week 35 - Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat - Samin Nosrat

One of the things I was most looking forward to about #cookbookchallenge was creating fancy confections with involved instructions, precise weighing and measuring and the kind of accuracy that normally I have no time for when rustling up dinner. In my mind I imagined embarking on Bake Off-style technical challenges and Food Network-style multi-tiered cakes that resemble anything that isn't actually a cake. But in reality I'm just not patient enough to be a master baker. 

I mean, in a plot twist I could announce that this pie was actually a cake that looked like a pie, but it was definitely a pie. Made from pastry weighed and measured and rolled out by my own hot little hands. And, although it's pretty rustic, I'm also pretty proud of it.

The recipe comes from Samin Nosrat's cult Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, which also gave us the lockdown hit recipe of the summer; buttermilk brined chicken - I use use semi-skimmed milk with a tablespoon of white vinegar or lemon juice - which sounds like a faff but is actually dead easy if you remember to do it the night before (or even the same morning) and gives the chicken the most incredible bronzed carapace and tender flesh.

Anyway, back to my pie. As well as pastry you need a filling, and what is more classic than good old apple. Our apples were from the allotment, picked by the Ewing's fair hand. For a pie, I think you need an eater (so it doesn't disintegrate too much when baked). Something tart with a bit of crunch is perfect. Good old granny Smiths work, as do Braeburns or a Pink Lady.

I also added a handful of blackberries, as they are were also growing rampant at the allotment when we went to pick the apples. Although I think these are some sort of hybrid - maybe a loganberry? - as they are twice the size of the wild blackberries in our front garden.

And now to the pastry; my bête noire, Although, in all honesty, if I can make decent pastry it must be pretty simple. The key things seem to be get everything cold before you start; don't over-mix - you don't want gluten development as the pastry will be tough, a little vinegar also helps with this - don't add to much water to the dough; and allow the dough to rest before rolling it out. Seeing chunks of butter in the dough is also good, as the water in the butter creates stream when you put the pie in the oven, which expands into little air pockets and creates lovely crisp layers.

While the recipe included instructions to freeze the mixer bowl and the processor blades, as well as the flour and butter chunks, and then to freeze the whole pie again before baking, I skipped all that. You'd be pushed to fit get another pea in our freezer, and it all turned out fine. 

Classic Apple (and Blackberry) Pie with All Butter Pie Dough

300g plain flour

220g butter, cut into chunks - fridge cold or put in the freezer 30 minutes before you start

1 pinch salt

1 tsp cider vinegar

1 tbsp caster sugar

1/2 cup iced water

7 medium eating apples, peeled cored and sliced

handful blackberries, washed and dried

half a lemon

2 tbsp light brown sugar

1/4 tsp ground allspice

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

2 tbsp double cream (or one egg, beaten)

1 tbsp demerara sugar

Add salt and sugar to the flour, add to the bowl of a food processor. Add butter, a few chunks at a time, and pulse until the butter is in pea-sized pieces.

Add the vinegar and then slowly add the water, pulsing until the mixture just comes together, you might not need it all.

Tip the dough onto a large piece of cling film and bring the sides of the cling film up, squeezing together gently, to shape the dough into ball. Cut the dough into half and flatten each half into a disc. Re-wrap each disc in cling film and place the dough in the fridge, preferably overnight but for at least an hour, to rest.

When you are ready to make the pie, preheat the oven, and a metal baking sheet at 220 C

Place the apples, berries, lemon juice, brown sugar, cinnamon and allspice in a bowl and stir carefully to mix.

Flour a surface and a rolling pin. Unwrap one disc of dough. Roll dough to about the thickness of a pound coin. Use this to line a pie tin – 20-22cm round and 4cm deep – leaving a slight overhang. 

Roll out the second disc to about the same thickness, ready to lay on top of the filling.

Tip the fruit mixture into the pie dish, leaving behind any liquid, which may make the base soggy. Brush a little water around the pastry rim and lay the pastry lid over the apples. Crimp edges or press down with a fork to seal.

Brush the pastry with the cream or beaten egg, and sprinkle over the sugar.

Place the pie on the baking sheet and cook for 15 minutes

Turn the oven down to 200c and cook for another -15/20 minutes

Turn the oven down again to 180c for another 30 - 40 mins (cover the top with foil if it is becoming too brown)

Allow to stand for half an hour before cutting (the most difficult part of the whole recipe) and serve warm or cold with lots of double cream.

week 32 Delia's Summer Collection - Delia Smith

'Delia's tarragon chicken' always reminds me of my family. It was a family favourite when I growing up and my Mum and Sister still mention it when we talk about what we are going to have for dinner in the group chat. Its a timeless recipe that seems as equally at home as a mid-week supper or at a fancy dinner party (my sister cooked it at one of her first proper 'weekends away' with her friends. Before everyone got blotto and ended up, fully clothed, in the swimming pool....)

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The recipe features in Delia's Summer Collection and is her take on the French classic poulet au vinaigre. Released the summer I was 12, the Summer Collection is still up there in my top ten cookery books as it introduced me to exotic recipes such as halloumi with capers and lime; and Piedmont peppers (via Elizabeth David); and, in the vegetarian chapter, pasta puttanesca (which Delia describes as 'tart's pasta and advises 'if your'e a strict vegetarian replace the anchovies with another spoonful of capers'). Suddenly the world turned from a murky beige to glorious technicolor.

When I was younger I remember being very vocal that, when I grew up and  had the wherewithal make tarragon chicken for myself, I certainly wouldn't restrict myself to three measly shallots per serving. Then I grew up and realised you had to go and find the shallots, and buy them, and - and this is the real kicker - peel them all individually. And, while I did add as many to the pan, through watering eyes, as I could could be bothered to prepare, with the benefit of hindsight I fully endorse my mother for sticking to the recipe. Sorry Mum for doubting your wisdom.

Another thing that I didn't appreciate as a youngster was the price of sherry. On this occasion I used Marsala, as a substitute for (near enough a pint of) Amontillado, as that's what I had in the cupboard. But if you are economising, or don't have a bottle of sherry knocking around, or want to whip this up for a quick mid-week dinner (and you should, because it;'s wonderful) then you can use white wine or, I think even better, a can of dry cider. Switch up to cider vinegar if you want to carry on the apple theme. 

Delia's Tarragon Chicken

1 chicken, jointed into 8 pieces, or 8 bone-in thighs

150 ml sherry vinegar

2 tbsp fresh tarragon leaves, plus extra to garnish

2 tbsp olive oil

12 shallots, peeled and left whole

4 cloves garlic, peeled and left whole

400 ml Amontillado sherry, Marsala, dry cider or white wine

2 tbsp crème fraîche

salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a large frying pan and season the chicken.

When the oil begins to shimmer, fry the chicken -in two batches, if needed - until brown. Place the browned chicken on a plate.

Add the shallots to the pan, brown these a little, and finally add the garlic cloves to colour slightly. Turn the heat down, return the chicken pieces to the pan, scatter the tarragon leaves all over, then pour in the vinegar and sherry. Bring to a simmer simmer, then turn the heat to a very low setting, so that the whole thing barely bubbles, for 45 minutes.

Halfway through, turn the chicken pieces over in the sauce. When they're ready, remove them to a warm serving dish (right side up) along with the shallots and garlic. 

The sauce will by now have reduced and concentrated. Whisk the crème fraîche into it, taste it and season as required, then pour the sauce all over the chicken and scatter with the sprigs of tarragon.

Saint Delia recommends serving with new potatoes and peas. So I did. The former being straight out the ground at the allotment. The latter were straight out the freezer. Glass of rose with an ice cube optional but very delicious. Cheers to my lovely family, this one's for you.

week 28 - Jamie's Italian - Jamie Oliver

While it's easy to focus on the all things we had to stop doing, it's also nice to experience some 'firsts' as lockdown has eased. First draft pint beer; first brunch out; first train journey; first time back in the office (who thought that would ever be welcomed). And, best of all, first time seeing family since Christmas; when my aunt, uncle and cousin came down South for a stay.

In a bittersweet twist, it also coincided with the dates when my sister and family were supposed to be visiting from Oz. But while they couldn't be here, we could at least toast them with a couple of bottles of wine from the vineyard she and my brother-in-law got married in - just outside Sienna - one of which has been under the stairs for the last eight years. Stowed away we managed to get it home intact in our suitcase after celebrating the big day.

To go with the wine I wanted some big Tuscan flavours, and peposo, or hunters stew, made with huge amounts of fresh black pepper and more wine, While took the recipe from Jamie's Italian, a book I first remember first getting when I worked as a bookseller, many moons ago, and living with a vegetarian. Needless to say I never made this, although the recipe I always really wanted to make was the turkey tetrazzini - a kind of retro pasta bake made with spaghetti in a creamy mushroom sauce - perhaps one for next time.

As well as the black pepper the beef stew is bolstered by garlic; which coincided with the first main crop harvest from the allotment. And we also welcome bit of sunshine that allowed the Ewing to finally dry it out on the patio. 

The rest of the supporting cast was made up of herbs - bay and rosemary, both from the front garden - a tin of tomatoes (absent in Jamie's recipe but, I think, a welcome addition) and a while bottle of decent (ish) red wine. Italian of course.

Of course, the beef is the real star of the show. Jamie uses slices of bone in shin, but I went with beef ribs. I think bones always add an extra unctousness when making slow cooked stews, but I also found recipes when I was researching that used boneless chunks of chuck, flank or neck. Just make sure it's not too lean.

The execution could not have been simpler. Everything in the pot, and then into the oven to slow cook until the meat falls from the bone and the gravy is rich and glossy. I didn't even brown the meat. Like most stews, this is better the day after. Which also means you can just put it back on the hob to reheat, giving you more time to sit and drink wine with your guests. 

Peposo - Tuscan beef and black pepper stew

Adapted from Jamie's Italy

2kg beef on the bone (ribs, or shin) 

1 bulb of garlic, unpeeled and broken into cloves

1 tbsp whole peppercorns

1 tsp sea salt

a good grinding of coarsely ground black pepper

one bottle of red wine, preferably Italian, nothing too fancy

3 bay leaves

a couple of sprigs of fresh rosemary

1 tin chopped tomatoes

Pre-heat the oven to 150c

Place the ribs in a large pot, add all the remaining ingredients, making sure the meat is covered. Put the lid on and place in the oven for about three hours, stirring every half an hour or so, or until the meat is falling from the bones.

Take the meat from the pot and leave to cool.

If the gravy is looking thin, place the pot on the hob and reduce until thickened.

When the meat is cool enough to handle, shred from the bones, removing any pieces of fat or cartilage.

Add the meat back to the thickened gravy.

Best reheated the next day and served with cannelini beans, polenta, mash or crusty bread. Good wine and great company.

week 26 - Kitchen Diaries II - Nigel Slater

The English summer is now in full flow (as I write this while sitting under a blanket) and so we've been spending even more time arguing down at the allotment after work. Thankfully the soft fruits are hitting their peak, and so now the Ewing gets some peace to do 'proper' jobs while I'm distracted, like a sticky fingered-child, by picking said soft fruits. Of which approximately half make it into plastic takeaway containers to take home.

There are blackcurrants, whose leaves I recently plundered for my panna cotta; and gooseberries; and tiny golden raspberries alongside their bigger red cousins. But best of all are the jostaberries - a black currant and gooseberry hybrid - which have been rampantly growing since the Ewing got the allotment and planted them for me, knowing they were two of my favourite fruits. Thank you darling. (Oh, that's ok - TE).

Like many fruits, they also go perfectly with almonds. Originally I wanted to make a bakewell tart and replace the raspberries with jostaberries, but, leafing through the often overlooked second volume of Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries, I realised they would make a great addition to his frangipane and fruit-filled almond tart.

Additionally, as well as tasting great, jostaberries lack the vicious thorns of a gooseberry bush and are bigger than blackcurrants, making them very easy and much more satisfying to pick. Even someone with no patience, like me, can fill a tub (and their face) in no time at all.

I keep thinking the leftover berries would make a great flavoured vodka, or gin, but I never seem to have enough leftover to try it. Maybe this year....

Although I have given the frangipane recipe from Nige's book below, I have to confess I used leftover frangipane that the Ewing had frozen after making rhubarb danishes for me way back in March. Which we unearthed after doing one of our 'can't fit anything in the freezer' clear outs, which were supposed to have become less frequent during lock down but still happen with a predictable regularity. 

It turns out that frangipane freezes remarkably well, and I can also heartily recommend adding a slug of Grand Marnier and a dash of almond extract, if you have it.

My hot hands, combined with all the careful measuring that baking involves, make pastry a bit chore but I followed the recipe for the shortcrust faithfully (even though my tin was a little larger than the one specified) and it was glorious. Short, buttery and no hint of a soggy bottom. While I made it (honest), the Ewing was roped in to roll it out and line the tin. Thank you darling. 

Jostaberry and almond frangipane tart

Adapted from the Kitchen Diaries II

Pastry

200g flour 

100g butter

1 egg yolk 

Ice cold water 

Frangipane

100g butter 

125g caster sugar 

2 eggs

125g ground almonds 

60g plain flour

Good splash of Grand Marnier (optional)

1 tsp almond essence (optional)

Large handful of jostaberries or blackcurrants

small handful of untoasted slivered or flaked almonds

Icing sugar to dust (optional)

You will also need:

a round 22cm loose-bottomed tart tin at least 3.5cm deep

beans for baking blind

Put the flour and butter, cut into small pieces, into the bowl of a food processor. Add a pinch of salt and blitz to fine breadcrumbs. Add the egg yolk and enough water to bring the dough to a firm ball. The less you add the better, as too much will cause your pastry case to shrink in the oven.

Put the pastry in the fridge to rest for at least 30 mins and up to 24 hours.

Heat the oven to 200C. Put a baking sheet in the oven to warm. 

Pat the pastry into a flat round on a floured surface, then roll out large enough to line the tart tin. Lightly butter the tin, dust it with a small amount of flour, shake off any surplus then lower in the round of pastry. Push the dough right into the corner where the rim joins the base without stretching the pastry. Make certain there are no holes or tears. Trim the overhanging pastry.

Line the pastry case with kitchen foil or baking parchment and baking beans and slide on to the hot baking sheet. Bake for 20 minutes, then remove from the oven and carefully lift the beans out. Return the pastry case to the oven for 5 minutes or so, until the surface is dry to the touch. Remove from the oven and set aside. 

Turn the oven down to 160C, and return the baking sheet to the oven.

To make the filling, using a food mixer cream the butter and sugar together till pale and fluffy. Lower the speed, then mix in the eggs and then slowly fold in the ground almonds and flour. Spoon the almond filling into the cooked pastry case, smoothing it lightly with the back of the spoon.

Scatter the fruit on top of the almond filling and sprinkle almonds in the gaps. 

Slide the tart on to the hot baking sheet and bake for 40 minutes till the filling is well risen and golden brown. 

Remove the tart from the oven, dust with icing sugar if you'd like, and allow to cool slightly before serving. Preferably with double cream.

week 20 - Gather Cook Feast

Back in a dark, gloomy January, when we could still go to the pub, hug people and watch Final Score on a Saturday, one of the very first things I set my sights on making for #cookbookchallenge was blackcurrant leaf panna cotta. Propped up in bed, browsing through a giant stack of cookbooks, this unusual twist on a classic immediately leapt out. 

Buoyed by the fact the Ewing confirmed there were blackcurrant bushes at the allotment, I excitedly began planning what type of cream to use and which gelatin would work best for the perfect wobble.

Of course, in my excited fervour, I had neglected to consider that there wasn't a bud on any branch yet, let alone the handfuls of big, green leaves that are needed to infuse the dairy, giving the delicate dessert its gently perfumed flavour. And, furthermore, they wouldn't be ready until the end of May, just before the bushes start to fruit and the leaves lose some of that flavour as the plant puts all it's energy into the intense dark purple berries.

Not known for my patience, I waited, and waited, and waited some more. Inspecting the progress every time I visited the allotment; rubbing the leaves gently between my fingers (try it next time your near a blackcurrant bush. Or fig tree, whose leaves can also be used to flavour panna cotta or ice cream); and checking how many were on each plant, lest I stripped them bare.

Finally, they were ready. Of course, by this point the idea of artisan cream and different setting agents had been replaced by queuing up to get into the corner shop in the hope they would still have some milk, but I did successfully manage to get gelatin and vanilla paste (which has all the lovely speckles in it that are missing from extract) plus cream and fresh raspberries.

Alongside I also made rye flour shortbread, which was inspired by the recipe on the back of a bag of rye flour delivered by Dove Farm. Made from rye flour, butter, sugar and ground almonds. I would highly recommend it as an accompaniment, or just to scoff warm from the oven with a cup of strong coffee. If you haven't got a bag of the specific flour in question to consult, you can find the recipe on their website.

Blackcurrant Leaf Panna Cotta

Serves 2

225 ml double cream

50 ml whole milk

handful of blackcurrant leaves (around 15/20) 

1 tsp vanilla bean paste or extract

25 g of caster sugar

1 1/2 leaves Dr Oetker gelatine

serve with

Fresh fruit (I used raspberries)

Shortbread fingers or crunchy biscuits of your choice

Wash and dry the blackcurrant leaves.

Place the cream, milk, blackcurrant leaves and vanilla in a lidded box and place in the fridge overnight to infuse.

The next day, tip the cream mixture and sugar into a pan and bring to a simmer. Remove the vanilla pod and discard.

Bloom the gelatine leaves in a little cold water until soft.

Squeeze the water out of the gelatine leaves, then add to the pan and take off the heat. Stir until the gelatine has dissolved.

Divide the mixture among two ramekins and leave to cool. Place into the fridge for at least four hours, preferably overnight, until set.

To serve, run a knife around the edge of each panna cotta, dip each mould into hot water for five seconds and then turn out onto a serving plate. 

Garnish and serve immediately. 

Week 2 - River Cottage - Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

After finding some elusive new season scrag end of lamb (the old-fashioned cuts have the most romantic names) on the butcher’s counter in Waitrose I knew I had to make Ivan’s neck of lamb with lemon and thyme. A recipe that was originally published in the first River Cottage book, this was later adapted by Hugh F-W to include barley and kale, which is the version I have gone with here. Partly because I absolutely adore pearl barley with lamb and partly as the Ewing had just discovered a clump of kale that has escaped the interest of the rabbits on the allotment.

Growing up my mum’s lamb stew with barley, carrots, swede and suet dumplings was the one dinner the whole family always agreed on. There is something of Proust’s madeleines when I think back to days of getting home from school and eating a big bowlful while sitting around the fire watching Neighbours. Before fighting with my sister over who would get the last dumpling (me, of course).

I love lamb neck and lemons, and thyme, and barley and kale, I did worry slightly that it wouldn’t quite live up to my Mum’s lamb stew. But, worry not; while it was a simpler affair (the original recipe has just five ingredients) it was still a big, sticky hug in a bowl. The lemons brought a pleasing astringency to the fatty lamb, cooked long and slow until the meat divested itself from the bone. Proper, old-fashioned cooking that gets the maximum flavour from the fewest ingredients.

Lamb neck with lemon, barley and kale

serves 4

1kg scrag end or neck of lamb on the bone, cut into slices (I couldn’t find enough neck on the butcher’s counter, so I also added some lamb neck fillet, cut into big chunks)

1 tbsp of vegetable oil

Juice of 1½ lemons

4–8 sprigs of thyme

Water or lamb stock to cover

A big handful (200g-ish) of pearl barley or pearled spelt

A handful of, kale, shredded savoy cabbage or spring greens, roughly chopped, tough stems removed, per person

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Season the lamb with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-based flameproof casserole, add the lamb and allow it to brown (you may have to do this in batches), turning until it is lightly browned all over. Tip out any excess oil, add the browned lamb, lemon juice, thyme and some salt and pepper, then enough water or stock to barely cover the ingredients.

Bring to a gentle simmer, cover and put in an oven preheated to 140°C. Cook for an hour and a half, then add the pearl barley or spelt, check the liquid, adding more if needed (the pearl barley / spelt will swell up as it cooks) and cook for a further hour or until it is nearly tender and the lamb is falling from the bone.

Remove the casserole from the oven. If you want to serve it straight away put the pan on the hob, skimming any extra fat from the top if there seems like a lot, and bring to a simmer. Add the greens and simmer for a couple of minutes, until they are just cooked through. You could also steam the greens separately, or any other veg of your choice, and serve alongside the stew.

If you want to make in advance, as I did, to allow the flavours to improve, then cool the stew once it is cooked and chill in the fridge overnight. The next day reheat thoroughly (removing any fat on top beforehand, if you wish) and cook the veg as above.