Spring super salad

Following on from my rhapsody about salad dressing, I now have a beautiful beaker full of golden olive oil, velvety balsamic vinegar, nubbly whole-grain mustard, and a sprig of rosemary floating jauntily therein (ok, looking slightly bedraggled and drowned, but keeping up its spirits nonetheless).  I need to find a salad to test it out.

Some people speak of salads with a denigrating tone, talking about rabbit food, or using it to describe someone who is constantly dieting and doesn't enjoy food.  Au contraire, I say.  A salad can be light -- a few peppery leaves of arugula, some sliced roasted beets, and a shaving or two of aged pecorino -- or a full-on meal.  I'm sure you know where I'm going with this.

For me, a salad is the perfect excuse to throw everything I have into the bowl.  It's the contrast in textures and flavors that make for an interesting, not to mention filling, lunch or dinner.  If I have a salad for lunch, it needs to take me through the 4:00pm cake-hunger, gym after work, and home with enough fuel so I don't chew my arm off on the train.  This means lots of vegetables, chicken, beans or tuna (or more than one!), some nuts or seeds perhaps, and maybe some home-made bread crumbs or a new potato if the vegetable box brings them.  As usual, the French did it right.  I take my inspiration from the perfect salade nicoise.  Bon appetit!

Spring super salad:

2 tomatoes, sliced

1 large carrot, halved lengthwise and sliced

1 yellow bell pepper, chopped

A few small potatoes, boiled and cut into bite-size chunks

1/2 can canellini beans

1 small can oil-packed tuna

Handful (1/4 cup?) pumpkin seeds (toasted if you're feeling ambitious)

A small head of tender lettuce, or some large leaves of a bigger, more robust head

Balsamic vinegar dressing, or other of your choice

If you need to make salad dressing, mix enough for two portions in the bottom of a large bowl (say, 2 tsp olive oil, 1/2 tsp. vinegar, 1/2 tsp. mustard).  

Into the bowl, add tomato, carrot, bell pepper, potatoes and beans and mix in the salad dressing (adding pre-made if using that).  Stir through the chunks of tuna, then mix in the lettuce leaves.  Sprinkle the pumpkin seeds over the top.

Serves 2.

Favorite salad dressing

With spring come the first tender greens and weather warm enough that we want to eat something cool for lunch or dinner.  Yes, these are our salad days.  Bowls of color, crisp and vital, bursting with life and the promise of new things to come.  As much as I want to dive in, first -- in the words of Julie Andrews as Maria -- we must start at the very beginning: salad dressing.

I know that many people might think of dressing as something that goes on last, as an afterthought, or something to gild the lily.  How very, very wrong they are.  Dressing, as everyone knows, is the fundamental tie that binds the salad together.  One can wear a nice suit, but it's the shoes and jewelry that make the outfit.

A few years ago I had to participate in one of those silly introduction games like we used to play at summer camp, only this was about 15 years too late to be fun.  There was a slightly unusual twist that probably would not have gone down well with the pre-teen set: this game was "If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a ___".  We went around the room, most people saying mundane things like "I would be a bed because I like to sleep" (I can't remember mine -- I must have even bored myself).  However, one person said, "If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a wardrobe."  I knew exactly what he meant.

On these lines, the true salad connoisseur knows that however important the separate ingredients, they are nothing without the dressing.  

Favorite salad dressing:

1 C. olive oil

1/4 C. balsamic vinegar

1 T. whole grain mustard

1 clove garlic, bruised

Fresh herbs if desired (either a sprig of rosemary to marinate in the dressing, or chopped parsley, basil or tarragon to throw in at the last minute)

Exact quantity of vinegar should be adjusted depending on how strong it is.

Black bean soup

Living in London, there are many things I miss about home. These include (but are not limited to) driving on the right, having a single tap for hot and cold water, not getting into awkward conversations about different definitions of the word "pants"... There are many gripes I could list (and, occasionally, do), but I generally manage to resist the urge, remembering that I live in a city that's an hour on the plane from most of Europe, has free entry to museums that hold much of the greatest art ever created, and is the birth-place of many culinary delights such as fish & chips and spotted dick. However, the one thing I have never gotten over is the severe lack of Mexican food. We have fantastic Indian food, a great selection of all the varieties of Chinese, wonderful Argentinian, Bolivian, and Colombian restaurants, but no, and I mean NO, burritos. I have seriously considered buying some super carnitas burritos when visiting home in CA, deep-freezing them, and bringing them wrapped in ice on the plane. Unfortunately, I have a suspicion that this may go contrary to most customs regulations.

We did have one stroke of luck when Wahaca opened in the last year or so. It is a great restaurant serving very tasty and mostly authentic Mexican food. I have to say that the burritos are just not the same -- they don't come wrapped in foil, which automatically disqualifies them in my book -- but they do some mean quesadillas and an amazing pork pibil. My favorite dish, however, is the humble bowl of black beans topped with queso fresco.

I was inspired to recreate this one weekend. Despite my predilection for canned beans, I have been experimenting with cooking my own from dried. I therefore ended up with a large container of black beans last week. Wanting a quick meal, I gussied them up with some onions, garlic, cumin and chipotle. I added some tomatoes for flavor and some early spring greens for color. It wasn't Mexico, but it took me a little farther south than the English Channel.

Black bean soup

1 medium onion, diced

1 clove garlic, minced

1/2 Tsp. cumin

A pinch of dried chipotle flakes

2 C. black beans

1 can tomatoes

1-2 C. vegetable broth

Sweat the onion and garlic until soft. Add cumin and chipotle flakes and stir around to release their aromas. Add the can of tomatoes, black beans and vegetable broth and bring to a boil.

Remove half of the soup and blend the remainder until smooth, either in a blender (having cooled off) or with an immersion blender. Return the chunky half to the pot, reheat if necessary.

Garnish with queso fresco (or, in my case, Wensleydale) and cilantro. Que rico!

Serves 2.

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