I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.
I love Easter. It’s so optimistic. After the drab winter dark, the idea of new life becomes tangible. There is no denying the shoots and buds and seeds unfurling, blossoming and reaching for the light.
This year it’s even more poignant as we lick our wounds and shuffle warily and wearily towards the possibility of a lockdown-free future.
Nature’s on the move
And there’s food.
The youngest daughter has already placed an order for homemade hot cross buns this week; the eldest pines for the spiced, moist seasonal buns available from GAIL’sBakerydown south. Will they, she wonders, still be available when she finally returns to her London HQ post-Easter?
The idea of hot cross buns as roulade is genius. Liam Charles’hot cross roulade in Issue No.167 of Feast is a reconstruction rather than a deconstruction – a good thing in our book. Sweet, zesty, creamy, spiced – what more could you want?
I earnt my roulade spurs with my take on Ottolenghi’s chocolate and coconut mochi roulade a couple of weeks back, so Liam’s recipe was an opportunity to join the roll of honour. The recipe is easy-peasy and straightforward to follow.
I was fortunate that a friend had given me a jar of homemade lemon curd a week or so back, and The Husband had picked up a pot of mascarpone (ever optimistic that something sweet might miraculously form out of it) last time he was on supermarket duty. I didn’t have a swiss roll tin 27cm by 40cm and thought (foolishly as it turns out) that it would be fine to gently scrape the foamy frothy cake mix into one a bit smaller. A bit of oven-gazing and whimpering à la Great British Bake Off, a quick slice round the edges of the overspill, and we were good to go.
Liam suggests soaking the raisins (I used sultanas) in spiced rum. It’s a good call. As Master Chef’s Monica Galetti might say: it elevates the whole cake. I’m more of a ‘smear it on’ kind of gal, but I was even tempted to get out my piping bag and have a go at Liam’s ‘kisses’ along the top of my roulade. I had cream to spare despite being pretty generous with filling and topping.
Like most roulades, this is rich, sweet licks. It’s also clever. The ‘bun’ element of the roll has a distinctly enriched dough, slightly chewy mouth feel to it – a perfect foil to the melting, creamy, richness of the filling. The citrus tang is delivered by the orange zest in the cake and lemon curd in the cream with the nutmeg and cinnamon rounding up the hot cross bun riff. The eldest daughter and I found it on the sweet side, I’d add a bit more nutmeg if I made it again. The Husband was very happy with the levels of sweet and cream. Of course he was.
I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.
After such a long period of breath-holding it’s almost too scary to believe that we may be at a turning point with coronavirus. It’s times like these when a good dose of comfort food steadies the nerves and warms the heart – and distracts from something we almost daren’t believe in. Lovely, reliable food.
We’ve found that some issues of Feast don’t inspire us to rush immediately to the kitchen (although there’s always something to be tackled, of course). However, other issues have us racing to the hob before Saturday coffee – and offer such rich pickings that we plunder them again and again. So, for lashings of calming comfort, we returned to Issue No.162 and Felicity Cloake’s perfect keema – which had already gifted us Tamal Ray’s chai-spiced mousse with caramel pecans and several other recipes including Rachel Roddy’s magnificent pork, bread and bay skewers.
A sneak preview of the Husband’s take on Rachel Roddy’s fantabulous pork, bread and bay skewers – also from Feast Issue No.162
I’m still one foot down so The Husband and eldest daughter remain firmly in the cooking seat. The Husband has been creating all sorts of deliciousness – including the skewers pictured above – but is determined to guest blog about his endeavours. Last night it was the eldest daughter who stepped up to Felicity’s perfect keema challenge. She allowed me to meddle lightly in the prep of chilli, ginger and garlic before ushering me back to my foot-up observation point.
We agree with Felicity’s keema preference of lamb over beef – and fattier over lean – for this spicy, fragrant feel-good lip-smacker. Eldest daughter would have liked to add lamb bone marrow for an even richer vibe but none was available – next time. Total cooking and prep time about an hour.
The only hiccup was the realisation that we were low on fresh coriander. Oh, and that mint sauce was our only source of mint. Hey ho, in went the fresh coriander bolstered with frozen and The Husband persuaded eldest daughter to tip in a tablespoon of mint sauce. Perfect keema? Yeah baby! One of the fabulous things about this recipe is the pop of intense flavour delivered by those whole cardamom, coriander and cumin seeds. The final masterstroke was serving the keema with coconut rice (shavings from a block of creamed coconut cooked in with the rice) infused with cinnamon. The daughter had made enough keema and rice for five peckish people. We three wolfed down the lot.
Here’s to lockdown ending and staying ended – and taking comfort in comfort food for the sheer and simple joy of it.
I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.
Some weeks you look for the easy fix. Last week, Ravneet Gill’s no-cook miso caramel and chocolate tartblew the family’s collective palate. This week, it’s Guardian Feast Issue No.160. It’s a raging hoolie outside. I return from the newsagent (four and three quarter minutes along the road from my front door), drenched.
Guardian Feast Issue No.160 Ixta Belfrage/Ottolenghi: A mousse to enliven even the most dreich of days
Because it’s lockdown and, well, rain or shine and all that, we go for a bleak, wild coastal walk. When we return, we’re all a bit miserable and we need a quick, simple fix. Yotam Ottolenghi’s coffee mousse with tahini chocolate sauce (from Ottolenghi recipe developer Ixta Belfrage) is totally simple and OMG it offers all the umami salt, sweet, sour flavours of a full blowout Chinese takeaway without the monosodium glutamate and cornstarch. It has to be done. It’s the work of moments. A child could make it. Except…
Once doubts creep into your head, they enter food by osmosis.
Dear reader, I messed up.
But I rush ahead. I know I will never be a proper cook. I know this because I can single-handedly deflate the simplest of delicious mousses, and also because I shudder (and mutter expletives) when recipes say 3/4 tsp or 2 1/4 tbsp (don’t get me started on 1/8). I don’t know why the quarter thing gets to me more than, say, a half. But it does. Will a tiny fraction of an ingredient really make that much difference? Now, Ixta’s delicious idiot-proof mousse.
You create the mousse element by putting the first six ingredients into a stand mixer and whipping to medium soft peaks. I’m feeling a bit zoned and tip all the ingredients into my blender. I immediately realise this isn’t a great idea and want to transfer to a bowl and whisk by hand. But, you know, I’ve started now.
Once doubts creep into your head, they enter food by osmosis. As the blender grinds on, anxiety kicks in. I think I’ve got soft peaks, then I don’t. I leave the blender running a bit more. Then I let the mousse (which looks fine at this stage) stand for a while. I go to scoop it into my sundae glasses and decide it’s a bit runny. I chuck it back on the blender. It splits. Not badly, but that wonderful plumptious moussey sheen is disappearing fast. I start talking incessantly to myself about what an idiot I’ve been.
Hey-ho. It tastes fab-u-lous. Coffee. Tahini. Maple syrup. Cocoa. Soy sauce. Salty nuts. The Husband declares it ‘Sesame bars for people with no teeth’. Eldest daughter says ‘the salt and nuts bring it together. Gorgeous.’
The mousse is a sublime hit of salty, creamy nutty, coffee deliciousness. Maybe I’ll make it for breakfast.
Sesame bars for people with no teeth… the salt and nuts bring it together. Gorgeous.
It’s a damn fine pud. The perfect quick whip, no stress finale to impress friends with. Next time, (and there’ll be a next time) I’ll get a grip. In fact, in the three and a quarter minutes it took me to eat the mousse, I was already planning to make it again. Maybe for breakfast. Umami me up!
Meanwhile, I’m eyeing Lara Lee’s spicy soy pork and peanut instant noodles. I only have chicken in the house. That’ll be fine, yes?
I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.
After the extravaganza that was Ravneet Gill’s miso caramel and chocolate tart (see my take on that here) in Guardian Feast Issue No.159, I’ll confess that Pamela Yung’s celeriac cake with winter citrus looked a tad dull. Still, I had a celeriac in stock so what the heck. Well. Pamela’s recipe does not so much reimagine celeriac as launch it into its own galaxy of cake heaven.
I can safely say that it was one of the most delicious raw cake mixes I’ve ever eaten.
By some miracle I had 180g of wholegrain spelt flour. I topped it up to 240g with rye flour. The eldest daughter doesn’t like celeriac (another good reason for disguising it in a cake!) or celery. I opted for another member of the Apiaceae family with a different flavour accent to replace the required dose of one teaspoon of celery seeds: fennel (I later found I didn’t have any celery seeds anyway). I completely missed the fact that I was supposed to add 100ml of grapeseed oil after the eggs – hey-ho, the finished cake didn’t seem to mind that I’d missed that particular memo. I licked the spatula after I’d scraped the mix into the greased and lined tin. I can safely say that it was one of the most delicious raw cake mixes I’ve ever eaten.
I suddenly started looking forward to the finished cake a whole lot more.
Meyer lemons are not something we have in this house or are ever likely to source in Berwick, so I created my ‘winter citrus’ garnish with bog standard lemons and oranges. I sliced the fruit and brewed the syrup while the cake cooked. My cake took about five minutes more in the oven than the max of 40 minutes that Pamela suggests.
I did just about wait for it to cool before I sliced, but that early taste had me impatient to try the end product. I whipped up the dollop of vintage crème fraiche I found lurking in a yellowing tub at the back of the fridge and garnished with a flourish of grated satsuma zest and hey presto! Even the celeriac-hating daughter declared it ‘delicious!’. The Husband agreed. His verdict: ‘A light cake with a richer darker flavour.’ You definitely get pops of earthiness but I’m not sure I would have identified celeriac if I hadn’t known. Yum.
This is definitely a recipe I would not have tried if I were not committed to my year with Guardian Feast. I’m very glad I did. Thanks Pamela Yung and Guardian Feast.
I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.
From Guardian Feast issue No.157 on Saturday 16 January 2021, my take on three dishes no less! Ravinder Bhogal’spineapple, kale and red cabbage salad, Meerha Sodha’s vegan Hoppin’ John and Tamal Ray’s sweet spot lemon crumble cookies. Links to all original recipes at the end of the post.
First off, I had to try Tamal Ray’s lemon crumble cookies. What better way to start a Saturday than a fresh baked cookie with your mid-morning coffee and a sit down with the paper?
As Tamal says, these are a ‘cinch’ to make, requiring pleasingly few ingredients – all in most people’s store cupboards. In our house we have a bit of a citrus mountain: all those lemons destined for G&Ts and limes for margaritas have languished in our fruit bowl in the wake of Dry January. So, it’s good to find a different outlet for the little beauties. One friend has taken to making dried limes from her lime mountain a la Ottolenghi – more of that later.
I’ve never made cookies by piling the crumbed mix up on the tray for the heat of the oven to fuse into crumbly delights – I used an upside-down pastry cutter for a regular size and shape, which worked well. Unusually for me, I managed to get the precise number of cookies (16) Tamal said I should.
Just one beef here, Tamal: January’s hard enough without more restraint. The mere idea that these crumbly citrus beauties should be ‘sealed in an airtight container, something to be enjoyed over a couple of weeks’… er, no, not in our household.
Tamal Ray’s lemon crumble cookies. Not a crumb left after two days in our household. Sorry.
On the Sunday we went for a long walk out of Berwick to Spittal, along a very waterlogged section of the Coastal Path to Cocklawburn Beach and back home through the fields and woods of Scremerston.
Views from our pre Hoppin’ John walk – a reminder of Scremerston’s mining history sandwiched between two views of Cocklawburn Beach. North Northumberland is a very delightful spot.
We were all knackered after our walk and by the time I turned to Meera Sodha’s take on all-American south dish Hoppin’ John, it was dark. Thing is, when a recipe says ‘1 1/2 tbsps Tabasco’, you start salivating and you can’t stop until you’ve scratched the itch. Hence, at about 7pm last Sunday I headed, torch in hand, down our garden, to snip cavolo nero off stalks that look as leggy as winter palms in the South of France. Meera uses spring greens but when you’ve grown something, you’re keen to use every last scrap. I didn’t have celery (and my daughters aren’t keen, anyway) so I threw in a couple of bay leaves for that earthier taste. I scraped all the shrivelling carrots, offcuts of fennel and onions off the floor of the fridge into a pan and brewed up some veg stock.
This is a seriously simple, biryani, pilau, paella type dish – perfect for a quick (ish) vegan supper. I didn’t have vegan mayonnaise in the cupboard. Those of us who worry about completism on the vegan front did not help ourselves to the bowl of Hellman’s and crushed garlic I provided.
We enjoyed Hoppin’ John so much that I made almost exactly the same meal again two nights’ later but, this time (sorry Meera and all vegans) with chicken.
We’re hoppin’ mad for Meera Sodha’s vegan Hoppin’ John in our fam
We’ve all become big red cabbage fans during lockdown – particularly in the form of Asian slaw. So, Ravinder Bhogal’s pineapple, kale and red cabbage salad was not just up our street, it was parked in our drive. We had a half cabbage in the fridge along with a bunch of coriander – and, of course, my cavolo nero from the garden instead of kale.
There’s something marvellously profligate about a recipe that has four ingredients for the main event and 13 for the dressing – bring it on! Weirdly, this very straightforward (apart, perhaps from the number of ingredients) recipe was my most eventful of the week.
First challenge: tricky allergic daughter can’t eat raw pineapple. I googled replacements for pineapple and, bingo!, apricots were an option (we had some going a bit depressed in the fruit bowl). ‘You can replace pineapple with apricot!’ I announced to my two daughters. They both looked stunned, glancing uncomfortably at me and The Husband. Then giggling. Turns out eating pineapple is supposed to make semen taste nicer. How do my daughters know such things? Not from me. Cut a long story short, I also had a rather unripe mango which proved perfect for the job! The salad, that is.
For the dressing, I only had crunchy peanut butter, so I whizzed it as smooth as I could in a blender. Makrut lime leaves are not something that feature in my cupboard. Hallelujah! for my friend’s homemade dried lime powder. A healthy spoonful of that gave the dressing a good citrus kick, so I’m calling it the perfect sub.
I also discovered that the bag of open peanuts I was finally going to knock on the head for Ravinder’s nutty garnish went out of date in June 2020. Hey-ho time to use them up. They were fine! My biggest error was misreading the recipe and putting a full 400ml can (should have been 200ml) of coconut milk into the pan for the dressing. Actually, it was fine although I’m sure it diluted the powerful kick of the dressing. It did mean that the whole sliced red chilli garnish worked well with its fierce pops of heat and flavour. On the upside, we are also still enjoying the dressing’s umami deliciousness on a range of meals.
Ravinder Bhogal’s salad is tasty, filling and, with all its umami flavour sensations, something you want to just keep eating – even with mango instead of pineapple!
Next time from Guardian Feast Issue No. 158: Rachel Roddy’s budini di riso fiorentini (little rice pudding tarts) and possibly either Thomasina Miers’ savoy cabbage and fennel sausage ‘lasagne’ (if I can get a savoy cabbage without going to the supermarket (it’s not supermarket week!) or Yotam Ottolenghi’s macaroni with yoghurt and spicy lamb. We shall see.
I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.
First up for my 2021 odyssey with Guardian Feast is Meerha Sodha’s apple pudding cake from Issue No.156 on Saturday 9 January.
My eldest daughter is allergic to raw apples (bloody awkward!) but is fine with cooked ones. That’s one of the reasons why apple cake is a big ‘yes!’ at our table – particularly as allergic daughter has been lockdowning here in Berwick with us. You’d actually need more than two hands to list the raw fruit and veg she’s allergic to. So, finding interesting, tasty recipes with the ingredients that send her for the anti-allergy pills cooked rather than raw is a bit of a mission.
An apple a day is cause to call the doctor for the awkward allergic daughter
I have a dog-eared page torn from The Guardian Weekend January 24 2004 with our absolute favourite apple cake recipe – I don’t even know whose recipe it is, the name’s not on the page and, try as I might, I can’t find the author in the online archives. The cake itself is crammed with eggs, butter and almonds as well as apples. I can’t count how many times I’ve cooked it. We love it.
And here is that scruffy page kept for so many years for the delicious apple cake.
Nigel Slater was writing for The Observer back then and I’ve found a link to the crossword from that issue of The Guardian, but the apple cake creator remains a mystery. I’m sure somebody out there might tell me eventually. I do know it must have been an outdoorsy Weekend as it has a pull quote at the top of the page which sounds very school marm-y:
There’s pudding too. Don’t abandon decent principles just because this is a picnic.
The Guardian Weekend January 24 2004
Picnic? In January! What kind of madness is this?
Come to think of it we did have a picnic on a walk in the foothills of the Cheviots earlier this month. Watched by wild Cheviot goats, we munched cheese and pickle sarnies and slabs of pork pie slathered in Coleman’s English mustard. We didn’t hang about – it was blooming chilly – we also didn’t think to take the cake – but enjoyed it when we got home.
January picnic with a view. No decent principles were employed in our picnic: Cheese and pickle sarnies and a slab of pork pie slathered in English mustard. We ate the cake at home!
Meera Sodha is, of course, ‘The new vegan’ in Feast and author of East. So, how will her apple pudding cake match up to our juicy treasured trusty friend from 2004? I enjoy vegan cakes but do find that they can sometimes feel a bit, shall we say ‘worthy’ or sometimes a bit dry. But, I love the look of Meera’s apple pudding cake and am desperate to try.
First off, I only have pears in the house and, you know, lockdown… pears, then, instead of the four granny smiths used in Meera’s recipe (allergic daughter can’t eat raw pears either). I chop one and a half conference pears into cubes to go in the cake mix and slice the other one and half to go on top. I don’t bother to peel any of them. We have almond milk in stock, and that’s what I use for the non-dairy, otherwise I stick to the recipe which is super-easy. It’s quite a sloppy load but I scrape it into the well-greased and lined tin and top it with my pear slices.
As the cake bakes, I message one of my Berwick vegan friends to let her know that I’ll drop off a slice for her later. She replies: ‘Ooh yes please!! I’ve actually saved that recipe to make one day’. Meera says to bake for 50-60 minutes – I go the full time and should maybe have left it a little bit more. Although perhaps it sinks a bit because pears are juicier than apples.
Who cares! The end result is absolutely delicious. A chewy almost caramelised crumb balanced with a moist, fruity interior. Delicious with a dollop of crème fraiche. Pear pudding cake’s a winner and a new favourite cake on our block – vegan or not. I mean, you could also use apples! You’ll find Meera’s original recipe here.
Harking back to my previous post and hymn to Delia Smith, I found myself making her rich bread and butter pudding two nights ago. One of our family aims for the past few years and specifically during lockdown has been to waste as little food as possible. What better vessel for the remains of a manky white sliced loaf stuck to the freezer ceiling (sourced from fab local waste food initiative Northern Soul Kitchen for bread sauce at Christmas), a rapidly firming slab of home-baked sourdough and tail ends of jars of home-made mincemeat than a rib-sticking, lip-smacking slab of Delia’s stodge sensation?
Coronary on a plate? Delia Smith’s rich bread and butter pudding in the making. All gone now. Sorry.
Next up: I want to create everything from Feast Issue No. 157 but settle for Ravinder Bhogal’s pineapple, kale and red cabbage salad, Meerha Sodha’s vegan Hoppin’ John and Tamal Ray’s sweet spot lemon crumble cookies.
I have gorged on GuardianWeekend food columns and supplements for many years. Devouring the words and recipes like a child allowed sweeties for the first time after a tooth extraction. So, what better way to distract myself, feed my family and hopefully entertain others than to attempt to cook one recipe from each edition of Feast in 2021, and share my experiences and results here.
The emphasis of recipes in the paper has shifted over time shimmying from solid British cookery towards an expansive worldview and broader dietary palette. I’ve embraced new names at the top of columns, salivated over different twists on the same ingredients, and wrestled to source ingredients never heard of – let alone seen – up here in the north east. I mourned the loss of Cook and became accustomed – grew to love – Feast.
I watched, delighted, as Stephen Smith cooked his way through Delia Smith’s Complete How to Cook. Dated it may be, but that book is my Bible! My eldest daughter replaced my disintegrated copy back in 2006. Her lovingly inscribed gift is now held together with Sellotape and the sticky spray of every recipe I’ve ever cooked from it. I worried when word perfect, acerbic Marina O’Loughlin moved on as resto critic supremo at Weekend. Groundlessly, of course. I have laughed, gasped and wept at Grace Dent’s brilliant restaurant reviews – her recent columns about lockdown, food and nursing her mum through palliative care are superb writing – evocative, funny, poignant.
My take on Rachel Roddy’s Gnocchi alla Romana from 2020
And my daughter’s version of Biang Biang noodles, created by Ixta Belfrage and shared in Feast by Yotam Ottolenghi also 2020
First up in my kitchen will be Meera Sodha’s apple pudding cake. Do join me to find out how Meera’s vegan cake recipe fared against my family’s fave apple cake (recipe from The Guardian Weekend of course – 2004!).
When I decided to create a meal in a book, I could hardly have hoped to put together a more lovely thing: art, food and fun all in a perfect package. ‘We don’t write recipes down’ has surpassed my expectations in so many ways. I know the whole team is proud and delighted with our little book. You can find out more about how the project originated here.
How good does Dewa’s cashew nut curry look? Cooked by Lex Lang.
We’ve had great success so far with selling copies of the book despite lockdown. I’m hoping we might entice more people to treat others or themselves with a gift of a copy for Christmas. It’s a great little present and you’ll be supporting a super charity with your purchase. Read on to find out more about the book, the charity – and the food!
Here’s Dewa at our launch of ‘We don’t write recipes down’ back in August at her pop-up curry night at The Mule On Rouge in Berwick
It’s a real delight to have sold over 200 copies so far and to pass on all profits and generous donations to our nominated Sri Lankan charity The Jasmine Foundation. The charity provides vital and life-changing education, training and support to women in rural communities in Sri Lanka. Jessica Mason, co-founder of the charity, says:
We are so grateful for the £600 we’ve just received from the ‘We don’t write recipes down’ project. We can achieve so much with this sum of money in empowering women. Thank you!’
I can’t tell you how exciting it is to support a brilliant charity. And, on top of that, to hear about people’s enjoyment of the book. We’ve been chuffed to receive photos and feedback from readers about the amazing food they’ve cooked from ‘We don’t write recipes down’. Pauline Beaumont who’s just published a book about the therapeutic benefits of baking bread: ‘Bread Therapy: The Mindful Art of Baking Bread’. cooked Dewa’s chicken curry and says:
Despite the absence of pandan leaves in my spice cupboard, Dewa’s curry was a great success. I’m so glad that Jackie did capture these recipes and write them down for us to enjoy.
And just look at this fabulous take on Dewa’s Watalappam Pud from @peapodboat on Instagram.
It would be marvellous to send even more money to support Sri Lankan women. Please do share about our meal in a book ‘We don’t write recipes down’ – it’s a fab little gift – Christmas or otherwise. You can buy it from me Jackie Kaines by contacting me at the ‘We don’t write recipes down’ Facebook page – or leave me a message here – locally from our hugely supportive friends at Geo. C Grieve, Lowick Village Store and The Mule on Rouge.
The ‘We don’t write recipes down’ team: Daniel Cox, Dewa Morton, Katie Chappell and Jackie Kaines
With thanks to Tim Anderson’s JapanEasy – an inspired and inspiring book for any aspiring cooker of Japanese food. One change to his recipe: I had some rapidly crisping spring onions in the bottom of the fridge and used those instead of leek. The minced pork filling still tasted wonderfully authentic. These little darlings are time-consuming rather than difficult and worth every second! Don’t forget to factor in chilling time for the pancake dough – or you’ll end up with a very late lunch like me! I love the crispy bottom/soft top from the fry/steam combo. My only mistake was not making more.
Border Lines 