Meringues with mango sauce and creme fraiche

Legend has it that a properly beaten bowl of egg whites will stay in the bowl if you lift it upside down over your head.  While I am completely confident that this recipe will impress even the most demanding of dinner guests -- or even just dining companions -- I have never tested this theory.  It's sort of like the idea that you test the doneness of spaghetti by throwing a strand against your wall.  Seems like a lot of risk for something that could be achieved by slightly less potentially messy methods.

This recipe was inspired by a trip to the Indian section of my local market.  Amid the ginger, cardamom and limes, I found some Alphonso mango puree.  This golden lusciousness, richly sweet liquid would be sauce enough for some gooey centered meringues.   To balance the dish, some creme fraiche would be needed, and a zesting of tropical scented lime.

The meringues need to be timed correctly so that they remain chewy and soft.  I like to make one large meringue per person, which should not take much more than 30 minutes, but it depends on whether your oven runs hot or cold.

So time the meringues right, dress them well -- beat your egg whites thoroughly -- and there will be no egg on your face...

Meringues with mango sauce and creme fraiche

4 egg whites

1 C. sugar

1 tsp. vanilla

Mango or other fruit sauce

Creme fraiche

Lime zest

Beat egg whites until they form soft peaks.  Beat in vanilla, then continue to beat, adding sugar 1 tablespoon at a time, until egg whites go glossy and stiff.  

Line a tray with baking parchment and drop meringue onto the sheet, sized according to your wish.

Bake at 350 for 30-45 minutes, depending on size.  For grapefruit size meringues, 45 minutes will still keep them gooey inside.  For tangerine size, even 30 minutes might be too much.

Paella

Cooking is a family affair, and although I don't live with my family, my mother still sends me recipes, my grandmother searches out quinoa or spelt when I recommend them, and even my father gets in on the game.  This particular recipe comes courtesy of a guest appearance by my mother, who cooked up a paella recipe that has been making the rounds of my family.  It looked so good when she brought it to the table that my father made her take a picture and send it to me to post here.

Paella is a perfect dish for a crowd (even of just two).  It's one of those recipes that -- if you're willing to break with tradition -- can be made with any number or combinations of vegetables, meat, and seafood.  Like risotto, the basic concept lends itself fantastically to whatever ingredients you might have on hand.  Seasonal vegetables, chicken, chorizo, shrimp -- they all mingle with the saffron and paprika in a melting pot of Spanish deliciousness.  With all these variations, there's something for everyone.

Paella

1-2 T. Olive oil

½ yellow onion, finely chopped

1 bell pepper, red, green, yellow or mixed half and half, cut into strips

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 bay leaves

½ tsp. smoked paprika

½ tsp. turmeric

¼ tsp. cayenne

¾ C. or 150g Paella rice

1/3 C. or 100ml sherry

1 tsp saffron strands

2 C. or 500ml boiling water or vegetable stock

Sea salt

12 mini plum tomatoes

4 small canned or frozen artichokes, thawed if frozen, quartered

10 pitted Kalamata olives

2 tbsp roughly chopped parsley

4 lemon wedges, to serve

 

Heat oil in a large frying pan (or a Paella pan), then saute the onion for five minutes. Add the peppers and cook over medium heat until soft. Add the garlic, cook for a minute, then add the spices, cook for a minute, then add the rice and cook, stirring, for another two minutes.

Add the sherry and saffron, boil down for a minute, then add the stock, the bay leaves, and a third of a teaspoon of salt. Reduce the heat to low and leave to simmer for 20 minutes, or until most of the liquid has been absorbed.

Remove the pan from the heat. Scatter the tomatoes, artichokes and olives over the rice, cover the pan and leave to rest for 10 minutes.  Taste and adjust seasonings, then sprinkle with parsley and serve with lemon wedges.

Serves 2 very generously, or serves 2 for dinner plus lunch for one lucky person the next day.

Butter bean, Brussels sprouts and potato soup

Maybe because my family didn't like Brussels sprouts, I never had them growing up.  The first time I had one was at a nice restaurant, in my mid-20s, and it was cooked to perfection.   Therefore I missed the revulsion that many people developed for the grayish-green, stinky, mushy sprouts of their childhood, and leapt straight into sprout love.

For a while, we were getting a vegetable box from a local farm that would send sprouts on the stalk.  If you've never seen sprouts on the stalk, only loose in the market, I suggest you search one out.  They are truly amazing.  Each stalk carries a true abundance of sprouts, so for a few months we had sprouts sprouting all over the place.  Luckily, I like them, and I converted my dining partner pretty quickly.  It may have helped that you can wave the sprout stalks around while saying things like "Luke, I am your father."

Sprouts are part of the brassica family, and like their distant relatives broccoli and cabbage, benefit from quick cooking to bring out their natural sweetness.   The problem with sprouts is that their leaves are so tightly packed that boiling tends to overcook the outside without touching the inside.  Fortunately, I got a tip from a TV appearance by Heston Blumenthal.  I trust the science geek chef implicitly in matters such as these, so when he said that the microwave, which cooks things from the inside out, was perfect for the tightly-wound sprouts.  As usual, he was right.  Microwaving Brussels sprouts for a few minutes, then drizzling a balsamic or mustard dressing over the top while warm, is a dish that would convert even the most entrenched sprout-hater.

Butter bean, Brussels sprouts and potato soup

1 medium onion, chopped

1 clove garlic, minced

1 C. butter beans, cooked from scratch, plus cooking liquid

1 medium potato, cubed (approx. 1 C.)

1 C. sliced Brussels sprouts

Vegetable stock to make up liquid volume (depending on how much bean cooking liquid there is)

Salt and pepper to taste

Saute onion until soft, then add garlic and cook for a few minutes.  Add potato, cooking liquid from beans, enough vegetable stock to make up about 4 cups of liquid, and simmer until potatoes are soft.

Add butter beans, then stir in Brussels sprouts and cook just a few minutes, until they turn bright green with no hint of them going to the dark side.

Serves 2

French onion and roast vegetable soup

So I had made my three-minute Spelt bread and had resisted the temptation to eat the entire loaf, warm out of the oven.  I thought that I would instead try to incorporate it into something slightly more substantial and meal-like.  I had some yummy, smooth and nutty tasting Doddington cheese purchased from Neal's Yard Dairy and I could just taste it melted on the bread.  A French onion soup would be perfect.  But I also happened to have some leftover roasted vegetables -- unusual since I tend to eat every last morsel of roasted roots whenever I make them.  ("Just a few carrots and potatoes?  That's not really enough to save.  Better finish them off now.")  There it was: a French-onion-style soup, with leftover roasted vegetables and melted cheese on toast.  Lunch, turned up to 11.

I did bring my second portion of soup to work the next day, sadly sans pain au fromage chaud.  It was still pretty good, but lacked that Je ne sais quoi.  I guess melted cheese really does make everything better.  Tant pis!

French onion and roast vegetable soup

Assortment roasted root vegetables (carrot, parsnip, celeriac, potato, etc), cut into 1 inch cubes

2 Roasted garlic cloves, or 1 large raw clove, minced

One large onion, thinly sliced

1 T. flour

4 C. vegetable broth

1 T. soy sauce

For each serving:

1 slice toasted Spelt bread with melted cheese

Saute onion in sauce pan over low heat until soft, golden and sweet (about 20-30 minutes).

Either add in minced garlic, or squeeze in the roasted cloves and mash with the spoon.  Stir flour through onion and garlic and cook for a few minutes, then add vegetable broth and heat until slightly thickened.  Add soy sauce (optional, but I like the extra flavor).

Melt cheese onto bread, then float in the soup.

Serves 2

Speedy, seedy spelt bread

Bread may be my kryponite, my Achilles heel, my Watergate.  When faced with a warm loaf, my willpower blows away like the chaff from the wheat.  Bread recipes are the same.  Almost as good as tasting the bread, is reading about making it.  At least I try to rationalize the baking, so if I've spent the time mixing, kneading, and rising the loaf, then at least I've earned my daily bread.  

And so I obsess about different grains.  White, whole wheat, rye, buckwheat -- flours by the dozen.   A bag of spelt flour I had knocking around finally inspired me this morning and I decided I needed to use it.  I can't take credit for originating this recipe, which came from the Telegraph (found online -- not a regular reader) but I will certainly be using it again.

The article promises a gorgeous, seeded loaf with no kneading and no rising time.  Bread in 3 minutes sounds too good to be true.  But it isn't.  It's very good, and very true.  I guess I'll have to find another rationalization.

1 lb 2 oz/500g spelt flour

2 sachets/10g fast acting yeast

1/2 tsp salt

2 oz/50g sunflower seeds

2 oz/50g linseeds

2 oz/50g sesame seeds

17 oz/500 ml warm water

Pre-heat oven to 200c/400f.

Mix all dry ingredients, then add water and mix well.  Shape dough into an oiled loaf pan and bake for about an hour.  (Or let the bread rise overnight in a cool place for a slightly lighter result.) Remove loaf, take out of pan, and put it back in the oven for another 5-10 minutes.

Lemon squares

It's about this time of year that it seems like we somehow stumbled through the wardrobe into the eternal Narnian winter, with no hope of anything but cold and darkness for the rest of our days.  We've just about used up our supply of optimism, rotated through all of our sweaters, worn out our hats, lost a few gloves, and gotten thoroughly bored of our so-called cozy winter evenings.   In our discontent of winter, what better than some little squares of sweet, lemony sunshine, full of the promise of the coming spring?

I was in the mood for something with lemons, wavering between a lemon pudding cake, a lemon tart, or maybe a lemon icebox pie.  I finally decided that a batch of lemon squares would do the trick.   They couldn't be easier: simple shortbread base, an intensely lemony topping, and a good dusting of powdered sugar to finish.  I like to spice up the shortbread with some finely chopped crystallized ginger, the exact amount depending on how gingerly I feel like treading.

 

These can be kept but are best eaten on the same day.  If an entire pan sounds a bit much, just get a few hungry friends (or one large boyfriend) around, leave them in the middle of the table, and I have never found it to be a problem.  Everyone will be much happier afterwards.

Short crust base:

1/2 C/1 stick/113 g unsalted butter

1/4 C powdered sugar

1 C pastry flour

1-2 T. crystallized ginger

1/8 tsp salt

Lemon topping:

4 large eggs

1 1/2 C granulated sugar

3/4 C fresh lemon juice

zest of 2 lemons

1/3 C all-purpose flour

3 Tbsp powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F and butter an 8 x 8 inch pan.

For crust: Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy.  Add the flour and salt and beat until the dough just comes together. Press into the bottom of your greased pan and bake for about 20 minutes, or until lightly browned.

Filling: In a bowl whisk together eggs and granulated sugar until combined well and stir in lemon juice and flour. Pour lemon mixture over hot crust. Reduce oven temperature to 300°F. and bake until set, about 30 minutes. Cool completely in pan and cut into squares. Sift powdered sugar over bars before serving.

Makes 16 squares

Lentil soup

Monday was a snow day in London.  We woke up to a great, whopping, six inches of snow, which paralyzed one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world.  Yes, we are wimps.  Living in the northeast for years, regularly getting storms that drop several feet of snow, I never once got to miss classes or work.  A few inches of powder here?  The entire city ground to a halt.

Forced to stay home, make snow men and snow angels, naturally I also had to cook up a good and warming lunch.  What better than soup?  Specifically a hearty, flavorful, meat on the cold bones kind of soup.  Lentils and potatoes did the trick, and the best part was, for once, I got to take a nice photo in natural light.  Working long days means it's dark when I leave in the morning and dark when I get home at night, so my poor dishes languish under unflattering energy saving lightbulbs (as do we all).  The beautiful, diffuse light in the snow made my soup look even better here than it did in person.

And why did it take me 5 days to upload this post?  One of the laws of nature: shorter weeks always seem longer and busier than normal ones.

Lentil soup:

1 medium onion or 1 large leek, chopped

1 fat garlic clove, minced

1 large carrot, chopped

1 C. brown lentils

2 medium potatoes (peeled or unpeeled), cut into 1 inch cubes

1 can chopped tomatoes

4-6 C. water or vegetable stock

2 C. broccoli cut into florets, or other greens (kale, savoy cabbage, spinach)

Saute the onion and carrot until they begin to soften.  Add the garlic and cook for another minute or two.

Add the lentils, potatoes, tomatoes, and water, and let simmer for about 25 minutes until the lentils are soft and potatoes are cooked through.  Stir in broccoli and cook only a few minutes, until the florets soften but remain bright green.

Serves 4