During the first real conversation my man and I had, I asked him what he would cook a new girlfriend. He answered "lamb joint with garlic" and the first seeds of a crush were sown.
We got together five months later and have been together for two years now. He has cooked me maybe ten meals in that time, each and every one of them based on sauce from a jar. Broccoli in sauce, chicken in sauce, pasta in sauce, but not a roast in sight. I figured he'd just been trying to impress me and wasn't actually much of a cook. No big deal, since I am always happy to do the cooking. In fact, I thought it was sweet he'd tried to woo me even then and gave him credit for saying precisely the right thing. Nothing like a man who can read your mind.
Still, yesterday's discovery came as a bit of a shock: my man owns herbs and spices. A whole bag of them. I was in his kitchen, brushing my teeth, when a plastic bag caught my eye. I had a little snoop, as you do. There, in that innocent-looking bag, they were: oregano, tyme, paprika and quite a few more. Plus things like bread crumbs, flour and semolina. A whole world of culinary activity that I had never known about!
Guess what is going to change around these here parts? I'm already dreaming of lamb roasts with garlic and home-made semolina pudding. In the mean time, I'll share one of his sauce-in a jar specialties with you; because it is actually quite tasty.
My man's chicken-cherry-curry
2 chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces
a little oil for frying
1 clove of garlic, minced
small jar of mild curry sauce
chili paste to taste
½ cup of crème fraiche
1 tbsp of capers
ready-made croissant dough
¼ cup of grated cheese
Preheat oven to 220C. Fry the chicken in the oil until just done. Add garlic and fry until it starts to smell nice and garlic doesn't look raw anymore. Add a small dab of chili paste (you can add more later if you like). Mix well, add curry sauce and crème fraiche. Mix again, add cherries and capers and give a final good stir.
Take a baking dish that will comfortably hold all chicken-curry mixture and line the bottom and sides with the croissant dough, sealing any gaps as you go. Make sure you leave enough dough to cover the top of the dish. Put the chicken mixture in the dish. (Yes, the dough will be soggy if you add the sauce while it is still raw, but in a pillowy, dumpling-like way that is not unpleasant. Also, my man doesn't do pre-baking.) Cover the chicken mixture with the remaining dough and cut a few slits so steam can escape. Sprinkle with cheese and bake for about 15 to 20 minutes or until dough is golden and has puffed up.
Serve hot, with a side of plain ice-berg lettuce, if you're my man.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Leaves on my plate
Oh yeah, fall has started. I've had the heating on for the first time this year, leaving the house without an umbrella means grave danger for my Uggs and my potted fig looks like its leaves have been dipped in caramel. I'm okay with this. Anything that gives me an excuse to brew hot chocolate and wear my hooded sweater is good in my books. I am not, however, happy to say goodbye to summer.
Who is, when we have to say goodbye to tomatoes, melon and asparagus. And berries, gorgeous berries. So I bought a box of raspberries the other week, challenging summer to stick around for just a little longer. Yeah, bad idea. "Sour" does not do them justice. Yesterday's idea was better: marry fall and summer into a salad.
Summer brought young salad leaves to the altar, and a sprinkling of parsley. Fall came bearing mushrooms and a sturdy piece of beef. With a few extras (oil, vinegar, parmesan, pine nuts and butter) the match was sealed deliciously. A perfect bridge between two seasons. Now, if I could only find a way to shield my Uggs from the autumn rains as effectively.
Autumn salad
piece of steak
2 handfuls oyster mushrooms, torn into big pieces
1 bag of salad leaves
small handful of parsley, finely chopped
1 tbsp butter
splash of olive oil, plus more for dressing
vinegar for dressing
1 clove of garlic, peeled and crushed under the blade of a heavy knife
2 tbsp pine nuts, toasted
3 tbsp parmesan, finely grated
Mix oil and vinegar to make a mellow dressing. Put in garlic and leave to marinate while you prepare salad.
Heat butter and oil in skillet, add steak when the mixture is hot. Fry quickly on both sides to give a dark crust, then lower heat to finish cooking to the degree of doneness you like. Take the steak out of the pan, cover to keep warm. Fry mushrooms in the same pan, mixing them throroughly with the lovely juices in the pan. Take the garlic from the dressing and add it to the pan; continue to fry until mushrooms are soft.
Dress salad leaves with dressing, sprinkle with parmesan and mix thoroughly. Scatter over pine nuts. Salt steak and slice into thick strips. Arrange mushrooms on salad leaves, top with steak slices and serve.
Who is, when we have to say goodbye to tomatoes, melon and asparagus. And berries, gorgeous berries. So I bought a box of raspberries the other week, challenging summer to stick around for just a little longer. Yeah, bad idea. "Sour" does not do them justice. Yesterday's idea was better: marry fall and summer into a salad.
Summer brought young salad leaves to the altar, and a sprinkling of parsley. Fall came bearing mushrooms and a sturdy piece of beef. With a few extras (oil, vinegar, parmesan, pine nuts and butter) the match was sealed deliciously. A perfect bridge between two seasons. Now, if I could only find a way to shield my Uggs from the autumn rains as effectively.
Autumn salad
piece of steak
2 handfuls oyster mushrooms, torn into big pieces
1 bag of salad leaves
small handful of parsley, finely chopped
1 tbsp butter
splash of olive oil, plus more for dressing
vinegar for dressing
1 clove of garlic, peeled and crushed under the blade of a heavy knife
2 tbsp pine nuts, toasted
3 tbsp parmesan, finely grated
Mix oil and vinegar to make a mellow dressing. Put in garlic and leave to marinate while you prepare salad.
Heat butter and oil in skillet, add steak when the mixture is hot. Fry quickly on both sides to give a dark crust, then lower heat to finish cooking to the degree of doneness you like. Take the steak out of the pan, cover to keep warm. Fry mushrooms in the same pan, mixing them throroughly with the lovely juices in the pan. Take the garlic from the dressing and add it to the pan; continue to fry until mushrooms are soft.
Dress salad leaves with dressing, sprinkle with parmesan and mix thoroughly. Scatter over pine nuts. Salt steak and slice into thick strips. Arrange mushrooms on salad leaves, top with steak slices and serve.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Ugg
There's a new love in my life: a pair of chocolate brown Ugg boots. They're soft and warm and wonderful. And beautiful. The old love in my love doesn't agree. This is what happened after I brought my Uggs home last night:
Old love, aka J: “What's that on your feet?"
L: “Uggs!”
J: “No? Seriously?”
L: “Yes, really.”
J: ”Oh. I'll have a proper look later, when I am wearing my glasses.”
This morning:
J: “Hey, there are snow boots in the living room.”
L: “No, those are my Uggs. Aren't they pretty?”
J: “Uhm… I can't really tell. I'm not wearing my glasses.” (Disappears into shower.)
Later this morning:
L: “Look, these are my new Uggs.” (Leg in the air, meaningful glances over at the coffee table where old love's glasses are perched.)
J: (Puts glasses on.) *silence* “Nice.”
L: “You don't like them, do you? You're a guy. Guys don't like them.”
J: *silence*
Old love, aka J: “What's that on your feet?"
L: “Uggs!”
J: “No? Seriously?”
L: “Yes, really.”
J: ”Oh. I'll have a proper look later, when I am wearing my glasses.”
This morning:
J: “Hey, there are snow boots in the living room.”
L: “No, those are my Uggs. Aren't they pretty?”
J: “Uhm… I can't really tell. I'm not wearing my glasses.” (Disappears into shower.)
Later this morning:
L: “Look, these are my new Uggs.” (Leg in the air, meaningful glances over at the coffee table where old love's glasses are perched.)
J: (Puts glasses on.) *silence* “Nice.”
L: “You don't like them, do you? You're a guy. Guys don't like them.”
J: *silence*
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Cooking for the heart
I've had a few days off work (sort of), so I can be found in my kitchen even more regularly than normal. On Tuesday, I cooked and baked for the two women who raised me (not by themselves, my dad, for one, was intimately involved- but I wouldn't be me without them). There were stuffed portobello mushrooms and grilled asparagus for my mother after a day of hard work. And there were lemon sables for my great-aunt, who is in a home while she recovers from hip replacement surgery. Vegetables and cookies to show I care- food from the heart.
Today, it was just me and dinner wasn't so much from the heart as for the heart. I got " Cooking for a Healthy Heart" from the library when my ever-tightening pants told me it was time to Stop. Eating. The. Wrong. Thing. Right now. It's got quite a few lovely recipes (in spite of a tendency to consider vegetable spread an acceptable ingredient)- in fact, the caponata I described earlier as the first thing I cooked my man is from this book. Today, a recipe for salmon with lentils and dill caught my eye.
I've had a box of lentils sitting in my pantry since we got back from a holiday in France last year, stumped as to what to do with them. (Also, a little scared I wouldn't like them. They are Puy lentils, that everyone always loves and I don't like legumes in general. These were like a last-ditch attempt to teach myself to like this good-for-you food group. My experiment a few weeks ago to do the same with home-soaked chickpeas ended in a pan of inedible, black soup. But, uhm..., that might have had something to with the use of black pantyhose to make a bouquet garni. Nigella said nothing about using colorless pantyhose...) This recipe was my keep-my-fingers-crossed attempt at making something delicious from pulses.
And, boy, was I relieved. Even though the lentils had a bit of that mealy-ness I dislike so much, this dish was a keeper. Lentils brightened by a herby dressing, pieces of sweet roasted pepper and juicy salmon all mixed with a good dose of dill and spring onions. Tasty, healthy, lovely.
Lentils with salmon and dill
Adapted from " Cooking for a Healthy Heart" by Jacqui Lynas
125gr filleted salmon
1 red bell pepper, roasted, peeled and cut into bite-size pieces
50 gr of Puy lentils
handful of dill, finely chopped
2 spring onions, finely chopped (reserve a little to use as garnish)
lemon juice for sprinkling
dressing
small clove of garlic, peeled
handful basil leaves
handful dill
1 tsp mustard
1 pickled Turkish green pepper
juice of half a lemon
small glug of olive oil
Boil lentils according to package instructions (mine said to start with cold water, bring to a boil and cook for 25 minutes- but they were a bit mushy and could have used a little less time in the pot). In the mean time, make dressing by pounding all ingredients except oil together with mortar and pestle. When ingredients have turned to a bright green paste, add enough olive oil to make thick dressing.
Poach salmon until almost-done (please don't overcook). Drain lentils when done and immediately mix with dressing, bell pepper, dill and spring onions. Leave to stand for a while to allow lentils to soak up flavors. Add salmon, toss. Serve with a little extra spring onion on top.
Serves one
Grilled asparagus
Adapted from "Het Basiskookboek" published by Albert Heijn
Bunch of green asparagus
Olive oil
Lime juice
Nice, crunchy salt for sprinkling
Wash asparagus and break off bottom 2cm or so (no need to peel). Pat dry and sprinkle with about a tablespoon of olive oil. Toss asparagus to coat with the oil.
Heat a grilling pan to hot, put asparagus in pan. Turning them occassionally to brown on all sides, cook asparagus for eight minutes, or until tender when pierced with a fork.
Mix a good glug of olive oil with lime juice to taste to make a dipping sauce for asparagus. Sprinkle asparagus with a little salt and serve with dip on the side.
Today, it was just me and dinner wasn't so much from the heart as for the heart. I got " Cooking for a Healthy Heart" from the library when my ever-tightening pants told me it was time to Stop. Eating. The. Wrong. Thing. Right now. It's got quite a few lovely recipes (in spite of a tendency to consider vegetable spread an acceptable ingredient)- in fact, the caponata I described earlier as the first thing I cooked my man is from this book. Today, a recipe for salmon with lentils and dill caught my eye.
I've had a box of lentils sitting in my pantry since we got back from a holiday in France last year, stumped as to what to do with them. (Also, a little scared I wouldn't like them. They are Puy lentils, that everyone always loves and I don't like legumes in general. These were like a last-ditch attempt to teach myself to like this good-for-you food group. My experiment a few weeks ago to do the same with home-soaked chickpeas ended in a pan of inedible, black soup. But, uhm..., that might have had something to with the use of black pantyhose to make a bouquet garni. Nigella said nothing about using colorless pantyhose...) This recipe was my keep-my-fingers-crossed attempt at making something delicious from pulses.
And, boy, was I relieved. Even though the lentils had a bit of that mealy-ness I dislike so much, this dish was a keeper. Lentils brightened by a herby dressing, pieces of sweet roasted pepper and juicy salmon all mixed with a good dose of dill and spring onions. Tasty, healthy, lovely.
Lentils with salmon and dill
Adapted from " Cooking for a Healthy Heart" by Jacqui Lynas
125gr filleted salmon
1 red bell pepper, roasted, peeled and cut into bite-size pieces
50 gr of Puy lentils
handful of dill, finely chopped
2 spring onions, finely chopped (reserve a little to use as garnish)
lemon juice for sprinkling
dressing
small clove of garlic, peeled
handful basil leaves
handful dill
1 tsp mustard
1 pickled Turkish green pepper
juice of half a lemon
small glug of olive oil
Boil lentils according to package instructions (mine said to start with cold water, bring to a boil and cook for 25 minutes- but they were a bit mushy and could have used a little less time in the pot). In the mean time, make dressing by pounding all ingredients except oil together with mortar and pestle. When ingredients have turned to a bright green paste, add enough olive oil to make thick dressing.
Poach salmon until almost-done (please don't overcook). Drain lentils when done and immediately mix with dressing, bell pepper, dill and spring onions. Leave to stand for a while to allow lentils to soak up flavors. Add salmon, toss. Serve with a little extra spring onion on top.
Serves one
Grilled asparagus
Adapted from "Het Basiskookboek" published by Albert Heijn
Bunch of green asparagus
Olive oil
Lime juice
Nice, crunchy salt for sprinkling
Wash asparagus and break off bottom 2cm or so (no need to peel). Pat dry and sprinkle with about a tablespoon of olive oil. Toss asparagus to coat with the oil.
Heat a grilling pan to hot, put asparagus in pan. Turning them occassionally to brown on all sides, cook asparagus for eight minutes, or until tender when pierced with a fork.
Mix a good glug of olive oil with lime juice to taste to make a dipping sauce for asparagus. Sprinkle asparagus with a little salt and serve with dip on the side.
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