Post-hummus perfection

I have been trying to make perfect hummus for YEARS. Every incarnation has had some sort of problem - too thick, too much oil, too garlicky, too bland. I've tried various recipes and that yielded no success either. Last night I went completely off road and I finally stumbled on a winner - it's a total bastardisation of how hummus is usually made, but hey, it tastes good so who cares?

What you need
A hand blender with food processor attachment, or a food processor
1 can of chickpeas, drained
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 clove of garlic chopped
1 tablespoon tahini
olive oil
juice of 1 lemon
some boiled water
salt

The do
In a frying pan, heat a tablespoon of olive oil and fry the garlic for a 30 seconds on medium heat, throw in the spices and drained chickpeas. Fry for a little longer, moving the chickpeas around the pan coating them in the oil and spices. When it starts to smell nice and spicy, take off the heat and transfer into the food processor. Add the tahini, a generous pinch of salt, a glug of olive oil, lemon juice and a splash of boiled water and blitz until smooth, adding more water as needed to achieve the right consistency. Taste and add more salt if needed.

This is great with some salad, tomato and halloumi in a wholemeal pita pocket.

Tunes
IRM Charlotte Gainsbourg

the loveliest lump of clay

Back in February I dragged a huge tagine home from the Atlas Mountains in Morocco. Last month I cooked in it for the first time. Now I'm finally posting the results. Slow cooking indeed.

A couple of things I did manage to do way back when were prepare the tagine (by soaking and oiling it) and preserve some lemons. Lemon preserving is perfectly suited for my kind of attention span. I had no trouble dumping them in the back of a dark cupboard and forgetting about them for weeks on end and they taste an absolute treat for the neglect.

Preserved Lemons
There are probably more techie ways to do this but I went with the directions given to me in Fes. Essentially, cut a cross in the top of each lemon, stuff the fruit with sea salt, squash the lemons into a tightly sealed jar with some lemon juice, water and more sea salt. Then leave them well alone for three to four weeks. I am happy to report that this method proved successful in my kitchen (though stuffing the lemons with salt was a bit of a bastard).


What you'll need for the tagine
Whatever veg your heart desires. I reckon aubergine would have been lovely but I went with what was in the kitchen:

1 Sweet potato (chopped)
1 leek (washed and quartered)
2 zucchini (sliced fairly thickly)
3 fresh tomatoes
1 tin of tomatoes
1 onion
1 fennel
1 preserved lemon
Cummin seeds
Fennel seeds
Paprika
1 bay leaf
Red wine
A handful of green olives
A handful of dried dates
1 tin of chick peas

Make a little veggie stock on the side
With so much veg getting skinned, chopped and grated, this is the perfect opportunity to put all the scraps and peelings into a separate saucepan and make some stock while your tagine is simmering.

Making the tagine
With an electric stove you need a rivet under the tagine to prevent the veggies at the bottom burning. If you are planning a real slow cook, it is advisable to do this with an open flame also.

Heat olive oil in your tagine on med-low heat then soften the onion slowly (I grated mine to make things a bit gooey). Add the chopped dates and a pinch of paprika.



Quarter the preserved lemon. Chop three quarters into small pieces. Toast your seeds in a separate pan, crush them then add them to the onion along with the chopped, preserved lemon. Stir through, followed by all the other veggies, the bay leaf and olives.

Cut your tomatoes in half and grate the flesh off the skin to pulp them. Add with the tinned tomatoes to the tagine. Pour in a generous splash of red wine, seal your tagine and let it simmer on a very low heat for hours on end (about four in this instance).



I think it's best to ignore the whole thing from here on in. If you open the lid too often you'll lose moisture. Just make sure the little bowl at the top of the tagine stays topped up with cold water so the heat circulates through. Twenty minutes before serving, mix in the chick peas. Cut out and discard the flesh of your remaining preserved lemon quarter then slice the skin into thin strips. Add this bit of tang to the cooked tagine to serve (along with some fresh coriander if you like or a few more olives).

strolling through a field of cabbages

A guy on Radio 4 says you should imagine yourself strolling through a field of cabbages when you feel like snapping someone out. It's a totally neutral, beige kind of activity, he reasons, so the idea of it will calm you down. Is this dude insane? Has he NEVER smelt a rotten cabbage!!?! Jeeeezus, man...

Sometimes in a city like London it really is easier to crank up than calm down. Instead of settling for simple cabbages, say, one must have only the most exclusive cabbage in the world, genetically modified to never stink and fertilised by the shit of a single silk worm that only appears every 28 years. Otherwise, one might get all tantrumy. This week is my last in the kitchen that has hitherto been Lily HQ. I don't particularly want to move and have been getting VERY razzed out. I need to think about more than frolicking in a field of cabbages to simmer down, and fast. Here goes...

Beginning: 9 at night and still light is alright. Days are so sunny this week I'm walking to and from work along the Thames south bank, coffee in hand one way and riverside glass of vino the other (breathe and repeat).

Middle: The brilliant diddywah (I know, I'm biased) has listed us alongside an inspired set of vego musical jewels (visit the post here).

End: Chew's got me swooning over Nigel Slater and his Kitchen Diaries. Apart from the fact he knows food real good, the sweet enthusiasm, detailed disappointments and occasional lapses into culinary laziness as he documents a year in his beautifully photographed kitchen are just fine by us. I pay homage to Nige this evening by vegetarianising one of his dishes (no cabbages in sight).



May 7: Chickpeas with Harissa, basil and Aubergine

Preparation is simple on this light, sweet and tangy number as long as you have some roasting time up your sleeve.

What you need (for 2)

1 small-med aubergine or 3/4 a big one, roughly chopped into chunks
A couple of handfuls of pricked cherry tomatoes (or 2-3 big ones, chopped)
Fresh basil leaves
1/2 teaspoon of cumin seeds (a decent pinch)
Red wine vinegar (I didn't have it, so used Orleans vinegar and red wine).
1 x 400g can of chickpeas
Harissa paste (from the tin, jar, tube or home made if you know how).
A big handful of kalamata or other fresh olives (I get mine from Borough Olives).


How it's done

Preheat your oven to 200C (gas 6). Toss your aubergine and toms in an oven tray with the cumin, a big splash of red wine vinegar, pinches of salt and pepper and a generous amount of olive oil (he says 60ml but I have never measured olive oil in my life; coat 'em good, I say). Roast for an hour or, to quote the man himself, "until the aubergine is soft and golden brown, the tomatoes are caught slightly at the edges and the whole lot is fragrant, sizzling and juicy." Sigh. At about 40 minutes chuck in the olives so they warm through.

Drain the chick peas and toss them in with the roasted veg, along with the fresh basil, a glug of olive oil and a big squirt of harissa (Nige says a teaspoon for 4 people: I'd never be so meagre but then it depends how spicy you like it). Mix it all around in the juices then get munching.