While I'm sure I will look back at the blog in times to come and marvel at how well we ate during this strange period, the reality is that about 80 per cent of our time since March has been spent either cooking or washing up. (With another ten per cent reserved for feeding my bloody sourdough starter).
Mostly, it's been worth it. But as I stood in the heat of high summer, poised over a wok full of bubbling oil while desperately trying to stop my slices of aubergine disintegrating, I questioned my recipe choices. And when I then found that we didn't have any chilli oil (a constituent part of three quarters of the dishes I was cooking), the Ewing questioned my choices too. Although she still grabbed a mask and went out to the shops. Mostly to escape from me a a semi-hysterical state for a few minutes.
While it all sounds rather frantic, my mini meltdown belies how easy most of these dishes - from Fuchsia Dunlop's Every Grain of Rice - actually are. In fact, I rustled up four different plates of food, plus some rice, in about an hour after work and didn't end up divorced (despite my best efforts).
It's a great book as I have ever cooked from it has simultaneously been simple (although anything deep-fried remains my Achilles heel) yet terribly exotic. After you've stocked up on a few basic sauces and spices - then the majority of the dishes contain only a handful of ingredients and can be made within minutes. At if you are a chilli head, like me, you in luck as lots of the recipes contain a good dose of spice (and if they don't, I usually chuck in a dried chilli or two anyway...)
I tackled my nemesis, the fish fragrant aubergines, first. The dish contains precisely zero piscine elements but is so named for the sauce that draws on the seasonings used in Sichuanese fish cookery. Deep frying in a wok is not as traumatic as I always make out, and the advantage is you don't need much oil, although you do have to fry the aubergine in several batches. This is a dish that's also good cold, but make sure you drain the aubergine well before dressing, so it doesn't become too oily.
Fish fragrant aubergines
3 medium aubergines
Salt
Cooking oil, for deep-frying - about 400ml if you are using a round-bottomed wok
1 1/2 tbsp Sichuan pickled chilli paste (I used sambal oelek)
2tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp finely chopped ginger
1 tbsp finely chopped garlic
150ml chicken stock
2 tsp sugar
3/4 tsp potato flour (or cornflour) mixed with one tbsp cold water
2 tsp Chinkiang brown rice vinegar
4 tbsp finely sliced spring onion greens
Cut the aubergine lengthways into three thick slices, then cut these into evenly sized batons. Sprinkle them with salt, mix well and leave in a colander for at least 30 minutes to drain.
In a wok, heat the oil to 180˚C. Add the aubergine in batches and deep-fry for three to four minutes until slightly golden on the outside and soft and buttery within. Remove and drain on paper towels.
Drain the oil from the wok and rinse if necessary, then return it to a medium heat. When the wok is hot again, add 2 tbsp of oil. Add the chilli bean paste and stir-fry until the oil is red and fragrant, then add the ginger and garlic and continue to stir-fry for a minute or two.
Add the stock, vinegar and sugar and mix well. Season with salt to taste if necessary. Add the fried aubergine and the vinegar to the sauce. Stir the potato flour and water mixture, pour it over the aubergine and stir in gently to thicken the sauce. Tip into a serving dish and garnish with spring onions.
Next was one of my favourites, cold dressed chicken with a spicy Sichuanese sauce; which is very similar to another famous Sichuan cold chicken dish, 'mouth-watering' chicken. Sometimes known as the less successfully translated 'saliva' chicken. Here poached, or leftover roast, chicken is shredded and mixed with a simple spicy sauce before being garnished with sliced spring onion and sesame seeds.
Cold Chicken with a Spicy Sichuanese Sauce (Liang Ban Ji)
About 400g cold, cooked boneless chicken, shredded
3 spring onions
1/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp sesame seeds (optional)
For the Sauce
2 tablespoons light soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons Chinkiang (brown rice) vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
2 tbsp chilli oil
1/2 tsp ground Sichuan pepper
Cut or tear the chicken as evenly as possible into bite-sized strips or slivers and place them in a deep bowl. Cut the spring onions at a steep angle into thin slices. Mix them and the salt with the chicken.
Combine all the sauce ingredients in a small bowl.
When you are ready to eat, pour the sauce over the chicken, and mix well with chopsticks.
Arrange on a serving dish and sprinkle with sesame seeds, if desired.
The last cucumber that we harvested from the plant that was 'allowed' to grow in our living room - I was under the firm impression it was going out onto the patio once it started to bear fruit. But apparently it was more delicate than I am, and never actually made it - was celebrated by being turned into, the now ubiquitous, 'smacked' cucumber.
After gently bashing the whole cucumber with a rolling pin until it softens and splits (helping it soak up the dressing), chop diagonally into chunks, place in a colander with a tablespoon of salt and leave over the sink for 15 minutes to allow some of the excess water to drain away. Rinse any excess salt off the cucumber, dry briefly and place in to a bowl. then toss with chilli oil, brown rice vinegar, light soy sauce, a clove of crushed garlic (the recipe specifies three, so add more if you want a very garlicky hit, Perfect if you are working at home right now), a pinch of Sichuan peeper and a little caster sugar to taste. A very fitting ending for our final curcubit.
The dish I was most excited about was the stir-fried potato slivers with chilli and Sichuan pepper. The raw potato is shredded very finely before being stir-fried and served, as a revelation to most westerners, while it still has a slight bite. In Sichuan cuisine this is the most popular way of treating a tuber, and while I'd seen it several times on menus before, the predictable big hitters always got the nod over the humble spud.
While cutting the potatoes (homegrown, dug fresh from the allotment, natch) so finely was something of a labour of love, there was also something rather soothing about it. And the rest of the dish was a cinch to throw together - heat some oil in a wok, toss in dried chillies and Sichuan peppercorns, then add the spuds (I used four medium-sized waxy ones that I had sliced and then soaked in cold water to remove some of the starch) and stir fry until the potatoes have a slight bite. Season to taste and try to serve while hot. While juggling all your other dishes. Hopefully while still keeping your sanity.
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