Small Adventures in Cooking by James Ramsden

"a hip addition to the kitchen shelf"

 James Ramsden’s Small Adventures in Cooking recounts exactly that: a mini-voyage of culinary exploration, through Corner Shops and Cheap Cuts, Emulsions and Macerations.  Small they may be, but our adventurer is intrepid, unflawed by the likes of Ox cheek or Duck Rilletes, unflailing faced with the Korean fermented cabbage dish, Kimchi, or soused Mackerel.  Convivial and colourful from the outset, the reader is swiftly drawn in, to venture alongside Ramsden in this culinary foray.

Separated into eight unorthodox sections, Ramsden writes food as he thinks it: from Va Va Voyages, where you’ll find the exotic and quick to cook, to Corner Shop Capers, a eulogy to the quirky ingredients available in city corner-shops, including Soviet Salmon Soup and a Pitta Pizza topped with the unlikely Tinned Fried Onions(!).   Morning Missions is dedicated to breakfasting, suggesting Home-Made Baked Beans, Huevos Rancheros and Chilli Hot Chocolate as additions to the breakfast table.  Being a devotee to the art of breaking the fast myself, this quite won me over.  Exploring the Cheap Cuts; Formal Forays and Feeding the Flocks are self-explanatory. The latter I found vaguely disappointing, although the food is fun – kebabs, fondues – it has the feel of pub platters.  That said, the Goat Curry had me swooning, as Ramsden writes:  “Curry is  a great party-dish”, to be stacked on rice and served with a multitude of chutneys, raitas and home-made breads.  And, I cannot but triumph a cookery book that includes a chapter on Preserves for the Pantry, particularly one that suggests how to use them, saving each of us from that tendency of filling the pantry, only to find same preserves festering on the top shelves years later.  Finally, in Surfing the Stumbling Blocks he tackles those notions that tend to terrorise the novice cook: from Shortcrust Pastry to Hollandaise, smartly rendering the seemingly impossible, possible.

The introduction sets the tone for the book: “Surely the kitchen should be a place of comfort and reassurance, not terror and torment”.  A voice at once personable and exuberant accompanies the reader;  hip without being daunting, it offers guidance without preaching.  The recipes are succinct but comprehensive, couched in tips and tales, ever reminding the reader that cooking is a joyous experiment, recipes are: “a guide, not a gospel”.  Intrinsic to this is the very malleability of the recipes, all to be “tweaked”, “tarted”, the leftovers used “tomorrow”, spawning same flexibility in the novice-cook, and this is surely one of the hardest kitchen arts for the unexperienced, unadventurous soul, so Ramsden writes:  “Trust your instincts”, “Have an amenable agenda” and “Make your itinerary flexible”.

One of the most pertinent mantras of the book: “Keep your ear to the ground” encourages the reader to “Be Chatty” reminding us that cooking is a communal act that commences with sourcing the produce and culminates in that most profound and joyous of communions, the sharing of food.  Talk to the shopkeepers, he writes, “as well as making for great entertainment, such discussions are inspiring reminders that there are very few absolutes in cooking”.  In this tone, Ramsden recalls an encounter with a “bonkers polish man” who introduced him to an apparently tasty Tinned Sorrel Soup with a Boiled Egg.  He takes this interaction one step further by inviting responses to his recipes via Twitter and Email, reminding us that cookery is an art to be explored and above all to be shared

Much as one might pretend otherwise, a cookery book is no longer simply a manual, it has a secondary function: it must induce pleasurable browsing, preferably with a glass of wine in the hand whilst dreaming-up next week’s banquets.  This is a beautiful book, quite the sort to curl up on the sofa with.  And, a stencilled card and gaudy orange binding, sumptuous photos and near-scrawling notes on carnet-like pages, it proves a hip addition to the kitchen shelf!

Aimed at an audience of twenty or thirty-somethings, the book is far from highbrow, it does not indulge in the literary meanderings of an Elizabeth David, nor for that matter is it a scientific tome.  So intent is the writer on keeping the kitchen a light-hearted place, a gentle colloquialism verges on (and happily fails to fall into) the Jamie Oliver tendency of catchphrasing: expressions such as “you get the idea” might put some off, and the book would perhaps be unsuited to the culinary snob. 

I say this, and yet, written with such flair, so abounding in joy, and such an utter pleasure to read, I wouldn’t hesitate to pass it on to any of my entourage.

A cook-book that combines a boy-next-door charm and lack of pretension, with an erudite wealth of culinary knowledge, an evident depth of research and recipes destined to please multiple pallets on myriad occasions, with his Small Adventures in Cooking, James Ramsden heralds an exciting new generation of cookery writing.

....

Small Adventures in Cooking by James Ramsden

New Voices in Food, Quadrille Publishing, London 2011, 191 pages.  
 ISBN: 9781844009572

Hot Beetroot Hummus, in flamboyant pink?

 

As is doubtless apparent, I am all for quirky cuisine.  But I do baulk at the Blumenthalian tendency to make one food look like another – I am now envisaging (baulking) Heston’s Medieval Meat Fruits Bowl.  So, when Amelia (@TailoredTat), lover of all things gaudy, suggested Pink Hummus, I had to bite my tongue, put aside my suddenly-uber-conservative-kitchen-conventions…

Hot Beetroot Hummus

I am ashamed to say I used a tin of Chick Peas, and some ready-cooked vac-packed Beetroot.  (Whatever's to hand) Otherwise soak the Chick Peas overnight, cook until tender, reserving cooking water, and use Beetroot, raw or cooked as your prefer.

Blend Chick Peas, 1 Beetroot, finely chopped (if cooked) or grated (raw), 6 cloves of garlic, ½ tbsp Whole Cumin Seed, 1 tsp Ground Cumin, 1 tsp Chilli Powder, 1-2 tbsp water, 1 lg tbsp Tahini.  The mixture should be pretty solid still, the Lemon juice will smooth it out.

Once blended, add the juice of 2 lemons to the mixture, and salt to taste.  Tweak Lemon, Tahini, Salt, Cumin until you have the exact flavour desired.  With conventional Hummus I would then spread this paste-like mix on a plate and drown the lot in Olive Oil.  However, the Olive Oil dousing looked all-too incongruous against the pink, so I mixed in a good tablespoon of Olive Oil before plating.  Sprinkle with Chilli Powder and Cumin Seeds and garnish with a Chilli. 

 

It did of course look much like a Blackcurrant Blancmange, one invitee was sorely disappointed to discover ‘twas not indeed a hankered after Raspberry Mousse.  But the Beetroot was scrumptious in the Hummus, and like-it-or-not, in flamboyant pink, the dish was a vibrant addition to the table.

Elderflower Champagne, Elderflower and Gooseberry Vodka, Pickled Gooseberries.

In an expression of culinary nous, the Elderflower and Gooseberry Seasons just overlap, offering myriad excuses to combine the tart berries with the diaphanous sweet-scented flowers.  Be it in an Elderflower and Gooseberry Fool, a Champagne, a Marmalade, or as here in Vodka.

Elderflowers are best picked on a bright early morning when the volatile oils are rising.  Choose unblemished flowers in blossom.  ‘tis the season, and the season is short, with the current heat and winds the flowers will soon be over.  So, on a spritely Sunday morning - to pick! 

A simple recipe for Elderflower Champagne, using the wild yeasts gathered on the blossom, tried and tested in several gallon quantities, by Christophe, brewer extraordinaire on Macalla Ecofarm, Clare Island, is the following:

5 heads of Elderflower (shaken for bugs) ; 1 Lemon (very finely sliced); 500g Sugar, 1 tbsp Cider Vinegar (White Wine if to hand), 5lt Water.

Put the lot in a fermenting bucket, stir, cover with a tea-towel, and leave to ferment stirring regularly to dissolve the sugar, for three to four days, depending on the rate of fermentation. Then bottle in sterilised screw-top bottles and keep for a month at least before drinking.

Put the lot in a fermenting bucket

A momentary panic set in here, when my own batch failed to start fermenting. Perhaps due to the temperature of this house, where even my Sourdough takes a full twenty-four hours as opposed to the usual ten.

The unsettling time is now over, a flash of sunshine had the brew in burgeoning effervescence.  And yesterday afternoon, smartly, for over fermenting in air can turn the drink acrid, the Champagne was strained through muslin and bottled using a siphon.  Already a glorious, if slightly sweet, sparkling Elderflower wine, the in-bottle fermentation will allow the flavour to mature and, I believe, ferment the remaining sugars.

A couple of litres was kept aside to ferment for Wine in an airlocked Demijohn... As I stacked the many bottles into the Shed, alongside the other pickles and preserves, and saw the Garden Shed/Pantry 'plenishing I was reminded of a Macalla Farm adage:   We may have holes in our clothes, but we are rich... 

 

Inspired by With Knife and Fork’s “Elderflower Rush”, and having picked a lot of gooseberries to encourage better fruiting, I decided to attempt Elderflower and Gooseberry Rush:

Elderflower and Gooseberry Vodka

Top and tail 200g Gooseberries and pierce.  Add these, 5 heads of Elderflower, 250g of Sugar and 70cl Vodka to a Demijohn.  Shake well to help dissolve sugar.  Store in a cool dark place, shaking regularly for the first month.  Strain and Bottle.  Mature in bottle for a further month.

Pickled Gooseberries

The River Cottage Preserves Handbook, a handy-sized guide to the multitudinous means of preserving, lured me, and with it in hand I soon found myself pickling the remaining Gooseberries.  Sadly, as is perhaps painfully evident as I write, I am far from adept at following recipes.  The Pickled Gooseberries turned out quite other to the gleaming tender pink/green berries I had envisaged bedecked in a rich gloopy coating of cinnamon-spiced vinegary syrup – No!  Mine were a rather watery hotchpotch of Gooseberry seeds and skin in various merging pallid tones.

"a rather watery hotchpotch of Gooseberry seeds and skin in various merging pallid tones"

From this description, I know you cannot but wish to get hold of my own variation on the recipe.  I thus include it herewith:

Top and tail 200g Gooseberries (pert, green).

Put 150ml Cider Vinegar and 150ml Cider, Cinnamon, Cloves, Root Ginger in a pan.  Boil. Simmer for 5 mins.  Leave to cool.  Once cool, strain and place Gooseberries and ¼ Red onion thinly sliced in the mixture, 2tsp Mustard Seeds and a Chilli.  Heat slowly without bringing to the boil (I fear I cooked my own too quick, encouraging the Gooseberries to fall to pieces). Simmer very very slowly until Gooseberries tender.  Strain, keeping liquid.  Pack fruits into warm, sterilised jars. Meanwhile add 200g sugar to liquid and reduce to a thick syrup. Cover the Gooseberries in Syrup.  Seal and keep for a month before eating, allowing the Gooseberries to fully pickle.

Prior to making, I had imagined the berries served with a Camembert or a Pyrenean Ewes Cheese. However, at the result, I think this would be more appropriate served with Mackerel in a pickled variation on the Maquereau aux Groseilles theme.

A Eulogy to Norfolk Roadside Wares

Gluttony took hold - at the sight of Wiveton Hall's Strawberries 

- earthy,thick and sweet /  ...walking at Freshes, 
beneath my toes (hush!) the first sprigs 
of Samphire/ from a shed down a Blakeney alley
...Fresh Dressed Crab/

 ...and from a farmyard in Hindol'/ the first broadbeans 

small, raw-sweet as peas... and half a dozen Welsummer eggs/ terracotta red.

An afternoon, a eulogy to Norfolk roadside wares.

Sunday Afternoon (Peasant) Soup - Nettle, Wild Garlic, Sorrel and Horseradish

Wild Garlic, Wild Sorrel, Water-Mint, Nettles and Horseradish.

On a late May Sunday afternoon, a wind blustering round the house and all pretence at Summer waned; the rugs beat (for when better to do it than when the wind does it for you); the cupboard bare (for it is Summer, and one had planned to live off scant homepicked salads Summer long), except for an onion, a few mouldering potatoes… the weather calls for une bonne Soupe Paysanne or "Peasant Soup".

The first obligation is to face the weather, to wrap up and go gather Nettles and whatever other wild greens suit your pallet.  I also picked a bit of Wild Sorrel and the last of the Wild Garlic, which has really come to an end.  I found some Water-Mint, but refrained from putting that in the soup, as it has rather a strong flavour, and I think better in tea than in food.  The Dandelion leaves are large at present, grandiose almost, quite the most billowing leaf around it would seem, but I held back simply because they are bitter, and with the sharp taste of the Sorrel I thought it might be a bit much.  I then grabbed a large handful of Garden Herbs and returned to the haven of the kitchen.

Second, to pour yourself a tumbler of a very unpretentious French red, to give-in to the spirit of the affair, then grab a pan and a wooden spoon. 

This morning trying to revive the Rhubarb patch, quite marauded by Ground Elder, I came across a different root, twisting and thick, with a sweet smell - Horseradish, of course! So I added this to give the soup a bit of a kick.

I understand the art of a Soupe Paysanne to be the chunky texture, the vegetables are cooked, but not falling to pieces, the broth is hot and salty, and the meal, although simple is sustaining and satisfying… don’t therefore waste time with pernickety chopping.  Let the Herbs be whole branches, the Onion coarse, the Potatoes chunky… and throw in the Nettles, stems and all.

Method:

Chop an Onion and sweat in Butter or Olive Oil, according to preference.  I used Butter with a drop of Oil to prevent it burning.  Add a few whole Garlic Cloves and several finely chopped Wild Garlic Leaves.  Stir, then add Potatoes cut into chunks.  Cover the lot in Water, adding the grated Horseradish (to taste) and a handful of Garden herbs (Sage, Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, a pair of Bay Leaves).  Bring to the boil.  Allow to simmer gently, adding the cooked Beans (I cook these separately, in this case I used Butter Beans, but any will do) when the potatoes are about halfway cooked.  Once the potatoes are nearly done add the Sorrel and Nettles, letting them wilt, the Sorrel will turn khaki, the Nettles should retain their vivid green colour.

Season with Salt, Pepper and Tamari. 

The soup is very sustaining as it is, but it can be made more comforting with a handful of Salt and Pepper Croutons and some Grated Cheese.

I made the Croutons using Stale Bread, Olive Oil, Chunky Sea-Salt and Black Pepper, and grated Mrs Temples’ Walsingham cheese on top of the soup, a local interpretation of Cheddar.

Curl up with your Bottle of Wine by the Wood Burner and eat the Soup leafing through Elizabeth David, or watching dishy Jean-Paul Belmondo in a Sunday afternoon movie…

Sunday Morning, A Basket of Strawberries

A blowy bike trip this morning has the basket full with the Sunday Papers and these beautiful Strawberries 
from a favoured roadside stall.

Pickled Beetroot, The Frugal Meal

This is a house of pickles.  Our breakfast, a poached local egg, (be it Chicken, Duck or even Turkey), a slice of Rye Sourdough and a Pickle of sorts, perhaps a spicy home-made Sauerkraut, Sweet Pickled Cucumbers, a briny Green Chilli… whatever sits beckoning on the dedicated shelf… an apparently frugal meal is in fact a feast.

Poached Turkey Egg on Sourdough with various Pickles

Gifted or gleaned the veg box is also often brimming. And fed up with several weeks of watching some once very fetching beetroot shrivelling, I decided yesterday to pickle them… in a month’s time these will provide a welcome variation on the breakfast table. 

Boil up: 50ml Apple Juice, 100ml Cider Vinegar, 100ml Balsamic Vinegar, 1/2tbsp Demerara Sugar, 6 peppercorns, 6 cloves, 1 tsp brown mustard seeds, I tsp coriander seed.

Add grated remains of 5 shrunken beets and ½ in. grated Root Ginger.  Bring to the boil again, then pot rapidly in sterilised jar with a pair of bay leaves, covered in the vinegar mix.  Allow at least a month to mature.

Eat Pickled Beetroot with: Goat's Cheese, serve with Mackerel to cut through the oil, with Pates and Rich Meats to give some bite or, simply, with a spoonful of yogurt on a bowl of Lentils.

This pickling Recipe can be used as a basis for pickling many a vegetable.  You might want to replace the Apple Juice with Orange or skip it all together, and although the Balsamic goes well with Beetroot, in a conventional pickle I would use a simpler Vinegar, such as Cider.

Other Pickle Recipes:  A Pickled Pear ; Pickled Gooseberries

 Le repas frugal, Pablo Picasso

Not-Quite-Raw Sour-Milk Soft Goat’s Cheese / Home-Made Herby Labneh

This is a creamy, dreamy cheese.
The sublimeness perhaps dependent on Fielding Cottage’s sublime Raw Goat’s Milk.  For lack of fridge the milk turned rather quick and, as has become habit on such (all-too-common) occasions, I put myself to the task of making Sour Milk Soft Cheese.

Despite uncertain glances at the souring milk all too-readily put to use, Mary Norvak in The Farmhouse Kitchen has quite obliged me:  To make cheese, she writes unabashed: “Put sour milk in a warm place until thick.  Add half teaspoon salt to each pint of milk.  Put into a muslin bag and leave to drain over night”. 

I combined this with Yotam Ottolenghi’s ‘Labneh with Olives, Pistachios and Oregano Recipe’ (a tear-out from The Guardian Weekend 10^th October 2009, but I imagine it now features in his latest book: Plenty.)

Thus:

Scald the Sour Goat’s Milk so it splits (this speeds up the process), without boiling.  If your milk is not sour you can split it with ½ tbsp of vinegar. Allow to cool slightly and combine with a similar quantity of Natural Yoghurt and 1 tsp of good salt to pint of milk.  Strain through muslin for several hours or overnight. 

(The resulting liquid is Whey.  This can be used in bread as I am reminded by Linda of withknifeandfork, or in Lacto-Fermentation, as it abounds in Lactobacilli.  I actually used it in Buckwheat Pancakes… I shall tell anon).

And there, in the muslin sits the lovely soft cheese.  The yoghurt gives it a creamy texture and a sharp depth of flavour sometimes absent in DIY cheeses.  Inspired by Ottolenghi, I combined the Soft Cheese with a mix of Palestinian spices I had to hand (Toasted Sesame, Syrian Marjoram, Sumac), some finely chopped Oregano from the garden, and Olives. 

Douse the cheese in Olive Oil and serve for breakfast with just-baked Flat Bread, more Olives and Black Coffee.
Dream yourself into the Middle-East.

A Birthday Banquet, and Norfolk Black Turkey Egg n’ Nettle Quiche with a Spelt Pastry.

Menu:

Tea and Wholemeal Honey Cake (as per River Cottage Everyday), an Amelia variation.

HomeMade Hummus and Peter’s Yard Crackerbreads

Sardines and Asparagus bathed only in Balsamic and Olive Oil, placed thus, dripping onto the fire.

Wild-Garlic-Pesto Bread – a simple white Flat Yeast Bread rolled, risen and baked with the last scrapings of the Garlic Pesto.

Rosemary Foccacia (as above, but with Rosemary and Sél de Guérande)

Mandy’s Garden Salad: Sorrel, Ground Elder, Mint, Lettuces, Red-veined Sorrel (oh glorious!), Marjoram, Chive Flowers

Andy and Nick’s beauteous salady concoctions in equally beauteous bowls.

Norfolk Cordial’s Rhubarb and Elderflower Jelly-in-a-Jug

Coffee-Chocolate Mousse

And a Quiche…

I of course failed to take pics, ‘til the following day.  One only, of the remains of the quiche, kindly taken by Sophie Goodenough.

Norfolk Black Turkey Egg n’ Nettle Quiche with a Spelt Pastry.

Amidst the jewels at our multifarious roadside stalls: half a dozen Norfolk Black Turkey Eggs, mottled beige, larger than a duck’s and almost pointed.  So for the birthday cook-up we put our coins in the tin and took them home.

Amelia made a scrumptious wholemeal Spelt Pastry (Letheringsett Mill Wholemeal Spelt Flour, Cold Butter, Cold water)… and blind-baked it.  We then fried up half an onion in butter, added a large bowl of Nettle-Tops, Dandelion Leaves, Radish tops, rinsed… and let them wilt in the butter.  To bulk up the tart we split a few asparagus lengthways and laid them in the base.  Then, we beat four Turkey Eggs with crème fraiche, salt and pepper.  Tossed the filling together and poured in on top of the asparagus, to be then baked at about 180C for forty minutes.  And what a dreamy rich and sustaining quiche ‘twas, even providing a substantial morning-after breakfast.

"That tart was delicious! 
I wanted to dive into the picture and eat some..."
Photo by Norfolk photographer and designer Sophie Goodenough (@sophiegoodas)

Spring Shoots - Nettle, Sorrel, Dandelion, Sea Beet

This is the second part of the article that appeared in Permaculture Magazine, 65, Spring 2011.

 

 

Sea Beet

NETTLE, SORREL, DANDELION and SEA BEET

The lengthening days herald Spring and the first new shoots.  Young, green, tender, these first greens are the best to be had.  Purging and purifying after the heavy winter vittles, their appearance, like that of the first blossom, is joy!   Surely the best way to salute the arrival of these greens is to gather a handful of each and, keeping the Nettles aside, to throw them together as a bright salad.  Chop up the Nettles very finely to break the stinging needles, mix with garlic, olive oil and vinegar, for a simple Nettle vinaigrette to pour over the salad. 

NETTLE – Urtica dioica

High in protein, Iron and Vitamin C, Nettles are a sturdy and popular spring green.    They appear early, and their young tops are the best parts to use.  As well as eating them fresh, they can be picked and dried for teas or frozen as greens for stir-frys, tarts and soups.

Nettle Pesto

Chop 500g fresh Nettles finely.  Add to this 250g of Pine nuts toasted and crushed (lay in a tea towel and roll over with a rolling pin), the same of coarsely grated parmesan, a lot of finely chopped garlic (for garlic lovers as much as a whole head) and coarse sea-salt to taste.   Mix lightly with a favourite olive oil, until it reaches a chunky, thick consistency.    Serve the pesto with pasta, spread on bread, add to courgette soup.  Freeze or pot and pasteurise.

The recipe can be done with a blender, but the oil tends to emulsify and create a brown sludge.  Chopping all the ingredients separately by hand creates a vibrant green pesto of myriad textures. 

Vegans can replace the parmesan with sunflower seeds.

Those nettle-venturers who are not yet convinced aficionados might want to supplement half the nettles with a more docile green, such as rocket, basil or sorrel…

SORREL – Rumex acetosa

One of my favourite wild greens, Common Sorrel is much like French Sorrel in appearance and flavour.  It is perennial and grows vivaciously all over the UK and Ireland.  A Rumex, it is related to the dreaded dock, and forms a similar seed-head in Summer.  Like Oca, it is high in oxalic acid, giving it a sour, lemony bite.  The wild version is much stronger in taste than the French, cultivated variety.  Like all the other greens it can be eaten raw in salad, chopped into a vinaigrette, wilted, steamed or stir fryed – although the flavour remains good when cooked, it does lose its emerald green colour to become a sludgy khaki.  If you don’t mind the colour, then just use sorrel in the following recipe for a really sharp flavour, otherwise mix sorrel with other greens, such as young spinach or sea-beet.

Sorrel tart

On a blind-baked pastry case layer buttered softened onions, wilted sorrel and chunks of blue cheese. (In Norfolk Mrs Temple’s “Binham Blue” is a particularly good local alternative to Stilton).  Whisk 4 eggs (duck eggs are very good in this wild and rich tart), mix with a small pot of Crème Fraiche and a dollop of milk.  Pour the egg mix up to the edges of the tart and cook for about twenty to thirty minutes at 180C, or until the egg is cooked.  The quiche should be starting to brown on top and risen in the middle.

DANDELION – Taraxacum officianalis

The name comes from the French “dents-de-lion” (lion’s teeth) due to the toothed leaves.  The French actually call the plant “pissenlit” (wet-the-bed), as it is a well-known diuretic.  As well as a diuretic, Dandelion is a versatile detox.  In tea or tincture it is good for the liver and kidneys, as well as for the bladder and it is used by those suffering from anaemia.  It can be eaten raw, picked green or blanched (grown in the dark – easy to do at home, under a bucket, as rhubarb, endive…), and again, stir-fryed, steamed, added to soups, casseroles or stir-frys.

A favourite memory of feasting on dandelions was in France, where they are quite a common form of sustenance.  As the first swallows sailed in to announce Spring we picked great handfuls of dandelions and served them as they were, the leaves and the flowers, bathed in vinaigrette, tossed only with a few compulsory lardons and a baguette, spread on a table in the sun on the side of a village road.

  

Dandelion Salad

Use the youngest and most vibrant dandelion leaves.  Cut out the stalks of any larger ones as they can be bitter.  Toss in vinaigrette.  Add lardons if desired.  Finish with a mass of flowerheads.  Serve when the swallows arrive for a glorious sun-shone spring salad.

SEA BEET – Beta vulgaris sp. maritima

Growing on the edge of the marshes, and along the coast, Sea Beet is a staple spring green.  Recognised by its thick, fleshy leaves, shaped as arrowheads in a rosette, it can grow into a large shrub.  Although it is apparent year round, in Spring it provides an early source of substantial greens.  It has a good texture and rich flavour and is used like spinach in a variety of recipes.   Blanche it, steam it, stir fry, wilt or fill tarts with it.  Or serve with fish or shellfish to continue the coastal theme.

Stir-fryed Sea-Beet.

Stir fry young sea-beet leaves with onions, garlic and caraway seeds in olive oil.  At the last minute douse with Tamari and Balsamic Vinegar.  Serve on its own or on the top of Puy Lentils with a spoonful of yogurt.

Winter Roots - Oca, Salsify, Jerusalem Artichoke

Vaguely untimely, this article appeared in Permaculture Magazine, (67, Spring 2011), Part 2 to follow shortly...

Wearied of frostbitten greens, sprouts and mincemeat, pickles and preserves, the temptation is to plunge, without a glance backward, into the onset of Spring.  I would first like to offer one last eulogy to winter vegetables, to three of the less common and more remarkable tubers, hoarded in the dank depths of the vegetable underworld.

JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE, OCA and SALSIFY

These, beside their ruddy counterparts, are the rockstars of the roots: sultry, elegant, with extravagant tastes, ebullient spirits…  But this isn’t about their looks.  Stubby, grubby and hairy, they are the sweetest, the most delicate flavoured, most exotic of the roots.

JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE – Helianthus tuberosus

Towering eight-feet-high in triffid-esque arrogance, the stalks nodding with yellow flowerheads at the height of Summer, the Jerusalem Artichoke, also known as the Sunchoke, is related to the Sunflower.  Indeed, the name Jerusalem is thought to come from a confusion with the original name, originating in Peru, the Girasol. They are one of the most labour-free plants to grow, and if a few tubers are left in the ground when harvesting, will provide a crop the following year.  Unfortunately, the Jerusalem Artichoke is famed for being the cause of foul wind and tortuous flatulence – I have yet to hear of a sure-fire remedy.  But their sweet, delicate flavour, reminiscent of artichokes, keeps me growing and eating them.  As for the baneful after-effects I have a couple of suggestions.  Don’t eat Jerusalem Artichokes in large quantities and try and combine them with herbs and spices that ease digestion such as fennel, bay and cumin.  I also take the time to first peel and blanche the vegetables in acidulated water (add vinegar or lemon-juice), which is then discarded, in an attempt to lessen the effects. 

You can roast, soup and mash Jerusalem artichokes, or eat them raw as, somewhat surprisingly, you can most roots… Their reputation has taken a recent upturn and they are to be found, in the form of diaphanous Soufflés and Veloutés, in the very highest realms of haute cuisine.

Jerusalem Artichoke Purée

Purée Jerusalem Artichokes for a jazzed-up variation on mashed potatoes.  Peel, then boil in acidulated water with a potato.  When beginning to fall apart, drain and blend with butter and black pepper.

Jerusalem Artichoke Salad

For the sassiest raw Winter salad.  Slice very thinly, cover immediately with lemon juice to prevent discolouring.  Add walnut oil and toss with toasted walnuts.  Sprinkle with chives or an available green.

SALSIFY- Tragopogon porrifolius

Salsify, or Scorzanera – the two varieties vary only slightly – can be planted in Autumn for a Winter harvest.  A showering grass-like fountain above ground, Salsify tapers to a long hairy root.  It is related to the Jerusalem Artichoke but, fortunately, did not inherit the side effects.  Its taste is light and difficult to define, somewhere between oysters, chestnut and coconut.  It can be put in gratin, and the Irish chef Dennis Cotter, of Café Paradiso renown, braises it with star anise...  I think, as with all these delicate roots, it’s best as it is.

Salsify as it is

Boil unpeeled for twenty to thirty minutes in acidulated water (it exudes a sticky, milky sap and discolours).  Once cooked slip off the skin and add a squeeze of lemon juice or Umeboshi seasoning for a breathtaking combination.  A nut-oil or a knob of butter gives a gentler flavour.  Serve warm with salt and pepper to taste. 

OCA – Oxalis tuberosa

Oca, long unknown, has likewise recently hit the headlines of haute cuisine.  The tubers are planted like potatoes in Spring and grow slowly to be harvested in the depths of Winter.  A shrub of shamrock shaped leaves and pretty yellow flowers, it originates in Latin America.  The leaves and flowers are edible and make pretty additions to Summer salads, but the plant is high in oxalic-acid so beware of gorging!

Oca on the table

Like a lemon-scented new potato in the depths of December, the tuber is a welcome addition to the Winter table.  Serve as new potatoes for that Summer zing, roast in their skins with garlic and rosemary for a taste of Italy, or cook up with cinnamon, ground ginger and orange rind for a festive feel. 

The throes of the Hungry Gap...?

 

Asparagus, Broccoli, Red Celery, Leeks, Lemon-Balm, Sage, Rosemary, Marjoram, Chives, Eggs.

As we prise ourselves away, out of the torrid grip of said epoch, I am obliged to ponder the notion of this era bereft of nourishment.. indeed, as I fill yet another trug from the bountiful belly of an early Spring garden, I revoke it.

The wild greens started early, with Ransoms, and Dandelions, Nettles, Sorrel, Sea Beet in full green bloom in February… after the Spring Equinox when the roots in the ground start to turn to seed, the Leeks and Celery still sat around, and Watercress began to fill the streams (forager beware: Liver fluke), Lovage, Marjoram, Herb Patience and Fennel springing up in the garden… and now, oh prolific Purple Sprouting Broccoli abounds and, blessed days, the Asparagus are rousing, poking their dreamy heads through the straw in overnight spurts of growth.

Broccoli and Asparagus plucked and, I insist, taken without a moment’s hesitation, to the table are more akin to foods of the gods than meagre offerings of a time of famished spirits.

And in homage to these simple-yet-unearthly Spring shoots, I pray, do not then drown them in suddy boiling water, nor adulterate them in the depths of chaotic menus, the art is in allowing the essence of these vegetables to emerge.

Steam or lightly blanche the Asparagus and/or Broccoli and serve on the raw-side of cooked,  still-warm on a salad of (aforementioned) wild herbs with a squeeze of lemon, a drip of oil… for the vinaigrette-o-phile: a simple Balsamic Vinaigrette, for the glutton: Sea-Salted Butter or a home-made Hollandaise Sauce whisked with the yolks of today’s eggs, for the outdoorsy: grill the Asparagus on an open fire by night...

Ramsons: the word is out.

They appeared a month back, awakening the woodland on the edge of Ragman’s Lane Farm in Gloucestershire.  Then in Norfolk the woods and gardens started billowing.  On Clare Island a tiny planted patch had spread providing a lush early spring ground-cover just outside the kitchen window of the old cottage.  I blogged about it in Pestos and Vinaigrettes, The Outdoor Lab put it in Potato Dauphinoise and Bacon Sarnies, I ate it in secretive, unblogged Omelettes… In Ireland I chopped it with nettles into a raw Jerusalem Artichoke Salad, then I chopped it into Christophe’s dreamy Raw Cow’s Cheese for breakfast, and then into raw Parsnip and Apple Salad.  Suddenly Food Urchin did a mammoth Garlic blog, comprising of a traditional Pesto, a Soup, a very photogenic and doubtless palatable Bread… and then, out of the blue, the EDP featured a Celeriac Soup with Wild Garlic Puree.

The scavengers’ secret is a secret no more.  Fortunately there is plenty to go round, and a few months still remaining of the season… Ramsons or Wild Garlic can be recognised by its flat rounded blades of leaves, its tiny starry white flowers on a long stalk, and of course its pungent garlic smell.  

Celeriac Soup with Wild Garlic Puree (EDP March 26^th 2011)

(abbreviated)

50g Plain Flour

50g Butter

1kg Celeriac, peeled and cut into chunks.

2 lt Veg stock [make your own!]

350g Onions

350g Celery

3 Garlic cloves

350ml Double Cream

Cook celeriac in stock.  Separately fry up rest of ingredients except cream.  Add Celeriac, Stock and blend.  Heat adding cream, on a low heat.

Wild Garlic Puree

Bunch of Wild Garlic

500ml Olive Oil

Salt
Lemon Juice

Rapidly blanche Garlic.  Shake off most of water.  Blend drizzling Olive Oil into mixture.  Add squeeze garlic pinch of salt.  Blend adding rest of Olive Oil to nice green purée.  Swirl into Soup at last minute and add chopped Wild Garlic Leaves.

Celeriac should be out of the ground now, as the Spring Equinox has passed and it will go to seed.  It can however still be stored in a cool, dry place with air circulating.

I will post the aforementioned Raw Salad recipes on a later occasion… keep an eye out.

(Also to look out for now:  Young Nettle Tops, early Plantain leaves, Sea-Beet, Dandelions – beginning to flower, Wild Sorrel – arrow shaped heads in pastures and, apparently, disused railway lines, Watercress, Jack-by-the-hedge, Goosegrass, Good-King Henry… to name but a few.)

Sourdough Skill-Share

Camilla Storm's lovely pictures of Sourdough Skill-Sharing on Patrick Whitefield's Sustainable Land Use Course at Ragman's Lane Farm in Gloucestershire.

And some comments once back home:

I would like to report a thoroughly successful sour dough experience in my kitchen! I was worried the starter may explode on the hot train journey, but it endured and Doug is fully won over on the lovely loaves :) thanks so much ladies - the mother dough lineage continues! (Cari)

I have also had a great time with the bread, and passed the skill on to my daughters (and blogged about it here should anybody be interested)  and they love the bread and have been extolling its virtues at school! (Jackie)

I have used your sour dough with my conventional process (not wet) and it has worked very well producing a delicious bread. (M)
 
Made up some bread last weekend but managed to badly burn it in the electric oven. Trying again this weekend, in the AGA, after I've cleaned the burner. (R)

Photographs courtesy of Camilla Storm

Sourdough-a-dough-dough

 

Sourdough Muffins chez Ed 'n' Ali

 

Banqueting yester’ eve with permacultural friends, Ali and Ed, so-sadly-so-soon fleeing the county, ‘midst the household gifts offered in flight, (hosepipe, tentpoles, belt, all of utter usefulness) a screw-top jar of: Rye Sourdough Starter.

This starter is reputed to be over twenty years old, gleaned from deepest Russia by Andrew Whitley (of chef-d’oeuvre Bread Matters), gifted through many hands, to now reach my own. 

I have stirred it up (Starter, Organic Rye Flour, Water, Salt) into a very wet mix, and it sits rising downstairs.  Rye is low in gluten so doesn’t have to be kneaded and stretched like high-gluten doughs, and as Mr Whitley says, it turns out like concrete unless it is very wet…

Only a fortnight before had I first tasted this Rye Sourdough, and fallen to my knees in a plea for a fistful of the stuff, on that occasion Ed had solved the issue of wet-sourdough rolls by stuffing the wed-kneaded dough into muffin trays…(see pic)

Slow-risen the flavour develops fully, the Rye has sharp nutty taste and the sourness gives it a real depth, like a blackbread of Eastern Europe.

Last night’s loaves had hollow backs, they had slightly sunk in cooking.  After some amateur troubleshooting we decided the dough had over-risen. 

 

Recognise over-risen sourdough by a very bubbly surface that is starting to drape and looks as though were you to stick your finger in, or shake the loaf-tin, the whole thing would collapse.

Tomato Chilli Cinnamon Chutney, a note on experimentation.

With experimental preserving, the tendency is to concoct a certain food on one inspired day, to eat it several months later and in the mean time to have forgotten what impulsion gave rise to said concoction.

There is but one way:  A very meticulous method of noting down experiments and recipes (step 1) is imperative, to be  followed by a taking down of results: tasting notes/success or otherwise (step 2) in order that processes may be repeated, altered, improved etc…

All too oft’ I find myself wondering yet another time how on earth I had preserved a certain jar of tomatoes, or what quantities of salt I had used in that perfect sauerkraut.

There are many methods and each to his own, I love to write the recipe on the label of the jar, but 'tis utterly impractical, tending to have faded or run when eventually the preserve is tasted.

All this to say: 

On Clare Island, in the depths of the stores:  a small jar of last year’s Tomato Chilli Cinnamon Chutney.  An eccentric experiment, that had now had time to mature.

And what a chutney!  The sweetness of the Summer-ripened tomatoes was picked up by the Cinnamon and then, all at once, a sharp chilli bite… it spread thick like butter and deep rusty red, it was quite the marvel of the crowd.

For once, I had written the recipe down, and still had to hand the little book I had inscribed it in, here it is:

Tomato Chilli Cinnamon Chutney, an experiment.

3lb of the Tomato glut (eat your best and ripest raw and sweet, use the rest for chutney)

1 lb Onions

1 lb Demarara

1 pt Vinegar

3-6 Chillies (according to strength)

2-3 Sticks of Cinnamon (ground)

Bring the lot to the boil.

Reduce, simmering and stirring till thick and sludgy. (a spoon should stand up in it)

Pot in Sterilised Jars.

Allow to mature several months, then gorge with friends.

Chillies on Clare Island

An 'elpful 'int from 'Arry

oho, I have tales to tell... a week away in the West of Ireland and I am brimming... tales of such ebullient gastronomy I can bare withhold... but first, a note from Harry's pantry: 

 

POMEGRANATE and ORANGE BLOSSOM VINEGAR

 

i thought you might be interested in the attached and wonder if you've come across it before? i bought it at a lebanese stall the other day, and it's truly delicious. the ingredients look pretty straightforward, so no doubt you could make your own - white wine vinegar, pomegranate molasses, sugar and orange blossom water - and i'm having fun experimenting with it in salads, with oils, dressing grilled meats and sometimes just a nip from the bottle. complex and sprightly, it's magic stuff. and of course a little goes a long way.

p.s. and have you ever had a spoonful of madeira in your porridge for breakfast? if not, do!

Rumtopf

A great Germanic tradition of preserving fruits is: the Rumtopf.  Literally meaning “Pot of Rum”, it is a large ceramic jar in which fresh Fruits, Rum and Sugar are layered throughout the spring, summer and autumn seasons.  A plate is placed on the fruits to keep them below the level of the liquid, the jar is lidded and they are allowed to slowly mature.   The sweet rum-saturated fruits are then eaten in the depths of winter… a lovely, low-energy way to preserve those summer glutss.  We are just finishing last year’s pot in readiness for the coming seasons…

To 1lb of fruit add up to ½ lb of sugar and cover well with rum.

(try with: Gooseberries, Blackcurrants, Redcurrants, Whitecurrants, Strawberries, Loganberries, Jostaberries, Raspberries…)

Look out for traditional Rumtopf pots in charity shops, flea-markets and carboot sales, or make your own – I’m sure a foodsafe bucket or a plugged flowerpot would do... and ready yourself for the harvest.

A Figgy Pudding

The resurgence of cold nights and dawn frosts the last few days has offered a welcome opportunity to think once more about Puddings… to delve once more into the Store cupboards.  This recipe for storing Figs is a real favourite, and perfect for those not-quite-sweet-enough, not-quite-ripe-enough late-Summer Figs common to our climate.  I’ll blog about this more come Fig season, but for now, because it is sweet, sticky, figgy and utterly sublime…

The recipe actually comes from an American blog my mother found.  Here it is adapted to suit the British pantry…

1lb Figs

¼ lb Sugar

¼ lb Honey

1 Vanilla Pod

1 Lemon

Glass of Whisky

Halve Figs and place in an earthenware bowl with a split Vanilla Pod.  Douse in local Honey, Lemon Juice, a spoonful of Sugar and leave to macerate, covered at room temperature, for an hour or so.  Then gently move the Figs and liquid to a pan and bring to a simmer.  Return to the bowl and leave overnight in the fridge.  The following day strain off the liquid into a pan.  Add a glass of Scotch Whisky to the mix, flambé or boil off the alcohol, add the Figs again, simmer briefly.  Pour into preserving jars, chopping the Vanilla Pods into each one.  Close tightly, will keep for at least a year.  Serve with a home-made scoop of ice-cream as a sumptuous end to a dinner party, or indulge alone on those frosty winter nights.

The quantities given are a rough guideline as to the amounts.  I think this Summer I will try a version with more local ingredients.  We have our own Honey, and Norfolk now produces its own Whisky, perhaps with a dash of apple juice for the acidity...

The Great Garlic Forage

'tis indeed the season, and those wild about garlic are surging into the woodlands to forage the bounty of the woodland floor - besides my own below, there are some great Wild Garlic Recipes just posted on The Outdoor Lab...

Fundamental Food Storage

Don't miss: Sharon Astyk on the fundamentals of Food Storage... how to, and how not to...

Newbie Food Storage on the Cheap

Wild Green Pesto

The ancient woodland to the South of Ragman’s Lane Farm, sloping down to the River Wye is a haven – gnarling trees, a floor of Beech leaves, Hart’s Tongue Ferns, Dog’s Mercury, Lords and Ladies, and a variety of Mosses, a stone pathway the route of the old tram, meandering, the promise of Bluebells, and suddenly, in the last week, the Ramsons… in abundance the leaves piercing out of the ground to colour the floor a vibrant pale green.

Tonight a dusk forage – the last few days we have been feasting on Pestos of young Nettle tops and today we decided to add the Wild Garlic to the concoction.

 Cari blending...

(this can be done by hand, and has a lovely texture but for large numbers it is easier in a blender)

Nettle and Wild Garlic Pesto

Blend a bowlful of Nettles with the same of Ransoms (Wild Garlic) in Olive Oil and add Seasalt and toasted Sunflower Seeds (whole) for a Wild Green Vegan Pesto to serve on Pasta, bake into Breads, shake into Vinaigrette, spread on Toast… even eat by the spoonful!

 Store pesto covered well in oil in an airtight jar, stores for at least six months.