I used streaky bacon rather than coppa as I had it in the fridge – I think either works equally well. Noel is not the biggest fan of roasted tomatoes, so I left those out – I don’t think the dish suffered for it. I also substituted a drizzle of this incredible truffle balsamic vinegar for the basil pesto, which was amazing!! If you don’t have pesto to hand, a small drizzle of straightforward balsamic vinegar would also be nice.

Poaching eggs is something I’ve discovered only fairly recently – I’ve always been a big fussy when it comes to eggs, but I am starting to see the light and try new ways of cooking them. There are so many different ways of poaching an egg – I used Felicity Cloake’s version, and I was happy with the results.

Corn hotcakes with poached eggs and bacon 
Serves 2

For the hotcakes:

• 1 1/3 cups sweetcorn
• 1/2 small red onion, chopped
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup chopped basil leaves
• 1/2 cup plain/all-purpose flour
• 1/2 tsp baking powder
• salt and freshly ground black pepper
• oil (for shallow frying)

• 6 rashers streaky bacon
• 4 eggs
• 2 handfuls of peppery salad leaves (such as watercress or rocket)
• Basil pesto or balsamic vinegar (to serve)

Broil or grill the bacon until it’s cooked to your liking. Once it is cooked, remove from the broiler/grill and heat the oven to 120C/250F. Put the bacon in the oven to keep warm

While the bacon is cooking, start preparing the hotcakes. Place one cup of the sweetcorn in the bowl of a food processor. Put the remaining kernels in a bowl and cover with warm water to allow them to defrost slightly. Add the onion, egg, basil, flour and baking powder to the food processor, and season with salt and pepper. Process until the mixture is combined. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the remaining whole corn kernels.

Heat 1 tbsp oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, drop 2 – 3 tablespoons of the mix per cake into the pan and cook in batches for one minute on each side. Drain on paper towels, and keep warm in the oven while you cook the other cakes. Once all cakes are cooked and in the oven, bring a medium pan of generously salted water to the boil. Crack the remaining eggs into a small jug, bowl or mug (you can do this two at a time). When the water is boiling, stir vigorously with a balloon whisk to create a whirlpool. Slip two eggs (one at a time) into the centre of the whirlpool. Reduce the heat to low, and cook for three minutes. Remove the eggs with a slotted spoon, and drain on kitchen paper. Repeat for the remaining two eggs.

Arrange the salad leaves on two plates, and top with the hotcakes. Place an egg on top of each hotcake, and arrange the bacon around the plate. Season with salt and pepper, and drizzle over pesto and/or balsamic vinegar.

Pasta alla Puttanesca – or, store-cupboard-supper

Well, well – it’s been an eventful few weeks here in the Orange Kitchen household, and I’m sorry not to have posted for a while. Last week, we were in Colorado for our first experience of skiing in the States. It was the most wonderful week – made all the more enjoyable because it almost didn’t happen…

We were due to leave Boston on the evening of 8th February – yes, the very same night that mega-storm Nemo rolled into town. Realising the chances of us getting a flight that night were nil, we changed our flight to leave from New York, thinking it might not be hit quite as hard. As it turned out, our Friday night flight from NY was cancelled more than 24hrs before we were due to leave – thankfully, we managed to get a flight to Denver via Chicago first thing on Friday morning, and, disaster averted, had the most amazing week. On the plus side, our holiday started a day early, with a fabulous night in NY with friends – which made the 6.30 departure from JFK the next morning all the more painful…

Our hurried departure meant that I got half way through a post, meaning to finish it on Thursday before we left, but in all the chaos I didn’t get a chance. That post will follow soon, but for now, here’s a little post about one of my favourite pasta dishes – something delicious, easy, and using ingredients you may well have in the store cupboard.

Funnily enough, Pasta alla Puttanesca is full of ingredients I really didn’t like until recently – anchovies, capers, and (to a lesser extent) olives. It’s strange how our tastes change – I can remember picking capers out of my mum’s fish pie, which is a really tedious thing to do, but such was my dislike of them that I thought it was worth it… Now, I can’t get enough of them, and use them a lot in my cooking. And while I still wouldn’t eat anchovies straight from the tin, I am a total convert to their use in cooking. They impart a wonderful savoury saltiness which can completely transform a dish – be it puttanesca, my earlier meatball recipe, or roast lamb.

Pasta alla Puttanesca is one of those dishes, along with for instance Spaghetti alla carbonara, where the origins of both name and recipe are murky to say the least. I probably don’t need to tell you that ‘puttanesca’ is Italian for, ahem, lady of the night – but the reasoning behind the pasta dish being thus named is vague. According to Delia Smith, ‘presumably the sauce has adopted this name because it’s hot, strong and gutsy’, and Angela Hartnett’s theory is that ‘it takes as long to cook the dish as it does the lady to take care of her clients’… As for the dish’s origins, many recipes suggest that it was born in the South of Italy – mainly because of its strong, hearty flavours. Frankly, when it tastes as good as it does, I can’t say I mind where it’s from!

Unsurprisingly, there are many different ways to cook puttanesca – this is mine! For me, it has to have anchovies, capers, olives, garlic and chili – and I like the sauce to be fairly thick, and to coat each strand of pasta. My preference is for the sauce to coat the pasta so that there is very little sauce left in the bowl once you’ve eaten the pasta. I always use spaghetti or linguine for this dish, but you can use short pasta such as penne if you prefer.

Pasta alla Puttanesca
Serves 4

• 1/2 tbsp olive oil
• 6-8 anchovy fillets
• 3 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced
• 1-2 chilis (to taste), de-seeded and finely chopped
• 2 tbsp capers, drained and rinsed
• 1 tbsp tomato puree
• 2 tins chopped tomatoes
• 1/2 cup pitted black olives, sliced
• salt & pepper
• 400g spaghetti

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over a medium heat. Add the garlic and anchovies, and cook until the garlic is lightly browned and the anchovies have broken down. You are looking for the anchovies to become a paste in the pan with the oil, with no large pieces of fish. Stir in the capers and chilis, and cook for another minute, before stirring in the tomato puree. Allow to cook for another minute or two, and then add the tinned tomatoes. Stir in the chopped olives, and season well with pepper and a little salt – taste as you go when adding the salt as the anchovies, capers and olives are all salty. Allow to cook, uncovered, over a medium-low heat, until the sauce has reduced and thickened.

Cook the spaghetti in a large pan of salted water according to packet instructions, until al dente. Before draining, add a spoonful or two of the pasta water to the sauce and stir through. Drain the pasta, and return to the pan. Stir the sauce into the pasta so that it coats every strand, and serve!

In praise of slow-cooked meat

Here’s a little song I wrote for you:

(To be sung to a truncated version of the tune of ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire’)

Short ribs braising in a pot of wine,
Lamb shanks bubbling on the stove.
Big pot of oxtail, been cooked for five hours,
And now just falling off the bone.
Everybody knows…
Boeuf Bourguignon is best cooked slow
The same is true of Bolognese
Although it’s been said, many times, many ways,
Try slow cooking, try slow cooking
Try slow cooking – today! 

Yes, I have too much time on my hands. Yes, it might also be true that I spend too much time on my own without anyone to talk to. However – putting aside these minor concerns for my mental health, slow-cooked meat is completely amazing, and that’s what I want to talk about today.

I do a lot of slow cooking, and have for some years – in fact, I think almost the first thing I cooked for a dinner party was boeuf bourguignon. One of my favourite things to do on a rainy Sunday is cook some sort of slow-cooked meat-in-liquid-type-dish, and now that I *ahem* have more time on my hands, I do this in the week, as well. Braising, stewing, casseroling and the like are up there with baking bread in terms of how to make your house smell amazing, and there are few things better to eat on a cold, blustery day.

On Monday night, I cooked a somewhat bastardised version of the Brazilian dish feijoada – essentially, various cuts of pork cooked slowly with black beans. Although I’m not sure I can speak for its authenticity, it was completely delicious, and Noel asked if I was going to blog about it. In many ways, I would love to write about that recipe, because it was great, but I have held back because I feel like posting recipes for slow-cooking is sort of… cheating.

For one thing, slow cooking meat is really, really, really easy. It does take time, but all but the first 30mins or so is time that involves no effort on your part whatsoever. Cheating, also, because almost every recipe for slow cooking follows the same basic premise – brown meat, sauté onion + other veg, put meat back in pot with some sort of liquid, cook on a low heat until completely scrummy – and so I felt I had very little to add. I do have a recipe for oxtail up my sleeve which I will post on here – probably some time next month. But beyond that, there are so many great recipes for slow cooking out there, I wasn’t sure I could really add to them.

So – rather than give you my version of a slow-cook recipe, I thought I’d talk a bit instead about slow-cooking in general, and share some tips and a few recipes I’ve really enjoyed, which you might like to try.

Tip 1 – brown your meat properly. I can’t emphasise this enough – start by browning your meat properly, and everything else will fall into place. In my opinion, there are few things less appetising to eat than blond, anaemic-looking pieces of meat – and conversely, few things more tasty than meat with a nice toasty crust: this is as true for braising as it is for cooking steak. In addition, if you brown your meat properly, all the yummy crusty goodness will go towards making the final sauce that bit more delicious. There are lots of recipes out there which will tell you the same thing, but the one which, for me, summed it up perfectly is Adam Roberts’ recipe for Daube de Boeuf over on Amateur Gourmet – as he says, ‘If I had to point out how I’ve grown the most as a cook over my 9 years of doing this, it would be my ability to brown meat really, really well’, and I agree – when I figured out this basic step, my casseroles improved massively. He also offers this excellent advice: ‘don’t start chopping your vegetables until you start browning your beef. This’ll ensure that you really let the beef take its time and you don’t stand around impatiently. If you do this right, you’ll have a plate of browned meat and a big bowl of vegetables ready to go at the same time’. So true – if you have nothing else to do when browning meat, you will stand around twiddling your thumbs and the temptation is to rush the process. So give yourself something else to do, and hey presto, the time flies.

Tip 1a – don’t crowd the pan when browning the meat. This is something which frustrated me for years. Countless recipes out there tell you not to brown the meat in batches and not crowd the pan, but I never read one which explained WHY. This drove me mad! Why can’t I shove all the meat in together and speed up the process?! Finally, I found the answer in the wonderful Felicity Cloake’s recipe for ‘perfect chilli con carne’. I should’ve known she would have the answer – and here it is: ‘don’t crowd the pan, or [the meat] will steam rather than brown’. Which makes sense, really. So there you have it.

Tip 2 – fat = flavour. Every recipe I have ever seen for slow cooking calls for what is usually referred to as ‘cheaper’ or ‘economical’ cuts of meat. What this means, is meat which is fattier than its more expensive counterparts – fattier, more full of connective tissue, tough as old boots if cooked quickly, but therefore absolutely ideal for slow cooking. When this meat is cooked slowly at a low temperature, the fat renders and the connective tissue breaks down, leaving the meat itself fork-tender, and the sauce in which it’s been cooked rich and unbelievably tasty. (On a side note – isn’t ‘fork-tender’ a wonderful phrase? So evocative, makes me automatically hungry). Of course, you can remove excess fat from the meat before cooking if you would like, but please don’t go nuts – leave some fat to help your dish along. Which brings me to…

Tip 3 – remove excess fat. I love fat – I am a total glutton for crispy bacon, chops, and don’t even get me started on crackling. What I don’t enjoy, however, is the greasy layer of fat on top of a sauce – and so I tend to spoon off the excess. There are two ways of doing this. Either, once the meat has had its allotted time, spoon the fat off and discard. Or, even more straightforward, if you have time, allow the dish to cool, the fat will solidify, and you can remove it very easily from the top before reheating. This has the added advantage of…

Tip 4 – slow-cooked dishes taste even better the next day. There is nothing wrong whatsoever with eating a casserole or braise straight from the oven. It will be delicious. However, if you have time and are able to plan ahead, another tip which, again, involves no effort on your part but which will take your dish straight from good to great is to leave it to cool overnight and serve it the next day. The flavours will develop and intensify, and it will taste even better. And how’s this – this means you can put a dish in the oven on a Sunday, potter around the house and do chores, then chill it overnight and eat it on Monday evening – seriously, what could be better after a miserable Monday than the most delicious dinner, ready made and waiting for you?

Tip 5 – make a big batch and freeze it. I’ve never yet made a slow-cooked meal which didn’t freeze well. It is such a great thing to have in the freezer. It is, if anything, easier to cook a big batch than a smaller one, and the leftovers will be awesome.

There you go, them’s my tips! Enjoy. To finish, here are a few recipes I’ve enjoyed over the years, and hope you do too.

• As I mentioned, the first slow-cook recipe I made was Boeuf Bourguignon, and it’s a great place to start. I used Delia Smith’s recipe, and it’s served me well. She also has really useful advice about cuts of meat.
• Felicity Cloake’s recipe for Chilli con carne, mentioned above, is fantastic – and I also really enjoyed reading about the dish’s origins.
• I recently made this recipe for braised short ribs, which turned out really well. This was a new cut for me, it’s not something you see often in the UK. Finishing the ribs in the oven is a great tip, and also straining and reducing the sauce makes a massive difference.
• I absolutely love David Lebovitz’s recipe for Carnitas – slow cooked pork for burritos or tacos. Yummy yum yum.
• My next slow-cook adventure is going to be this recipe for soy-glazes short ribs from Bon Appetit – looks delicious. I’m going to use beef shin rather than short ribs because it was on sale…
• This recipe for Peruvian Seco is also high on my list, haven’t got there yet but can’t wait to try it!
• And it’s not just all about meat! I make this recipe from Delia Smith for slow-braised red cabbage all the time, it is so great.