Category Archives: vegetables

marrow fritter, flatleaf parsley, shallots

A wonderful new food magazine, Saffron, acted as a timely reminder for me to stop procrastinating and to get on and write this post. Published for the first time last week, Saffron is a meticulously researched and beautifully illustrated journal that promises much for the future. It caught my eye for many reasons, not least of which was a eulogy to those fantastic ‘forgotten’ fats, lard and dripping.

If you’ve visited my blog (and my Twitter account) before, you’ll know that I’m an enthusiastic advocate of those very fats, as well as of suet. I only wish I could readily get hold of flead to cook with, too, but that’s a mission for another time.

But here’s another glorious source of fat which is too often overlooked and discarded – bone marrow.

Rich, slightly sweet, and as melt-in-the-mouth as you could possibly wish for, marrow is a highly nutritious treat that every self-declared food lover should try. I particularly love these fritters, in which the simple addition of lemon zest both counters and elevates the fatty marrow into something quite sublime. Do try.

Makes 2
50g marrow from veal marrow bones (see below)
20g fresh white bread crumbs
1 egg yolk
1 tbsp chopped flatleaf parsley
1 tsp lemon zest
salt, freshly ground black pepper to taste

Take a handful of marrow bones (cut across the bone – ask your butcher to do this) and cover with hot water. Bring to a bare simmer and cook the bones for no more than 5 minutes.

Remove the bones from the pan and leave to cool slightly on a plate. After a couple of minutes, push the marrow out of the bones using a teaspoon or other blunt cutlery. It will be a bit messy, but you should be left with some decent lumps of usable marrow.

Combine the marrow with all the other ingredients until they come together and you can shape the resultant mix. Roll into fritters about the length of your little finger.

In a heavy-based frying pan, heat a little vegetable oil (not olive oil). Put the fritter into the hot pan, and fry briskly, watching all the time, until the fritter is golden brown all over – this will take seconds, rather than minutes. Do not over fry!

Serve with a salad of flatleaf parsley, finely chopped shallots, dressed with olive or rapeseed oil.

‘haggis and neeps’

If I had to live anywhere other than Kent, the chances are that it would be Scotland. I lived there for a year back in the nineties, and came close to moving there 5 years ago. There’s something about the landscape that draws me in – from the Gothic grey of urban buildings to the rich green and purple hues and spectacular vistas of the countryside.

And then, of course, there’s the food. Scotland plays to my weaknesses for big flavours and hearty sustenance. I have fond memories of – to name only a few – mutton pies, Fife haddock, Caboc cheese, and all manner of sweet baked treats. None of it was good for the waistline, but it was mighty good for the soul.

At this time of year, of course, it’s all about Burns, haggis, neeps, and tatties – and the obligatory whisky. It’s not for the faint hearted, but then why would it be? As Burns himself said, the Scots aren’t the type for lily-livered food. Instead, “Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care, and dish them out their bill o’ fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware that jaups in luggies: but, if ye wish her grateful prayer, gie her a Haggis!”

I may be Kentish, but I commend that spirit.

But just in case you can’t eat a whole one, or you’re not mad on the texture of haggis, here’s a variation on the theme. I’ve used turnips for ‘neeps’. I know there’s an ongoing debate about whether neeps comprise swede or turnips, and I confess that I typically eat the former with haggis – but here, turnips work far better. The idea is that they make a dip along the lines of the Greek skordalia. If you want more punch to it, leave the garlic raw.

‘Haggis and neeps’ (for 2)

1 small haggis, cooked as per instructions, and left to cool
A bowl of 2 beaten eggs
A bowl of plain flour, seasoned
A bowl of white breadcrumbs
Vegetable oil , enough for deep frying

4 turnips, peeled, boiled, and left to steam and cool, then mashed
8 peeled garlic cloves, poached for 5 minutes in milk, then mashed
Ground almonds
Olive or rapeseed oil
Lemon juice, a squeeze
Salt and black pepper

Get the turnips ready first. Using a mortar and pestle, pound the turnips, garlic, and ground almonds together. Add the ground almonds to your taste and texture preference – you will probably need up to 50g or so. Then add a little olive oil to loosen. Finally, add a pinch of salt and a generous twist of black pepper, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Taste, and adjust the flavours as necessary. Don’t stint on the pepper – turnips love it!

For the haggis, heat a deep pan, wok, or fryer filled with vegetable oil – it’s ready when a small piece of bread turns golden brown in a matter of seconds.

Using your hands, scoop up some of the cooled haggis, and roll it into a ball – aim for golf ball size. If it’s too wet, and keeps breaking up, add some breadcrumbs, and use an egg yolk to bind the mixture. Repeat until you’ve got as many balls as you want to eat.

Lower the balls into the hot oil – don’t overcrowd the pan, so fry in batches if necessary. They should turn golden within a minute or so. Remove from the pan, and drain onto kitchen towel.

Eat and enjoy while crisp and hot, with the neeps dip. Wash down with a wee dram of whisky.

wild mushroom and cob nut galette

With all the upcoming Christmas festivities in prospect, it’s time to make sure that everyone’s catered for. Delicious in its own right, but particularly perfect for a non meat-eater at Christmas, this mushroom and cob nut ‘galette’ is simple to make and full of seasonal flavours.

If you’re quick, it’s still possible to get hold of Kentish cob nuts for Christmas from Farnell Farm or Potash Farm. You can use hazelnuts instead, but cob nuts have a much richer, creamier, and – dare I say – nuttier hit that’s worth going the extra mile for. Similarly, although I prefer wild mushrooms, you can happily use other well-flavoured mushrooms instead, such as chestnut or portabello.

This recipe is a much simplified adaptation of one by the Irish food writer and restaurateur, Denis Cotter, from ‘Wild Garlic, Gooseberries, and Me’. If you want to try your hand at more unusual vegetarian food, or if you’re looking for a Christmas present for a keen cook, then I thoroughly recommend any of Cotter’s books.

Anyway, to the recipe… It may look a little fiddly, but it’s really quite straightforward and quick to make. Serves 4.

Ingredients
300g or so wild mushrooms, coarsely chopped
100g cob nuts, coarsely chopped
1 large celeriac, peeled
100g mascarpone
small bunch flat-leafed parsley, finely chopped
400ml red wine
200ml passata
1 tsp brown sugar
2 sprigs thyme
about 50g butter
seasoning, to taste

First, make the red wine and passata sauce. Put the red wine, passata, thyme, and sugar in a saucepan, and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat, and leave to simmer until reduced by half. Remove the thyme. Set aside.

Slice the celeriac as thinly as possible, and trim to the size and shape you want (mine were about 7cm squared). Shallow fry the slices, one at a time, in hot oil until tender and golden. Drain on kitchen roll and set aside.

In a large frying pan, heat a generous knob of butter until it begins to foam. Add the mushrooms to the pan, and sauté briskly over a high heat, until cooked and browned. Add the chopped parsley and 1 chopped sprig of thyme leaves right at the end of the cooking, and stir in.

Leave to cool slightly, and then add the mascarpone and chopped cob nuts, and mix in until properly incorporated. Season the mixture to taste.

Layer the galette, starting with a slice of celeriac, then a mushroom and cob nut layer, and so on, finishing with a slice of celeriac.

Reheat the red wine and tomato sauce, and whisk in a small knob of cold butter, so that the sauce becomes glossy. Carefully spoon it around the galette. Serve!

apple, butternut squash, ginger, and cobnut trifle

After a couple of hearty courses, the thought of a hefty pudding often defeats me. But a trifle… well, a trifle can always tempt me!

At this time of year, though, it seems fitting to make a version that’s in keeping with the seasons, rather than using frozen berries for a summer trifle, or rushing into clementines and sherry for a traditional Christmas or winter style one.

So here’s my offering. A late autumnal trifle using local apples, butternut squash, and my favourite Kentish cobnuts. It is simple to make, and utterly delicious. If nothing else (and if you’re not a trifle fan), I urge you to make the butternut squash sponge as an alternative to the more usual carrot cake.

You will need (for 4 people):

Apple purée – 3 or 4 large Bramleys, chopped. Put them in a saucepan with a splash of water and sugar to taste (a couple of tablespoons or so). Cook until the apples have become purée and all the water has disappeared.

For the butternut squash and ginger sponge – I simply used this recipe as my basis, and added 3 finely chopped balls of ginger in syrup. And, instead of using muffin tins, I poured the cake batter into a 20 x 20cm square tin. The result is a flattish sponge, perfect for cutting up and using in trifle. Soak the sponge in your preferred alcohol – I’d suggest dry cider or brandy.

For the custard: use your preferred recipe. A custard which incorporates cornflour, for a thicker, more stable custard, is ideal when making trifle. I also added a couple of spoonfuls of ginger syrup to mine.

Double cream: you’ll need however much you want – whipped until it reaches firm peak stage.

Cobnuts: a couple of generous handfuls, roasted in a warm oven (180C) for about 15 minutes. When the nuts have cooled, rub them between your hands to rid them of the as much of the skins as possible. Then chop coarsely.

Assemble your trifle however you like, but finishing with a layer of the whipped cream and a topping of chopped cobnuts.

roast mallard, red wine pears, celeriac, wild mushrooms

There are roasts, and then there are game roasts. With the game season now in full swing, it’s the time to to put aside your usual roast meats in favour of something more seasonal and, frankly, more flavoursome.

If you’ve yet to be converted, then mallard is a good starting point. As it’s smaller than farmed ducks, you’ll need 1 bird between 2 people, or even 1 each if you’re feeding large appetites!

To cook your mallard, simply smear it with butter or duck fat, and season. Pop it into a roasting dish, and put into a hot oven – 220C for 10 minutess, then 200C for a further 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave to rest for another 10 minutes, so that all the flavour can seep back into the muscle fibres.

For the pears, carefully peel your Conference pears, leaving the stalks on – you’ll need one pear per person. For 4 people, place 4 pears in a deep and wide saucepan, cover with red wine, 4 tbsps caster sugar, and about 250ml water. Add a couple of star anise and a stick of cinnamon to the pan. Bring the pan to just up below boiling, turn the heat down, and leave to simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the pears are fully tender. Remove the pears from the pan and leave to cool.

For the celeriac, simply prepare it as you would roast potatoes. Peel and chop, then boil for about 7 minutes. Drain, and leave to steam briefly. Season. Put into a dish with hot oil or duck fat, and roast at 200C for 40 minutes.

The wild mushrooms couldn’t be simpler. In a large frying pan, melt a generous knob of butter over a medium heat. As soon as the butter starts to foam, put in the mushrooms. Move them around until well coated, slightly softened, and golden. Don’t put too many in the pan at once, or they’ll stew.

For some greenery, and an element of bitterness to counter the richness of the mallard and the sweetness of the pears, kale, Swiss chard, or cavolo nero makes a great accompainment. In a wok or similar-shaped pan, put a generous knob of butter. Throw in your chopped kale (stripped from the stalks) and toss it around until glistening with the butter. Pour in a splash of hot water, and put a lid on the pan immediately. The kale is ready when it’s wilted – no more than a couple of minutes.

Serve with a red wine reduction, and enjoy!

mackerel, fennel, pomegranate

Mackerel may not be regarded as the most luxurious of fish – it’s not rare, delicate, or expensive – but that’s no reason not to put it centre stage. With its wonderful appearance – especially when the skin is cooked and turns various hues of silver and gold – and its meaty flavour and texture, it makes a delicious (and nutritious) highlight to any meal.

Because mackerel is a strong tasting and ‘oily’ fish, it needs to be balanced with acidity and fresh flavours. Fennel with mint and yogurt provide a good match, and orange and pomegranate bring both colour and citrus.

You’ll need, per serving:

One mackerel fillet
Half a fennel
A teaspoon or so of natural yogurt
Fresh mint, chopped – to taste
A few slices of orange
Pomegranate seeds

All you need to do is to shave the fennel as thinly as possible – a mandolin is great for this job, but a sharp knife will do the job just as well. Then add a little yogurt, no more than a heaped teaspoon, and mix it in. You want to barely coat the fennel, not slather it. Add some fresh mint to taste.

Put a small splash of sunflower or groundnut oil in a frying pan. Once the pan is good and hot, lay the mackerel fillet in, skin side down. Fry for 2 minutes, then turn the fish over, and fry for another minute.

Serve by placing a small mound of the fennel slaw on the centre of the plate. Lay the mackerel fillet on top. Decorate the plate with slices of orange and the pomegranate seeds in any way you like!

an Autumn feast

Autumn. It’s when we come over all ‘season of mists’ as the final leaves fall from the trees and the mornings start to have a distinct chill to them.

As we approach the end of November, summer and harvest festivals already seem a long time past. There are still several weeks to go until Christmas. And yet… it’s a wonderful time for the food lover, bringing as it does new crops of comforting fruit and vegetables alongside the last throes of earlier seasonal ingredients.

It seems an ideal time, then, for a celebration – a feast to brighten the longer, dark evenings, to make the very best of autumnal produce, and to mark a kind of midpoint between harvest time and Christmas.

I suppose ‘feast’ conjures visions of lavish expense, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Since we moved to our current house 2 years ago, I’ve been constantly surprised at how much we can grow (and I’m no expert!) for ourselves, and how much we save on food shopping expenditure as a result. We don’t have a large garden, but we’ve put in small fruit trees where we can, dug out a couple of dedicated vegetable patches, and planted a lot of herbs and fruit bushes in the borders.

Growing our own also means I’ve become even more aware of seasonality and the rhythms of the year, and how much better everything genuinely looks and tastes when it’s grown at the ‘right’ time. As I say, I don’t regard myself as a gardener, but I can’t imagine not growing my own now.

Anyway, enough talking, and more feasting. What follows is 3 courses, but I’ll be blogging about pre- and post-prandial nibbles and drinks shortly, just in time for Christmas! And for those who don’t eat meat, I’ll post alternatives to the starter and main course soon, too.

To start: pan-fried mackerel with fennel and mint slaw, orange, and pomegranate

Next: roast mallard with red wine-poached pears, roasted celeriac, parsnips, wild mushrooms, and sautéed kale

To finish: butternut squash, apple, ginger, and roasted cobnut trifle

If you want help with planning a garden design that will give you your own seasonal fruit and vegetables to feast on, it’s worth thinking about getting expert help. Floral & Hardy specialises in contemporary garden design and tailors gardens to meet the needs of the consumer. They take on many challenging gardens of all sizes and have an expert team who work out how to use space effectively.

With thanks to Floral & Hardy for their kind sponsorship of this post.

pickled courgettes

I never fail to be amazed and amused at courgette plants. Early in summer for the past few years, I’ve put a couple of puny-looking little shoots out into the garden – and each year, these unpromising tiny green leaves have turned into monster plants producing courgettes almost more quickly than I can pick and use them.

Typically, our courgettes go straight from being cut into a lunch or dinner meal. But for those times when I simply can’t keep pace with the number of courgettes coming at me, the following recipe is a godsend. And, by happy coincidence, the end result goes fantastically with those meats of summer – ham, pâtés, and barbecued burgers and red meats.

So, if we’re lucky enough to have another warm weekend at this very tail end of summer (and, as I write, the prospect of that is looking good), this is a recipe worth giving a spin. Make it now, and it’ll be ready to dish up at lunch on Saturday.

Ingredients
pickling mix:
500ml cider vinegar, or a half and half mix of cider vinegar and Perton’s apple verjus for a sweeter pickle
120g sugar
1 1/2 tsp dry mustard powder
1 1/2 tsp crushed yellow and brown mustard seeds
1 tsp ground turmeric

for 1 litre of pickle:
500g courgettes
2 tbsp best sea salt
1 small onion

1. Slice the courgettes very thinly into discs (a mandoline is best for this job). Cut the onion in half, and then slice very thinly, too. Place together in a large bowl, add salt and mix thoroughly.

2. Cover with very cold water and stir to dissolve the salt.

3. After 1 hour, drain and dry thoroughly in small batches in a salad spinner or by hand between towels. Combine with the pickling mix in a saucepan and simmer for 3 minutes. Set aside until just warm to touch.

4. Mix the courgettes with cooled liquid in a bowl. Transfer the pickle to pre-sterilised jars. Cover and refrigerate for a least a day before serving.

The pickles will keep indefinitely if refrigerated.

Kentish cob nut and carrot top pesto

It’s at this time of year that I tend to make pesto out of almost anything fresh, green, and leafy – not just herbs, but beet greens, radish tops, spinach… you name it. So when @CarlLegge tweeted brief details of a version that he’d made from carrot tops, I felt compelled to try it for myself.

carrot top pesto 1

But since I have a kitchen filled with Kentish ingredients, the challenge of tweaking Carl’s recipe to make a more local version also tickled my fancy. And, of course, its adaptability is in any case part of pesto’s appeal. Ask a hundred Italians, and you will hear a hundred different methods of making the stuff!

I also decided to keep the carrot tops raw in order to harness as much of their essence as possible. Together with the sweet golden Kent-grown cob nuts, cold-pressed buttery rapeseed oil from north Kent (Quex Estate), and umami-tangy Lord of the Hundreds cheese (which tastes somewhere between Parmesan and pecorino, and is made in East Sussex), my version makes for a fragrant and wonderfully flavoursome pesto which captures all the goodness of summer’s carrots.

carrot top pesto 2

Kentish cob nut and carrot top pesto (serves 4)
(I give inexact quantities quite deliberately. For me, pesto is all about playing with your ingredients until you achieve the flavour and texture you prefer.)

A large handful of fresh, well-washed carrot tops (about 100g) – they need to be as fresh as possible, as older tops will introduce an unwelcome bitterness. Discard any particularly thick stems, as they will be overly fibrous
A handful of shelled cob nuts (about 50 – 75g)
About 75g or so of Lord of the Hundreds, or any cheese similar to Parmesan or pecorino
As much rapeseed oil as you need for your preferred consistency – probably 150-200ml or so
Half a garlic clove
Sea salt and black pepper

Roughly chop the carrot tops and garlic, and put them in a food processor together with the cob nuts, cheese, oil, and seasoning.

(Note – if you want a more toasted flavour to the pesto, pre-roast the nuts for about 20 mins in the oven at about 160C, or by ‘frying’ them in a pan on the hob for a few minutes. Watch them very carefully, though – once they start releasing their oils, they burn very quickly.)

Pulse until you have pesto! As Carl says, be prepared to scrape down the processor every so often to ensure everything is properly blended. Taste as you go along and adjust the quantities of your ingredients to suit. You may also want to add a squirt of lemon juice at the end.

If you don’t eat it immediately, spoon the pesto into a jar, and seal it with a layer of more oil – half a centimetre should be fine. This will stop the pesto deteriorating and will help it retain its colour.

carrot top pesto 3

Use as you would do ‘normal’ pesto. With pasta is probably the obvious choice, but I also like to stir a couple of tablespoons through puy lentils, served with (confit) roast pork belly.

The original, slightly shorter version of this post first appeared in Permaculture online.

radishes with summer savory butter

As I type away here, the sun is streaming through my window and the temperature is already in the high 20s. It is, as the tabloids would have it, ‘a scorcher’. And on days like this, I have little inclination to get behind the stove. Anything I prepare has to be quick, tasty, and preferably cooling, too. After all, I’d rather be sitting outside with a glass of something chilled.

Crisp radishes, straight from the garden, make the perfect snack or appetite sharpener for a meal. And summer savory – with its inimitable scent, falling somewhere between rosemary, thyme, and pepper, as the herb expert, Jekka McVicar once described it – is the perfect accompaniment, especially when combined with a little cold unsalted butter.

summer savory

Savory is a wonderfully versatile herb, and makes an refreshing substitute for salt and pepper. It’s a mystery to me why it ever fell out of favour, particularly as it’s easy to grow and attractive to look at. Try the tips scattered over salads, in meat rubs, or with egg dishes.

Or try this ridiculously simple combination: take 1 teaspoon of summer savoury tips, chop finely, and add to 50-75g (according to taste) of slightly softened unsalted butter in a bowl. Mash the two together until well blended. Spoon the butter out into a small sheet of clingfilm or baking parchment, and make a roll. Put into the fridge until cold and firm. To serve, slice and eat with freshly pulled and washed radishes.

radishes summer savory butter

Wash down with something equally chilled and spicy.

Use the leftover green radish tops in salads, or wilt them with a little butter, as you would do spinach. Or blitz them to make a more unusual addition to a pesto.