The Dear Leader and I have just returned from Bologna, where we spent a long weekend being a bit cultural and very greedy. Given that ham, mortadella and salami nearly always featured at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and watching the Bolognese themselves consume vast platters of ham in the restaurants we used, I am struggling to understand how so few people we saw were fat.
It may be that such meat feasts are for dining outside the home, while vegetable-rich meals are enjoyed in the home. There were more grocers than butchers to be seen as regards shops, and the former had fantastic variety on display, not least the radicchio that seems to have gone out of favour with our supermarkets (so we are growing plenty to make up for it).
Another theory is that they walk so damn much, as we did, though we had the excuse of being visitors intent on seeing the sights (again in some cases, given we made a similar trip last November). All Saturday and Sunday the streets in the centre were thronged with families and groups of friends just strolling about, working up an appetite (or indeed an appetito).
The culinary highlight of the weekend, for me at least, was tripe in the Parma style, which was tripe stewed with tomato and a rich stock. I am a massive fan of tripe, both for its flavour and its texture. Interestingly (well, for me) that tripe dish was, in comparison to my own standby of tripe and onions, on the underdone side; just so the various pastas we had over the four days of dining, all of them done very much al dente. I will learn from that and not always think 'I'll just give it another minute.'
I've made a resolution to make use of my pasta machine again, the particular aim being to make some ravioli (tortelli etc look far too complex for my folding skills to manage). What I have in mind are some very large ravioli, stuffed with things like ricotta and parmesan, but also I am keen to try pumpkin - though not flavoured with crushed amaretti biscuits. I had that combination in one restaurant, and it was intriguing - a traditional dish of the Veneto apparently - but however interesting and (to me) new, a little went a long way.
Showing posts with label pumpkin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pumpkin. Show all posts
Tuesday, 13 November 2018
Saturday, 6 October 2018
Red in Tooth and Jaw
I had to apologise to Sternest Critic this week. When we were talking about making risotto he asked if red wine could be used at the start of cooking the rice, rather than the standard white. Out of prejudice rather than knowledge I said probably not. Days later I came across, by chance, a risotto recipe using red wine.
The picture accompanying that recipe was so strikingly colourful, and having some cooked beetroot (a main ingredient) to use up, I tried it, or my own version at least. The taste was good (infusing the oil for it with rosemary, sage, bay and peppercorns helped hugely), but the colour was amazing.
That beetroot was to hand as I'd made a sort of borscht the day before - The Dear Leader, clearly targeted by the GRU or CIA, strained her jaw eating corn on the cob several weeks back when we had a bunch of friends over for a mezze-type meal, so she's to avoid chewing until it's better. That too was vibrant, the trick being to simmer the raw veg various (beets, turnip, onion, the last of our summer squash) together, then when it is liquidised add a cooked beetroot. Followed by a leafy salad with tomatoes, roasted pumpkin, and avocado (guess which wasn't home grown) that was equally bright, it has been a good couple of days at the table for the eyes as well as the taste buds.
My pretend borscht wouldn't have suited one good friend of ours, who dubs beetroot 'the devil's vegetable', and dislikes soup as a concept. We could never have made a couple. Beet at a pinch I could forego; soup never. I'm not a big fan of chilled soups, maybe making them once or twice at most through the summer. But autumn, winter and spring in this household will see three or four a week served up.
Perhaps the problem with her dislike of soup, and we're back to the colour thing again, is that so often it can be murky brown, camouflage green, or vaguely red. In another post somewhere I have written about French hotel soup, delicious and economic (stock from the previous day's or days' meat leavings and bones, and veg a little past their best), something I love but which it has to be admitted is never a delight to the eyes. But it doesn't have to be that way, surely? So my tiny personal task over the next few weeks is to make Technicolour soups. First idea - avocado and green chili. We'll see.
The picture accompanying that recipe was so strikingly colourful, and having some cooked beetroot (a main ingredient) to use up, I tried it, or my own version at least. The taste was good (infusing the oil for it with rosemary, sage, bay and peppercorns helped hugely), but the colour was amazing.
That beetroot was to hand as I'd made a sort of borscht the day before - The Dear Leader, clearly targeted by the GRU or CIA, strained her jaw eating corn on the cob several weeks back when we had a bunch of friends over for a mezze-type meal, so she's to avoid chewing until it's better. That too was vibrant, the trick being to simmer the raw veg various (beets, turnip, onion, the last of our summer squash) together, then when it is liquidised add a cooked beetroot. Followed by a leafy salad with tomatoes, roasted pumpkin, and avocado (guess which wasn't home grown) that was equally bright, it has been a good couple of days at the table for the eyes as well as the taste buds.
My pretend borscht wouldn't have suited one good friend of ours, who dubs beetroot 'the devil's vegetable', and dislikes soup as a concept. We could never have made a couple. Beet at a pinch I could forego; soup never. I'm not a big fan of chilled soups, maybe making them once or twice at most through the summer. But autumn, winter and spring in this household will see three or four a week served up.
Perhaps the problem with her dislike of soup, and we're back to the colour thing again, is that so often it can be murky brown, camouflage green, or vaguely red. In another post somewhere I have written about French hotel soup, delicious and economic (stock from the previous day's or days' meat leavings and bones, and veg a little past their best), something I love but which it has to be admitted is never a delight to the eyes. But it doesn't have to be that way, surely? So my tiny personal task over the next few weeks is to make Technicolour soups. First idea - avocado and green chili. We'll see.
Thursday, 4 October 2018
Another Damn Glut
Quinces, apples, courgettes, beetroot, lettuce... and the latest in the line of our gluts is pumpkins. Not the ginormous ones really only good for carving at Halloween, and maybe for feeding the five thousand, but Uchiki Kuri, Turk's Turban and another whose name escapes me, though it may be Tom Thumb. The Uchiki Kuri in particular is just the right size, providing enough sunburst flesh for a dish for two to four people.
As with the other gluts, there's great pleasure to be had in making the best of the plenty while it lasts, though with pumpkins - for accuracy I should be saying 'winter squash' - they keep very well if dry and clean, lasting into the spring.
Their iron skin (especially Turk's Turban, which has all the give of a battle tank) is doubtless what keeps them from going off, but can be a hard slog to cut through to get at the good stuff inside. The cooked flesh, by way of contrast, is melting and delicate. Thus far into pumpkin season we have had pumpkin in soup, risotto, mixed roast vegetables, and tea bread with walnuts.
No repetition needed in the next few assaults on the orange stockpile, either, as I've made pumpkin curry and (an HF-W idea) pumpkin-centric salad in the past, and in the dim and distant pumpkin pie (which was delicious).
I can't help feeling virtuous when eating them, as they are chock full of fibre, beta carotene, and a spread of vitamins. But I trust that health remains a secondary, if important, consideration in my cookery. They are above all tasty. Sternest Critic, when visited at our flat in Trearddur last week, cooked us an absolutely superb mushroom and pumpkin risotto, roasting slices of an Uchiki Kuri we had taken with us, then cooking the flesh stripped from the skin down further in the rice until it was almost part of the stock, but not quite. The flavour was wonderful, and the mouthfeel very satisfying and sensuous. Healthy can be delicious.
A side-note here: much though I love mushrooms, I find their colour - that flat grey - somewhat dispiriting to look at. The pumpkin-flesh orange in that risotto, not in your face but a background to the dish, was far more pleasing. And given we're now being told to have a rainbow on our plates (will the gold at the end be a problem?) it covers the 'of' bit of the old spectrum jingle nicely.
I just counted up our resources, and there are 16 of the things left. Writing this has made me think I really need to cook another one tonight. At this time of year, and pretty much only this time, you don't need to grow your own to enjoy pumpkin. In Morrison's the other day they had bowls wood sized ones (so manageable) for, I think, £0.70p, which if they're anything like as good as ours is a bargain.
As with the other gluts, there's great pleasure to be had in making the best of the plenty while it lasts, though with pumpkins - for accuracy I should be saying 'winter squash' - they keep very well if dry and clean, lasting into the spring.
Their iron skin (especially Turk's Turban, which has all the give of a battle tank) is doubtless what keeps them from going off, but can be a hard slog to cut through to get at the good stuff inside. The cooked flesh, by way of contrast, is melting and delicate. Thus far into pumpkin season we have had pumpkin in soup, risotto, mixed roast vegetables, and tea bread with walnuts.
No repetition needed in the next few assaults on the orange stockpile, either, as I've made pumpkin curry and (an HF-W idea) pumpkin-centric salad in the past, and in the dim and distant pumpkin pie (which was delicious).
I can't help feeling virtuous when eating them, as they are chock full of fibre, beta carotene, and a spread of vitamins. But I trust that health remains a secondary, if important, consideration in my cookery. They are above all tasty. Sternest Critic, when visited at our flat in Trearddur last week, cooked us an absolutely superb mushroom and pumpkin risotto, roasting slices of an Uchiki Kuri we had taken with us, then cooking the flesh stripped from the skin down further in the rice until it was almost part of the stock, but not quite. The flavour was wonderful, and the mouthfeel very satisfying and sensuous. Healthy can be delicious.
A side-note here: much though I love mushrooms, I find their colour - that flat grey - somewhat dispiriting to look at. The pumpkin-flesh orange in that risotto, not in your face but a background to the dish, was far more pleasing. And given we're now being told to have a rainbow on our plates (will the gold at the end be a problem?) it covers the 'of' bit of the old spectrum jingle nicely.
I just counted up our resources, and there are 16 of the things left. Writing this has made me think I really need to cook another one tonight. At this time of year, and pretty much only this time, you don't need to grow your own to enjoy pumpkin. In Morrison's the other day they had bowls wood sized ones (so manageable) for, I think, £0.70p, which if they're anything like as good as ours is a bargain.
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
Alternative Equivalence
The hunt for the ponciest title for a post goes on.
With Halloween less than a fortnight away the shops are full of pumpkins, and I find it sad (and wasteful) that so many of them will not be used for culinary purposes. I have nothing against making lanterns out of the things, but do try to use the scooped-out flesh too please. We have about 10 small pumpkins drying and hardening in our conservatory, to extend their storage life, and a few still to be gathered from the allotment. I don't grow the monster ones anymore, small son having grown into large (student) son unlikely to be revisiting trick or treating and Halloween parties anytime soon, and the dinkier ones (think the size of a crown green bowling wood - how Northern is that?) are tastier and provide enough for a single serving or a soup ingredient.
Soup was what one such became last night, and what a soup. Simple, velvety, delicious. There is a traditional French soup made with pumpkin (potiron in French btw, as enjoyable a word to savour as our own pumpkin) and pounded shrimps, but not having shrimps I ventured crab instead. Tinned crab is a store-cupboard standby here, not as good as fresh, but not too far off. Trying substitute ingredients like that can lead to interesting discoveries.
From start to ready took just 25 minutes. A chopped onion was gently sauteed in butter until opaque, then a sliced clove of garlic added for a further minute or two. A spud cut into little dice went in, then the chopped pumpkin flesh (peeled, de-seeded and de-fibred). When they had all sweated for five or six minutes a pint of hot chicken stock went in, followed by 1/4 pint of hot milk. Lastly the tin of white meat crab chucks joined them to warm through, and the lot was zhooshed with a hand blender until really smooth, with salt and plenty of pepper to get the seasoning right. It even gained a (pointless) cheffy foam on top with the blending.
That made enough for a bowl and a half each. It was like a crab bisque without the faffage of crushing and sieving the shell. The crab dominated the flavour, the veg lent it just the right consistency. The pumpkin I used - seeds from Garden Organic - is green-skinned and -fleshed, so you'd have guessed pea soup by looking at it. I'll repeat the exercise with one of the orangey-yellow variety, expecting it to be more pleasing to the eye. Definitely to be tried again more than once this autumn.
With Halloween less than a fortnight away the shops are full of pumpkins, and I find it sad (and wasteful) that so many of them will not be used for culinary purposes. I have nothing against making lanterns out of the things, but do try to use the scooped-out flesh too please. We have about 10 small pumpkins drying and hardening in our conservatory, to extend their storage life, and a few still to be gathered from the allotment. I don't grow the monster ones anymore, small son having grown into large (student) son unlikely to be revisiting trick or treating and Halloween parties anytime soon, and the dinkier ones (think the size of a crown green bowling wood - how Northern is that?) are tastier and provide enough for a single serving or a soup ingredient.
Soup was what one such became last night, and what a soup. Simple, velvety, delicious. There is a traditional French soup made with pumpkin (potiron in French btw, as enjoyable a word to savour as our own pumpkin) and pounded shrimps, but not having shrimps I ventured crab instead. Tinned crab is a store-cupboard standby here, not as good as fresh, but not too far off. Trying substitute ingredients like that can lead to interesting discoveries.
From start to ready took just 25 minutes. A chopped onion was gently sauteed in butter until opaque, then a sliced clove of garlic added for a further minute or two. A spud cut into little dice went in, then the chopped pumpkin flesh (peeled, de-seeded and de-fibred). When they had all sweated for five or six minutes a pint of hot chicken stock went in, followed by 1/4 pint of hot milk. Lastly the tin of white meat crab chucks joined them to warm through, and the lot was zhooshed with a hand blender until really smooth, with salt and plenty of pepper to get the seasoning right. It even gained a (pointless) cheffy foam on top with the blending.
That made enough for a bowl and a half each. It was like a crab bisque without the faffage of crushing and sieving the shell. The crab dominated the flavour, the veg lent it just the right consistency. The pumpkin I used - seeds from Garden Organic - is green-skinned and -fleshed, so you'd have guessed pea soup by looking at it. I'll repeat the exercise with one of the orangey-yellow variety, expecting it to be more pleasing to the eye. Definitely to be tried again more than once this autumn.
Monday, 25 November 2013
Don't Waste That Pumpkin
How many of the pumpkins bought for Halloween actually get used for food? Even a good percentage of the many squashes grown on the nation's allotments probably get stuck in a bowl on the table as a nice natural decoration to be thrown away when they fall to bits. I felt very virtuous yesterday using a Turk's Turban squash as part of our Sunday roast extravaganza. And it was lovely.
The fruit, for such it is pedants, had been sitting in our conservatory for a month, picked to avoid being nicked before halloween, then playing the role of something I'd get round to eventually, which turned out to be yesterday.
Thanks to Nigel Slater, as ever fab ideas, annoying writing: I got the basic idea from his Tender Part 1.
The squash was peeled, cleaned of stingy bits and seeds, and cut into one inch dice (that's 2.54cm dice for those of a modern bent), then rolled in loads of crushed garlic, thyme from outside the back door, and Maldon salt (how very Middle Class is that?). Roasted (in a solid Le Creuset dish so piling exotic bourgeois onto solid Middle Class) along with the chicken and some red onions to make use of the oven it smelled fantastic, the outside crisping and garlicky the inside soft and melting.
This was another of those dishes that not only tastes good, but looks superb, a rich sunshine gold, something to raise the spirits at this time of the year when it seems to go dark about 15 minutes after dawn.
The fruit, for such it is pedants, had been sitting in our conservatory for a month, picked to avoid being nicked before halloween, then playing the role of something I'd get round to eventually, which turned out to be yesterday.
Thanks to Nigel Slater, as ever fab ideas, annoying writing: I got the basic idea from his Tender Part 1.
The squash was peeled, cleaned of stingy bits and seeds, and cut into one inch dice (that's 2.54cm dice for those of a modern bent), then rolled in loads of crushed garlic, thyme from outside the back door, and Maldon salt (how very Middle Class is that?). Roasted (in a solid Le Creuset dish so piling exotic bourgeois onto solid Middle Class) along with the chicken and some red onions to make use of the oven it smelled fantastic, the outside crisping and garlicky the inside soft and melting.
This was another of those dishes that not only tastes good, but looks superb, a rich sunshine gold, something to raise the spirits at this time of the year when it seems to go dark about 15 minutes after dawn.
Thursday, 31 October 2013
Bonfire Night Bash
For some reason not entirely unconnected to my date of birth we regularly have a party near Bonfire Night. There was no intention to make it an annual thing when we started, but it has become that way and I'm not complaining. Traditions can be enjoyable. Apart from anything else it gives me the chance to force a small crowd with no alternative sustenance to hand to try what I think should be eaten on such occasions.
One of those dishes is inevitably pumpkin-based, as we grow stupidly large ones for Halloween and then need to make the most of the flesh they yield. I bet that 95 per cent of all the pumpkins shifted by the supermarkets this week will make lanterns and nothing more, a sad waste. Pumpkin soup or curry, and almost definitely pumpkin pie will use some of ours, plenty more bulking out stews later on.
Another dish, and this is one with serious repercussions, will be Lancashire Pea Soup made with two boxes of dried peas and about a pig's worth of bacon ribs. Bacon ribs which have become expensive now, joining the ranks of lamb shanks and monkfish in my whinge-list. It's something I associate with Bonfire Night bashes, my Lancastrian-family-in-exile in Norfolk in the Sixties and Seventies adhering to such culinary traditions I guess more than those who remained in the county. Home-made bonfire toffee always featured too, made by my dad as the soup often was, and parkin (again, not shop-bought).
Maybe the third planned dish will become something my son will want to make a tradition of his own in the future. There's a good chance as his culinary ideal is large pieces of flesh. I'm nicking the Man v Food thing of a slowly-cooked dry-rubbed brisket served with BBQ sauce, the brisket ordered well in advance as it's not something always on the butcher's counter. The house on the day will be filled with the smell of herbs, spices, sugar and steaming-roasting beef.
Traditions start like that, being taken up without being purposely created. At my first university, which was a post-WWII creation and very wonderful too, some twit tried to make an instant tradition by having 'Fresher's Gate' painted over one small entrance beside a huge one. No takers, whereas borrowing refectory trays when it snowed, the polished wood becoming a perfect makeshift one-man sledge, certainly was adopted. Which may mean Sternest Critic goes for the pumpkin pie instead when he rules his own roost.
One of those dishes is inevitably pumpkin-based, as we grow stupidly large ones for Halloween and then need to make the most of the flesh they yield. I bet that 95 per cent of all the pumpkins shifted by the supermarkets this week will make lanterns and nothing more, a sad waste. Pumpkin soup or curry, and almost definitely pumpkin pie will use some of ours, plenty more bulking out stews later on.
Another dish, and this is one with serious repercussions, will be Lancashire Pea Soup made with two boxes of dried peas and about a pig's worth of bacon ribs. Bacon ribs which have become expensive now, joining the ranks of lamb shanks and monkfish in my whinge-list. It's something I associate with Bonfire Night bashes, my Lancastrian-family-in-exile in Norfolk in the Sixties and Seventies adhering to such culinary traditions I guess more than those who remained in the county. Home-made bonfire toffee always featured too, made by my dad as the soup often was, and parkin (again, not shop-bought).
Maybe the third planned dish will become something my son will want to make a tradition of his own in the future. There's a good chance as his culinary ideal is large pieces of flesh. I'm nicking the Man v Food thing of a slowly-cooked dry-rubbed brisket served with BBQ sauce, the brisket ordered well in advance as it's not something always on the butcher's counter. The house on the day will be filled with the smell of herbs, spices, sugar and steaming-roasting beef.
Traditions start like that, being taken up without being purposely created. At my first university, which was a post-WWII creation and very wonderful too, some twit tried to make an instant tradition by having 'Fresher's Gate' painted over one small entrance beside a huge one. No takers, whereas borrowing refectory trays when it snowed, the polished wood becoming a perfect makeshift one-man sledge, certainly was adopted. Which may mean Sternest Critic goes for the pumpkin pie instead when he rules his own roost.
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