Taking it out on the tomatillo

Tonight I'm suffering from a residual case of The Rage, something I picked up from a very frustrating day in the office. I find the best cure for this is to get out my knife and start chopping stuff into very small pieces.
The victims: those two tomatillos and a whole load of other stuff.

What you need
2 tomatillos, diced finely
half a big red chili, diced finely
2 shallots, diced finely
2 spring onion stalks and green bits, diced
1 small bunch of coriander
1 butternut squash, halved lengthways and de-seeded
olive oil



The do
Chop the top part of the squash off, cube and throw into the roasting tray. Rub the inside of the squash "bowls" with a little salt. Drizzle everything in a little oil and bake until you can stick a fork into it.

While the squash is in the oven, combine all the ingredients by chopping them on a board and keep on chopping until the pieces are as small as you can get them. Feel that Rage subside!
When the squash is done, fill the squash bowls with the chopped mixture, drizzle liberally with some good olive oil and return to the oven. Pack away the squash offcuts and use for tomorrow's salad or risotto.



When it's all sizzling and heated through it's done - around 15-20 minutes at 180. Cover with chopped coriander leaves.
Ahhhh. Serenity now.

The tomatillos are tarty little buggers - they need a little bit of cooking time, but they marry well with the sweetness of the baked squash, chili and shallots.

Note: For the observant types out there who may be lying awake tonight pondering the lifespan of the tomatillo, I should probably mention that I started this post a few weeks ago, and didn't finish it until right now...sorry!

Also! Thanks to everyone who participated in the tomatillo quiz. Without you, those puppies would have shriveled up at the back of my fridge!

Hello spinach

This morning on my way to work I was waiting at the pedestrian crossing at the end of my street. A cyclist rode past and said "konichiwa". This happens to me randomly at least twice a month without fail, although occasionally "konichiwa" is replaced with "ni hao". I guess sometimes people just really want to say hello.
Here is a Japanese-inspired spinach side dish - the traditional version comes sans lemon but I've thrown it in because spinach and lemon are a match made in heaven.

HORENSO-GOMAAE with a lemony twist

What you need
1 bunch of adult spinach
2 tablespoons good quality soy or tamari
1 teaspoon of mirin
1 wedge of lemon
1 pot of boiling water
1/2 teaspoon sesame oil
Sesame seeds
bamboo sushi mat


The do
Wash the spinach, and place the whole bunch into the boiling water. After a few minutes, drain. Rinse under cold tap, then lay the spinach across the sushi mat so some stems fall on the right side and some on the left. Roll the mat up like a cigarette and then squeeze firmly over the sink to get rid of the excess water.



Carefully unroll the mat and transfer to a chopping board. With a very sharp knife cut the spinach roll into segments and lay in a small dish.
Combine the mirin, soy, sesame oil and lemon. Pour over the spinach and sprinkle with sesame seeds.

Name that foodstuff

I bought this beautiful fruit or vegetable yesterday, but don't know what it is! Can anyone out there help me?

Saturday Night chimichanga

Sabor
108 Essex Road
London, N1 8LX
020 7226 5551

Lately I've been making a big effort to eat out locally. Mainly because it's kinda nice to be able to stroll home with a full tummy, rather than hop onto a bendy bus and find a clear space to stand amongst the chicken bones and Mc Donald's refuse. Most places in the vicinity of N1 are all show and no go, but in such a huge area I know there has to be at least a few gems.

I'd been past this South American restaurant on Essex Rd hundreds of times, and never gave the place a second thought because its glass frontage just looked a little uninviting. After reading a few good reviews, we decided to check it out.
(At this point I should warn you that I have an obsession with the word chimichanga. Chimichanga, chimichanga, chimichanga.)
OK, now I've got that out of my system I can confidently say that these guys make the best chimichangas I've ever had. Full flavoured black eyed beans and mushrooms with a hint of cheese encased in light, crispy filo served with a spicy salsa. Fantastic. We also had the quinoa fritters and the terrine - also top notch. Another highlight were the Yuca fritas, perfectly deep-fried batons of cassava that put spuds to shame.



Epileptics and people who share Bono's sensitivity to light, beware: eating in this establishment may cause discomfort. There are not one, not two but SEVEN disco balls hanging from the ceiling. It's like prom night without the frocks and cheek to cheek dancing. Despite all this, the food managed to outshine the disco balls, and after a few excellent cocktails from the bar, you'd barely notice they were there.
The dessert menu also looked a treat but I was stuffed to the gills and unable to partake, so if you go, make sure you save some room.

Yay! They have a cloakroom so your coats/scarves/hats won't get in the way of your delicious meal

Boo! Some tables are very close together, which is fine...until you get seated next to a flamboyant man who likes talking to strangers and wears hats indoors (a pet peeve of Carters)

Cost: starters, mains and cocktails for two - around £40
Veg friendly: 3.5/5
Service: 4.5/5

Chowing down on chowder

Celeriac has been a regular in my market shopping bag for the last few months. So far, I've been making Lily's celeriac soup, or mashing it up as a side, but now I feel the need to do something different with it. Here is a hearty chowder that will fill your belly on those cold lonely nights. And it's great for lunch the next day too.

CELERIAC, SWEETCORN AND BUTTERBEAN CHOWDER
The celeriac gives the chowder a lovely light earthy flavour, the corn adds a sweet textural difference while the potato brings everyone together for a big group hug.

What you need
1 can of butter beans, drained and rinsed. (Or if you have time soak some dried beans overnight and use those)
1 celeriac, peeled and cut into cubes
3 potatoes, washed and cut into cubes
1/2 a pint of soy milk
2 heaped teaspoons of Marigold bouillon powder
2 big leeks sliced
2 medium sized onions, finely diced
1 sprig of rosemary
Fresh parsley

The do
Put a kettle on the boil. In a big pan over medium heat, fry the leeks, rosemary and onions in some oil until soft. Add the celeriac and potato, fry for a few minutes then pour boiling water over the veg until just covered, add the bouillon. Keep at slow boil without the lid, when you can just stick a fork through the celeriac, throw in the beans. Turn the heat down and simmer until the beans become plump and take on the flavours of the soup. Do not allow to boil at this point or else the beans will split and breakdown into mush. When the beans are done, add the milk and simmer for a further 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve with some crusty bread and fresh parsley.

When gravity strikes...

While I was going through my old photos the other day I came across this picture, taken the last time Adam was in town.
I'd taken the day off work, and we spent the whole afternoon together drinking wine and constructing an amazing lasagne. Adam made fresh lasagne sheets while I grilled aubergine, and roasted vegetables. Each layer was debated, then lovingly applied. Then it came time to bung it in the oven. I lifted it off the bench, but didn't quite get a good grip on it (it was a lot heavier than I expected) then...



(apologies for the blurry shot, I was laughing so hard I couldn't keep the camera still)
I dropped the entire dish on the floor and in a lame attempt to try and catch it on its way down I slammed it against the kitchen cupboard which then swung the dish upside down causing the contents of the lasagne to spill all over the inside of the hot oven and the floor.

We had to bypass the 5-second rule, because we were paralysed with laughter - but we did finally manage to scoop it back into the dish and bake it. And it was very, very delicious.
The weekend after that I spent a whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing out the oven...and that wasn't as funny.

Lunch Spot number 1

There's no sadness like toast at your desk at 1pm. A woman is not a machine and on my lunch break I want to feel free. I want to have time to at least get through the national and international pages in a corner somewhere with a tasty plate of whatever in front of me. It doesn't happen often, but fuck it, when it does I figure it's worth sharing.

Hence the introduction of my lunch spots to Lily & Chew, lest you ever find yourself lost and hungry in Shoreditch, because maybe you're checking out Spitalfields market, playing the art/fashion/vintage scene, speaking at a nu rave convention or dreaming up a post-punk post-nu-punk post-ironic post-post-ironic band name. (There's also an American Apparel nearby, which is handy).

My criteria for a nice place to have lunch:

1. Full belly for a fiver or less.
2. More than one meat-free option that sounds nice (two is fine) and has a happy ending (tastes good).
3. There has to be something pretty about it, which is more of a feeling, really, because it could be pretty in a sweet way or in a grimey way, but still fun either way.
4. A table that doesn't wobble.



Bricklayer's Arms
First cab off the rank is a pub. We are in London, after all, a city full of workers enjoying wet lunches every day of the week. The problem with most boozers is that the food is gobshite. Not so at the Bricklayer's Arms.

Luckily I work with very nice people (thanks to Spinky for the beautiful pic at the top of this post) so I'm happy to sometimes find myself sharing my lunch hour and the Bricklayer's is an ideal place for just such an occasion. Their Thai kitchen produces a lunchtime menu deep in flavour and light on the wallet. There's a veggie and tofu version of nearly everything, they don't skimp on quality or authentic Thai flavours and meals are big. The public bar is a lovely, warm, woody space, with a handful of real ales on tap, if that's your thing. And, wonder of wonders, the music is great.

Cost: £4.95 for one course/ £6.50 for two
Veg Options: Multiple
Flavours: Thai (curries, pad thai, chili rice etc)
Atmosphere: A light, refreshed (but nicely worn in) local with lots of wood and pretty beer fonts
Wankers: None

Nutty Spice

This evening I arrived home to find the kitchen floor covered in food. At first I thought the cat had tried to fix her own dinner, but soon realised that the shelves in the pantry had collapsed, spilling its contents everywhere. A pain in the arse, but once I finished sweeping up the pesky bits of quinoa and risotto rice, I discovered that I had about ten almost-finished packets of assorted nuts. Instead of throwing them back into the bowels of the pantry never to be seen again, I chucked them all into a baking tray and made the best of a very nutty situation.

What you need
About 280-300 grams of mixed nuts, unsalted (I used raw cashews, brazil nuts, raw peanuts, hazelnuts, walnuts
half a teaspoon each of smoked paprika, ground cumin, ground coriander, chili powder (less or more depending on how much heat you can take)
1 very big pinch of sea salt (or 2 if you love salt)
3 tablespoons of olive oil

The do
Heat oven to 200 degrees C. Grab a deepish metal baking tray, throw in the nuts, then the spices then the oil. Shake the tray around until the nuts are evenly coated in the oil and spices. Roast in the oven for around 10 minutes or less, toss them every couple of minutes so they roast evenly. They burn very quickly so don't get distracted like I did. When they are slightly browned they're done. Empty tray onto some kitchen paper to cool completely then store in a airtight jar.

Fanny and fajitas

As if veganism doesn't suffer in the publicity game enough, from Portland this week comes news that one Johnny Diablo is using his meat-free philosophy to flog a new strip joint. He explains it on his blog thus:

"We do things a little differently around here, number one of which is that we don't murder innocent creatures. That's right. Casa Diablo Gentlemen's Club is the world's first and only vegan strip club. Don't be fooled by the political correctness posers out there. We aren't feminazis. We are femi-libertarians! Creatures, human and non-human, should be allowed to do what ever they want as long as they don't step on someone else's hooves."

Portland's Willamette Week newspaper reports: "The club’s main claim to veganism seems to be that strippers cannot wear any leather, fur, silk or wool. If a dancer slips up and sports snakeskin heels, Diablo says he pulls the woman aside to talk about 'not bringing murder victims into the establishment'." Righteous.

Given the nature of their work, a restrictive dress code for strippers isn't too much of a stretch. But what of the patrons, will they have to check their leather shoes at the door or leave their croc skin wallets at home? Not a word about that, and not likely if this blog post is anything to go by: "Come see all the hot dancers and bring plenty of cash for the ladies. We have an ATM on site if you need more."

As for what's cooking in Casa Diablo's kitchen, the W Week story says: "The club’s no-frills Mexican-based menu comes with no description of meals—just a title, like “Fajita Platter $8.00” with “choose steak or chicken” written underneath. (Diablo says he enjoys duping meat-eating customers, and that what’s served is gluten-free, wheat-based soy.)"

Way to push the vegan message, man... force a few carnivorous blokes checking out naked ladies to eat fake meat. Move over Jamie Oliver.

Visit The Gurgling Cod for a nice bit of analysis on the story.

block rockin rhu-beets

I've said it before and I'll say it again: beets are beautiful. Earthy, sweet and bright as a blast of sunshine on a crisp and frosty winter afternoon. They are also ideal after a Sunday spent wandering through Highgate cemetery (home to reposing souls as diverse as Karl Marx and Titanic riders).

This recipe is a peculiar one. My interest was piqued when I read about rhubarb and potato soup a while back. When my research uncovered a Nordic dessert, I decided to take it into a different direction and go for something savoury instead, bringing beets into the mix. The result was delicious, fresh and tangy: potato held the rhubarb's creaminess while the beets tempered their tart ways and added some resistance to the mush. Lest it was a one-off fluke, I made it a second time. Once again, I enjoyed a gorgeous combination of mellow beets pushing against the barb's tongue lashing.



What you need
A bunch of small beets for 1/2 a bunch of rhubarb (twice as many beets for your barb is a good ratio)
1 med-large potato
Handful of fresh parsley
Handful of fresh sage (not essential)
Veggie stock
Splash white wine
Olive oil

Making it
Wash, peel and chop your beets and potato. Mix them through a couple of tablespoons of heated olive oil with your rhubarb (washed and chopped). Add some fresh chopped parsley and sage if you have them handy. Let it all heat through on medium for about ten minutes, stirring regularly. Add the wine and cook for another few minutes. Fill the pot with veggie stock and bring to the boil. Lower the heat and simmer for a good 20-30 minutes, until the rhubarb and the potato have disintegrated into mushy pieces.

Take your red hot soup off the stove and let it all calm down for a good five minutes. Blend in batches if need be (this is the last thing you want to send spinning round your kitchen walls). Divide between bowls. If you want to add a little creme fraiche, go right ahead. One thing I would advise is to accompany this soup with your favourite toast: its intensity warrants a small serving rather than a whopping plate. If you want to reduce the intensity, bring a little more potato into the mix.