Simple as they come:
potatoes roasted with a bit of inner bay leaf

I was struck lately by the seemingly relentless drive to label the recipes found in many cookbooks and (their often accompanying) cookery programmes as “simple” and “fast” – from Nigel Slater’s Simple Suppers and Simple Cooking to Jamie Oliver’s 30 Minute Meals, and a whole host of others in between. They all, in one way or another, address the perception that, as a race, we 21st century consumers have less and less time to cook and less and less of the kitchen skills required but, ironically, more and more time to watch cookery on TV.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for simple and fast, and I have been known to watch my fair share of television cookery – but if, perhaps, there were more books and programmes that stepped back from recipes and concentrated on teaching skills and techniques, that might actually make things simpler and faster for us in the long run.

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Roast Potatoes With Bay Leaves

If simple’s what you want, then simple is what you’ll get with these spuds.

A couple of weeks back, I received a tweet from my good fried Jenni about “a tater thing” she’d made – namely a potato baked with bay leaf. It was, she declared, really, really good, an endorsement which placed it firmly on my must-make list. It also reminded me of a recipe in Eveleen Coyle’s Irish Potato Cookbook for roast potatoes with bay leaves which I’d been meaning to try. So finally, today, I did just that.

What you see below is Eveleen’s recipe, more or less, but the essence of it – and the technique that you need to remember – is that you cut a slit in a potato, insert a bay leaf and then roast or bake it, just as Jenni did. Simple, yes, and really, really good.

You’ll need:

• 800g baby potatoes (or any small, evenly-sized potatoes)
• salt, for parboiling the potatoes
• 2 tblsp olive oil (or substitute rapeseed oil)
• bay leaves, one for each potato
• coarse salt

You’ll also need:

• A roasting tin large enough to fit the potatoes in a single layer

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 200C
• Scrub the potatoes and leave them unpeeled.
• Bring a pot of about 1.5l water to the boil, add 2 tsp salt and the potatoes. Bring back to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer gently, covered, for about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow them to dry off and cool slightly.
• Add your oil to the roasting tin and place in the oven to heat.
• Cut a slit in each potato and insert a bay leaf.
• Remove your tin from the oven and toss the potatoes with the hot oil. Sprinkle with coarse salt and return to the oven. Roast for 35-45 minutes, until tender and browned. These are lovely on their own with some salt and butter or serve alongside any kind of roast meat – Eveleen Coyle notes that they are particularly good with game.

The Variations:

• Instead of roasting the potatoes in oil, you could do like Jenni did, and bake them without oil but with a little butter added into the slit along with the bay leaf.

The Results:

• This serves 3-4 as a side-dish

So, what exactly does one do with a load of Turkish pepper?

I’ve been wondering about that for past few weeks, ever since my brother, who’d been travelling in the Turkish neck of the woods, brought me a collection of randomly chosen local spices, most of which turned out to be pepper of some kind. There were small, maroon-coloured chilli flakes called isot biber or urfa biber (and not one, but two packets thereof), bright red chilli flakes labelled pul kirmizi biber, and karabiber, which I took to be ground white pepper but which I now suspect is more black peppery.

Part of my newly-acquired Turkish pepper stash

Whatever the nature of the individual peppers, though, the key point was that I now had rather a large quantity of them languishing in my cupboards. They might have continued that way for some time if not for the spotting, last week, of a potato recipe in the Guardian from Yotam Ottolenghi which called for Turkish chilli flakes or pul biber. Described in the piece as a classic Lebanese and Syrian take on roast potatoes, the recipe for batata harra had my name, and (I hoped) my pepper, written all over it.

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Middle Eastern Roasted Potatoes

The recipe below is an adaptation of Yotam Ottolenghi’s aforementioned formula for batata harra. The original calls for sweet red peppers to be roasted with the potatoes, whilst I have used cherry tomatoes instead – mostly because they were growing right outside my kitchen window. Also, while the recipe features the classic Lebanese trinity of lemon, garlic and olive oil, I’ve included a few other Middle Eastern regulars, in the shape of mint and sesame seeds, along with a helping of spring onions.

The other thing to say, of course, is that you don’t have to use Turkish chilli flakes in this recipe – you can always use other chilli flakes which will bring their own particular heat and flavour. The pul kirmizi biber which I used was like a hot paprika, but Syrian aleppo pepper, for example, would be fruitier and milder. Remember also that chilli flakes will vary in strength, as do people’s tolerances for heat, so adjust according to your taste and the chilli you’re using.

You’ll need:

• 1kg waxy salad potatoes, such as Charlotte, peeled or not as you prefer and chopped into approx. 2cm chunks
• 2 tblsp olive oil
• 2 tblsp sunflower or peanut oil
• coarse salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 500g cherry tomatoes, halved
• 6-8 cloves of garlic, crushed
• approx. 30g fresh coriander (leaves and stems), finely minced
• 1 tsp Turkish or other chilli flakes, or to taste
• 1 tsp sumac or more to taste (optional)
• zest of 1 lemon
• 1 tblsp lemon juice or to taste
• 4-6 spring onions, finely chopped
• 2 tblsp sesame seeds, toasted (optional)
• 1 tbslp chopped mint

You’ll also need:

• A large-ish roasting tray, big enough to accommodate the potato chunks in a single layer, or use 2 smaller trays; plus tin foil for lining

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 220C and line your roasting tray with foil
• Bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil (approx 1.5l water and 2 tsp salt). Add the potato chunks, return to the boil and boil gently for about 3 minutes. Drain well and then either let them sit, covered by a tea-towel, for about 5 minutes or place the saucepan over a low heat and stir the potatoes gently for a minute or so while they dry out.
• Toss the potatoes with the olive and sunflower oils and about 2 tsp coarse salt plus some black pepper.
• Spread the potatoes onto your roasting tray and place in the oven for about 10 minutes, then stir in the tomatoes and garlic, along with half of the coriander, the chilli flakes and the sumac (if using). Roast for another 20-30 minutes or until the potatoes are browned and tender.
• Tip the contents of the roasting tray into a large bowl and add the lemon zest, lemon juice, spring onions, toasted sesame seeds (if using) and more salt and pepper if need be. Serve warm or at room temperature on its own or perhaps with some fried fish, such as sea bass, and stir in the remaining coriander, as well as the mint just before serving.

The Variations:

• Of course you can give Ottolenghi’s original version a whirl, using red peppers in place of the cherry tomatoes.

The Results:

• Serves around 4 people as a warm salad or side dish.

It may surprise, or even shock you to learn that, in almost three years of writing this blog, and with its avowed affection for all things potato, that sweet potatoes have never been called for in any of the recipes published herein. Yep, that’s right, not once. Ever. Have a looksee and you’ll find that those other potatoes barely even warrant a mention.

It’s not that I don’t like sweet potatoes – quite the contrary – but, not being a common vegetable in these parts, they tend to be a bit of a rarity in my kitchen. The truth of the matter, frankly, is that I don’t think of them as potatoes at all. That, in turn, may have something to do with the fact that, botanically speaking, the two are not even closely related.

No, not the kind of potato I'm used to...

The sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas) hails from the Convolvulaceae family (now there’s a mouthful) and (if I may refer to it as such) the true potato (Solanum tuberosum) is a member of the family Solanaceae. When Columbus was doing his discovery of the Americas thing in 1492, he and his followers found the sweet potato cultivated as a staple throughout the Caribbean, where it was known as batatas. When the potato (which was known as papa in the Andes) was later brought across to Europe, their similar external appearance and underground nature caused the names of the two vegetables to become confused, and they have been joined in name, if not origin, ever since. It also has to be said that, related or not, they get along quite well on the dinner plate too.

I was reminded of that fact when I was perusing Catherine Fulvio’s new book, Catherine’s Family Kitchen. Included throughout the book (and possibly my favourite part of it) are her ’5 Ways With’ sections – suggestions for five quick and easy ways with things like soup, soda bread, pasta and mash. Unsurprisingly, most of the entries under mash are ones with which I was already familar – such as adding celeriac or roasted garlic, pesto or wasabi – but a mash of potato, sweet potato and lime was one I hadn’t tried, and so, in the interests of finally bringing the two potato worlds together, I thought it was about time that I should.

Hot off the presses: Catherine Fulvio's latest, with TV series to follow, starting September 9th

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Sweet Potato Mash

In Catherine’s book, her instructions are to simply to mix half and half potatoes and sweet potatoes, adding lime zest and juice, plus butter and cream. The recipe below adds little to that, other than to suggest specific quantities and to call for the addition of some cayenne pepper, which I think adds a nice extra dimension to the sweet and tangy whole.

Also, given that the dish combines white(-ish) potatoes, orange sweet potatoes and green lime zest, I didn’t miss the opportunity to give this a somewhat patriotic Irish presentation, by keeping aside some of the plain potato mash and lime zest so that they could be swirled in and sprinkled, respectively, for a bit of green, white and orange action.

To prepare the potatoes and sweet potatoes, you can boil or steam according to your preference – if you have a vegetable steamer that can accommodate multiple tiers, that’s probably the most convenient way to prepare both at the same time and using a single burner.

You’ll need:

• 400g potatoes, preferably a floury variety, boiled or steamed until fork tender
• 50g butter, melted
• 50-100ml milk (or cream if you prefer), warmed
• coarse salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 400g sweet potatoes, boiled or steamed until fork tender
• zest of 1 lime
• juice of 1/2 lime or to taste
• cayenne pepper to taste (optional)

You’ll also need:

• A ricer, though not essential, is definitely your friend when it come to mashing potatoes

The Steps:

• Put the cooked and still warm potatoes through a potato ricer, if you have one, or mash with a potato masher or fork.
• Add the melted butter to the potatoes and mix to combine, followed by about 50ml of the warmed milk (or cream), adding more if you prefer a looser consistency. Season to taste with coarse salt and black pepper and, if you like, set aside 4-5 tblsp of the mash to swirl in later.
• Mash the sweet potatoes (again you can use a ricer if you have one) and add to the rest of the potatoes, mixing well.
• Add about half of the lime zest to the potatoes and add lime juice to taste plus more salt if you think it needs it, along with a sprinkling of cayenne pepper if using.
• To serve, swirl in the reserved (white) mash and sprinkle with the remaining lime zest. Serve with roasted poultry, pork or, for an alternative take on bangers and mash, have it with some sausages and perhaps a red onion gravy.

The Variations:

• I think you could probably substitute carrots for the sweet potatoes here, for something that’s even more Irish in nature.

The Results:

• Serves around 4 people as a side dish

In France and in French cuisine, Parmentier is code for potatoes.

Find a dish adorned with that name and it’s bound to feature potatoes as its main ingredient. Antoine Augustin Parmentier, after whom such dishes are named, is somewhat of a hero when it comes to the potato in France. He was the man who, back in the late 18th century, was chiefly responsible for popularising the consumption of potatoes in that country. These days in Paris you’ll find an avenue and a metro stop which also bear his name. What’s more, if you’re a potato head like me, you’ll skip the Eiffel Tower and pay them a visit instead.

Avenue Parmentier, 11th Arrondissement, Paris

Taken prisoner by the Prussians for several years during the Seven Years War, Parmentier was fed almost exclusively on potatoes during his captivity. Far from being thoroughly sick of spuds by the time of his release in 1763, he took the fact that he was in very good health as a sign that potatoes weren’t half bad as foodstuffs go. A clever man and one of clearly excellent taste.

A pharmacist by trade, he later published several papers on the nutritional value of potatoes, including one entitled “Inquiry into Nourishing Vegetables That In Times Of Necessity Could Be Substituted For Ordinary Food”, which demonstrated that (a) he was not a man for short snappy titles and (b) spuds, at the time, were not considered ordinary food in France (and, in fact, by most of the French populus, not considered as food at all).

Around the Parmentier Metro Stop on Avenue Parmentier in Paris

At a time when food shortages were rife in Paris, Parmentier dedicated much time and effort to promoting the value of the potato as food, obtaining a royal seal of approval for the tuber in 1785 from the ill-fated Louis XVI. Potatoes were later declared to be the food of the French Revolution, available in quantity when all else was in short supply. For this, Parmentier was honoured by Napoleon, who made him one of the first members of his Legion d’Honneur.

Today he is still honoured, not just by the many places and foods which are named for him, but by the visitors to his grave in the Père Lachaise Cemetery. Look to the ledges of the tomb and you’re always likely to find some potatoes. Small but appropriate tokens of appreciation for the efforts of a true spud legend.

Parmentier's grave in the Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, complete with spuds

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Potatoes Parmentier

In a way, Potatoes Parmentier is almost like saying ‘Potatoes Potatoes’. The name typically refers to a dish consisting of small cubes of potato, fried or otherwise cooked in butter, with parsley and/or other herbs added. Bacon, onions or, really, whatever else you fancy, may be added too. This is fairly straightforward rendition of the dish, with plenty of fresh herbs and a bit of lemony zing.

You’ll need:

• 800g potatoes
• salt for parboiling the potatoes
• 2 cloves garlic, lightly crushed
• 3 tblsp melted clarified butter, divided
• 2 tblsp chopped flat leaf parsley
• 2 tblsp chopped coriander
• 2 tblsp chopped mint
• 0.5 tsp lemon zest
• squeeze of lemon juice, to taste
• coarse salt to taste
• freshly ground black pepper to taste

You’ll also need:

• One or more baking trays, large enough to hold the cubed potatoes in a single layer.

The Steps:

• Preheat the oven to 200C
• Scrub the potatoes and, leaving them unpeeled, chop into approx. 1cm cubes. Rinse well in cold water.
• Add the potato cubes to a saucepan, along with about 1.25l water, 1.5 tsp salt and the garlic cloves. Bring to a boil over a medium-high heat and, once boiling, lower the heat and simmer for about 2 minutes. Drain, removing the cloves of garlic, and return to the saucepan. Then either let them sit, covered by a tea-towel, for about 5 minutes or place the pan over a low heat and stir the potatoes gently for a minute or so while they dry out.
• Toss the potato cubes using about 2 tblsp of the melted clarified butter (reserving the rest of the butter for later). Spread the potato cubes onto baking trays and roast in the oven until lightly golden and crispy, around 30 minutes or so, giving the trays a good shake midway through cooking.
• When the potatoes are done, mix the chopped parsley, coriander and mint with the remaining melted butter and lemon zest and toss with the potatoes. Add coarse salt, black pepper and a sprinkle of lemon juice to taste and serve.

The Variations:

• Of course you can use olive or other vegetable oil in place of the clarified butter and add other mediterranean touches if you like.

The Results:

• Serves 3-4 as a side dish

Potato galette: the 'tayto' part of the deal

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s TaytoRiCo.

Say what?

Potatoes, rice, coconut and a late night conversation on twitter, ideas zipping between Jenni of Pastry Methods and Techniques in North Carolina, Tracey of Tangled Noodle in Manila and my good self in Dublin. With a tip of the hat to each of our food loves, we concocted the idea of making a dish with spuds for me, rice and coconut for Tracey and (could it be done?) something sweet and pastry-like for Jenni. Thus #TaytoRiCo was born.

Some failed experiments later (including the dense-as-all-hell starchbomb that was the TaytoRiCo loaf) this is where the wheel stopped spinning for me: coconut rice on a potato galette, topped with, well, whatever you like, though I used prawns (because nobody said you couldn’t use prawns). Not quite the trip to pastryland I’d hoped for, but a happy little 3-way union all the same.

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Coconut Rice Bites on Potato Galette

Hands up. I admit that this is cheating, kind of. At least, it’s an utter cheat’s version of coconut rice, because I made it by simply adding some coconut milk to cooked rice. With more foresight, I would have cooked the rice in coconut milk and probably infused it with some interesting Asian flavours, but, as it was, I had cooked rice and coconut milk left over from another, less successful, TaytoRiCo experiment, so that’s what I used, along with a squirt of sriracha, because that just makes everything better.

You’ll need:

• 1 potato galette (see recipe below)
• 150g cooked long grain rice, white or brown as you prefer (I used basmati)
• 3 tblsp coconut milk
• 2 tsp sriracha (or other chilli garlic sauce), or to taste
• pinch of salt
• 100g cooked prawns

The Steps:

• Prepare the potato galette as per the recipe below.
• Mash together the cooked rice, coconut milk, sriracha and salt to taste.
• Slice the potato galette into 6 or 8 wedges using a sharp knife or a pizza wheel.
• Divide the coconut rice among the galette wedges and top with prawns. Eat and enjoy.

The Variations:

• I rather fancy replacing the prawns with some cooked crab meat, though any number of other toppings would work as well, like cooked chicken or perhaps banana for something a little sweeter.

The Results:

• Serves 2-4 as a light bite or starter

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Potato Galette

This is really just a thin version of Crusty Potatoes Anna, with 2 layers of potato slices, brushed with clarified butter and baked in a hot oven until golden and crispy.

You’ll need:

• 1 small-ish potato, preferably floury, around 125g-150g
• 1-1.5 tblsp clarified butter, melted
• coarse salt
• freshly ground black pepper

You’ll also need:

• A mandoline or other implement for slicing the potato very thinly plus a heavy, preferably non-stick, pan, around 24cm diameter, that can be used both on the stove-top and in the oven.

The Steps:

• Preheat the oven to 200C
• Wash the potatoes and pat dry. If you like, you can peel the potatoes for this dish or just leave the skins on (which I prefer). Cut the potatoes into very fine slices, around 1mm thick if possible.
• Butter the pan generously with some of the melted clarified butter.
• Arrange a single layer of potato slices on the base of the pan in a circular or spiral pattern, starting at the middle of the pan and working outward with overlapping slices.
• Brush this layer with more clarified butter and sprinkle with some salt and pepper.
• Add a second layer and brush with any remaining butter.
• On the stovetop, bring the potatoes to a sizzle over a medium-high heat. Transfer to the oven and bake for 15-20 minutes or until the potatoes are golden and crispy – the exact amount of time needed will depend on your oven and the thickness of the potatoes.
• Once done, give the pan a good shake to loosen any bits that may be stuck to the bottom (if it’s not a non-stick pan). Remove the galette to a plate or board where you can slice it into wedges and eat as is or topped with whatever you fancy.

The Variations:

• Add a scattering of chopped fresh thyme, rosemary or other herbs between the 2 potato layers according to your taste.

The Results:

• One 24cm galette.

Cullen skink and cock-a-leekie, forfar bridies and clootie dumplings.

Och aye, a Scottish menu, even if you should understand nary a syllable, is nevertheless a pleasure to the ears. And I expect you’ll find Scottish menus aplenty this week, both in Scotland and elsewhere, as Burns Night, the annual celebration of Scotland’s national bard, rolls around this coming Tuesday.

Whilst haggis is the centrepiece of a Burns Night supper, you’re likely to find me diving fork-first into bashed neeps and champit tatties, the mashed turnips and potatoes that traditionally sit alongside. The turnip and potatoes are usually cooked separately, though the dish below, bearing another champion Scottish name, clapshot, combines them into one. Enjoy and here’s tae ye.

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Clapshot

This is a fairly traditional rendition of Orkney clapshot, with the addition of a little mustard and lemon juice. To save inevitable confusion, let me clarify that what I call a turnip is what’s commonly called a swede in England, a turnip (or neep) in Scotland and a rutabaga in the US. It’s yellow-fleshed and sweet.

Meanwhile, if you’d like to try something really different with your neeps and tatties, you could do worse than take a peek at what I did neeps-and-tattie-wise last year.

You’ll need:

• 400g potatoes (about 2 medium-sized, preferably floury)
• 400g yellow turnip (swede / rutabaga)
• 1 small onion (about 100g), finely chopped
• salt
• 25g butter
• 2 tblsp chopped chives
• freshly ground black pepper
• 0.5 tsp dijon mustard
• squeeze of lemon juice

You’ll also need:

• A masher is useful, though a fork will do for mashing either

The Steps:

• Scrub and peel the potatoes and chop into roughly even-sized 2cm-ish chunks.
• Scrub and peel the turnip and chop into chunks around the same size as the potatoes.
• Add the potatoes, turnip and chopped onion to a saucepan, cover with boiling water and add about 1.5 tsp salt. Bring to the boil and then cover, lower the heat and simmer gently until the vegetables are just fork tender – about 15 to 20 minutes. Drain off the water, then either let them sit, covered by a tea-towel, for about 5 minutes or place the pan over a low heat and stir gently for a minute or so while they dry out.
• Cut the butter into 4 or 5 pieces and stir into the potatoes and turnip while still hot. Add the mustard and mash everything together well using either a masher or a fork.
• Stir in the chives and season to taste with salt, black pepper and a squeeze or two of lemon juice.
• Serve up with haggis as part of your Burn’s Night feasting or just try it as a slightly sweeter alternative to your regular mashed spuds.

The Variations:

• You could add some cream or milk to the mash if you like. You could also mix in some grated cheddar cheese and use it to top a meaty or veggie pie.

The Results:

• Serves 4-6 as a side dish

Good grief, you hardly thought I would let Christmas go by without tackling the subject of roasties, now, did you?

Proper roast potatoes. It just ain't Christmas dinner without 'em.

Though I may have spouted on at some length on the topic of roast potatoes last year, my 12-step roastie program didn’t really address the question of how our most popular potato varieties stack up when it comes to roasting. I’m here today to fix that.

Inspired somewhat by last year’s piece in the Guardian Word of Mouth blog which compared three varieties of British potato, roasted using formulae from four well-known chefs, I loosened my belt and set about the task of roasting several different kinds of Irish spud.

Step one was a trip to my local fruit-and-veg emporium…

Shopping locally: 'Tops In Pops' in Dublin's Drumcondra

Given that my homegrown potatoes are long gone, I am doubly appreciative of the fact that I can source five different varieties of Irish-grown potato at this little shop, not five minutes walk from my house.

Sounds good to me...

The potatoes on sale in this little outlet are representative of the ones you’re most likely to find in this country at this time of year: Rooster, which are by far the most commonly available spud in Ireland these days, followed by Kerr’s Pink, along with Records, Maris Piper and the not-so-commonly-grown-but-fabulous Golden Wonder. My line-up of roastie candidates was thus set, so off to the kitchen with me.

The 5 would-be roasties:
Rooster, Golden Wonder, Maris Piper, Records and Kerr's Pink

The basic roasting method used in all cases was as set out in some detail in last year’s post, and can be summarised as follows:

For the fat, I experimented with olive oil, groundnut oil and clarified butter. Of course, many folks swear by goose fat or duck fat, so use that, if that’s your thing.

And the results? Well…

• Maris Piper: These were the worst of the lot. They had a soggy interior and, even though the outsides browned nicely, were not crisp. Disappointing.
• Golden Wonder: The driest and flouriest of all. They roughed up better, were nicely crunchy outside and dry-ish inside with very good flavour.
• Rooster: These crisped up well, while the texture inside was creamier than Golden Wonder and had decent flavour.
• Kerr’s Pink: They were similar to Rooster in crispness and texture, except with an earthier flavour which I didn’t like as much.
• Records: These crisped up very well, though they were not quite as floury as Golden Wonder inside, and had very good flavour.

And the winner?

Frankly, it was a close call between Golden Wonder and Records, though I think Golden Wonder had a slight edge in that battle. Roosters, which will, no doubt, be the choice of most Irish families, came in a very creditable third, followed by Kerr’s Pink, with Maris Piper a dim and distant fifth.

In all cases, my own personal preference for the fat to use remains olive oil, as I like that hint of olive taste in the crust. If that’s not your thing, groundnut oil will give similar results without the olive taste. Clarified butter seems to result in marginally more browning of the crust, though I think I still prefer to add butter to the roasties after they’re done, rather than before.

What surprised me most, though, was that, despite having gorged my way through a rather large number of roasties in order to bring you this news, I am still looking forward to eating them on Christmas day. Better still, I know exactly which roasties I’ll be having.

]]> http://www.thedailyspud.com/2010/12/19/roast-potatoes-roasties/feed/ 28 http://www.thedailyspud.com/2010/11/28/potato-gratin-dillisk-seaweed/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=potato-gratin-dillisk-seaweed http://www.thedailyspud.com/2010/11/28/potato-gratin-dillisk-seaweed/#comments Sun, 28 Nov 2010 21:03:16 +0000 Daily Spud http://www.thedailyspud.com/?p=24950

Poor Rufus nearly choked when I told him that the ‘secret’ ingredient in the mash was seaweed.

The occasion was that Irish-themed dinner party of mine and the mash in question was a union of three card-carrying Irish ingredients: potatoes, butter and dillisk.

Dillisk, seaweed par excellence

Dillisk (or dulse) is a purple/reddish seaweed found on the shores of the North Atlantic (or, for those further inland, in health food shops, packaged here in Ireland by Carraig Fhada Seaweed, among others). It boasts very high levels of iron and protein and has a wonderfully savoury, spicy flavour.

Now, I will freely admit that, for years, my knowledge of edible Irish seaweed more or less began and ended with carrageen moss. That changed with Prannie Rhatigan and her superbly informative Irish Seaweed Kitchen, which opens wide a door into the edible treasury of the Irish seashore.

Everything you ever wanted to know about cooking with seaweed
...and more

Not only did I become acquainted with dillisk, so eminently edible all by itself, but I discovered a new partner for potatoes. As quoted in Prannie’s book: “Just throw dillisk in with spuds and you can’t go wrong.” Very sound advice, as it turns out, very sound indeed.

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Potato Gratin With Dillisk

As Prannie Rhatigan notes in Irish Seaweed Kitchen, the possibilities for combining potatoes and dillisk are practically endless. Soften some dillisk in a little water, then chop and add to mash or potato salad or any number of other potato dishes. Here, I’ve added it to a garlicky potato gratin.

The recipe is a slight adaptation of Richard Olney’s Potato Daube from his classic book, Simple French Food, and simple this undoubtedly is. Sliced potatoes, seasoned here with dillisk, moistened with salted garlicky water and a drizzling of olive oil, and then baked.

It’s entirely satisfying on its own, though it would reside happily beside a nice piece of fish too. I quite fancy having it with some tuna steak, myself.

You’ll need:

• 5 cloves garlic, peeled and lightly crushed
• 500ml water
• 1 tsp salt
• approx 4 tblsp olive oil
• 1kg potatoes, preferably waxy, thinly sliced (peeled or unpeeled as you prefer) and patted dry
• small handful of dillisk (about 8g), finely chopped

You’ll also need:

• An ovenproof dish – mine was about 30cm x 22cm and 5cm deep.

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 200C
• Add the garlic, water and salt to a small saucepan. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for about 15 minutes.
• Remove from the heat, scoop out the garlic pieces and rub them through a sieve back into the cooking liquid.
• Rub the base of your ovenproof dish with 1 tblsp of the olive oil. Layer about one third of the sliced potatoes into the dish, sprinkle with half of the chopped dillisk, repeat with another layer of potatoes and dillisk and finish with the remaining potato slices.
• Pour the garlic water over the potatoes (it should just about cover them) and drizzle over the remaining olive oil
• Bake for about 45 minutes to an hour, or until nicely browned on top and the potatoes are tender right through. Enjoy on its own or perhaps along with a nice piece of fish – I quite fancy having it with some tuna steak myself.

The Variations:

• To revert to Richard Olney’s original recipe, put 3-4 bay leaves in the middle of the potato layers instead of the dillisk .

The Results:

• Around 4-6 servings of gratin (depending on how much, or how little, you are serving with it).

People who follow the recipe to the last word are the most boring people. Use your instincts. Chefs may have created combinations which (they think) are fantastic but you, you create your own fantastic.

I scribbled furiously. Those words just uttered by Atul Kochhar were words to cook by.

I had been waiting a long time for my date with the Michelin-starred Indian chef, but last weekend’s one day course with Atul at the Dublin Cookery School was worth every minute of that wait.

In truth, the menu for the day, which included naan bread, pulao rice, dal, lamb rogan josh, homestyle chicken curry and mango chutney, sounded like bog-standard Indian restaurant fare. And that may have seemed, to some at least, to be at odds with the chef’s Michelin stardom. But to think that was to miss the point. Absorb what the man had to say about spices and oils, about onions, garlic, ginger and lentils, and you could begin to make that Indian menu your own.

Clockwise from top left:
assorted spices; homestyle chicken curry; bombay aloo; fresh mango chutney;
Centre: the chef himself

It starts with understanding that as spices grow old, they lose their pzazz, so you buy only small amounts of whole spices, store in well-sealed containers and grind if and when you need to. Though I knew this in theory, the occasionally ancient contents of my spice cupboard indicate that my practice has been different. Oops.

When the time comes to cook, you can start encouraging those flavours to come out by pounding whole spices. After that, you will need to introduce your spices to oil and to heat. The oil must be hot enough for the spices to sizzle and release their own natural oils, but it should not be smoking. What that means is:

You should never use olive oil for Indian cooking.

Eek! Guilty as charged.

Probably shouldn't use Olive Oyl either...
(image from www.popeye.com)

The lovely flavour of olive oil is best reserved for Mediterranean purposes, whilst its low smoke point means that it doesn’t become hot enough for spices to really open up. What you can use is a neutral vegetable oil, such as grapeseed, instead.

In fact the fat or oil used in cooking is probably the single biggest distinguishing feature between the different regional cuisines within India: in the north, they tend to use butter or ghee, in the south, coconut oil, mustard oil is used in the east and sesame or ground nut oil in the west.

Regardless of the type of oil, however, you can be fairly safe in the assumption that Indians use a lot of it. There were audible gasps from the course attendees at the liberal pouring of oil at the start of every dish. That, Atul counseled, was needed for the onions.

Ah yes, know your onions...

He stressed that it was important to cook onions properly and they needed plenty of oil for that to happen (when pressed, he did say that you could drain excess oil off after the onions were done). Salt, by drawing moisture out, would also help onions to cook evenly, but other additions, such as ginger/garlic paste, should only enter the fray after onions were cooked to the degree required – be that translucent, golden brown or very brown.

While oil was the key to onions, salt was the key to lentils. In India, we were informed, lentils are always cooked in salted water, in contrast to the French-lead practice which dictates that salt should only be added towards the end of cooking, for fear that the lentils won’t soften. That fear, Atul says, is unfounded. An entire subcontinent agrees and has more flavourful lentils as a result.

And as he added more butter to the potatoes in his bombay aloo, he paused to address his Irish audience.

“Potatoes and butter,” he said. “I don’t need to explain to you guys about potatoes and butter.”

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Bombay Aloo

This is adapted slightly from the version of bombay aloo that we made during the course with Atul Kochhar. You can really use any kind of potatoes for this, though waxy ones will hold their shape better.

Atul’s recipe as written down didn’t specify ginger but I swear I saw him add some, so I followed suit. I threw in garlic because, well, I like garlic. I also included peanuts, which Atul mentioned would be a very typical addition to this dish in Gujarat, and a very good call it was, too. The result is my own kind of fantastic.

You’ll need:

• 25g raw unsalted peanuts
• 0.25 tsp cumin seeds
• 1 tsp black mustard seeds
• 0.5 tsp fenugreek seeds
• 25g butter
• 2 tblsp vegetable oil
• about 10 curry leaves
• 1 medium-sized red chilli, finely chopped
• 1 small onion (about 100g), peeled and chopped
• 2-3cm cube root ginger, peeled and finely diced
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 0.25 tsp gnd turmeric
• 0.5 tsp garam masala
• 3 medium-sized potatoes (about 600g), peeled or not as you prefer and cut into rough 2-3cm chunks
• 0.5 tsp salt plus more for cooking the onions
• 1.5 tsp lemon juice
• 1 tbsp chopped coriander or more to taste

You’ll also need:

• A baking tray for toasting the peanuts, a heavy-bottomed frying pan (mine is a 26cm pan) and a mortar and pestle for crushing spices.

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 160C. Then place the shelled, raw peanuts on a baking tray and toast in the oven for 15-20 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove, allow to cool, then crush the peanuts coarsely.
• Meanwhile, lightly pound the cumin seeds, mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds using a mortar and pestle.
• Place your heavy-bottomed pan over a medium heat and add the oil and butter. When hot enough so that the spices sizzle straight away, add the cumin, mustard seeds and fenugreek to the pan along with the curry leaves and chopped chilli. Stir briefly, then add the onions and a pinch of salt. Cover the pan, lower the heat and cook the onions gently for 3-4 minutes, without colouring and stirring occasionally.
• Remove the lid, add the ginger and garlic and stir and cook for about a minute more.
• Add the turmeric and garam masala, stir briefly, then add the potatoes,lemon juice,salt and enough hot water to just cover the potatoes. Simmer for about 10 minutes with the lid on. Remove the lid and simmer for another 5-10 minutes more, until the potatoes are just cooked through.
• Stir in the coriander and simmer for a few more minutes or until the liquid has mostly evaporated. If the dish is still quite liquid, raise the heat so that the liquid boils off more quickly and preferably before the potatoes turn to mush.
• Garnish with the crushed roasted peanuts. Serve with raita, naan bread, chutneys and dal or just toss with some natural yogurt and eat it as is.

The Variations:

• I rather fancy throwing in some chopped fresh tomatoes next time when adding the potatoes.

The Results:

• Should serve 2-3 as part of an Indian spread.

Ah lovely, colcannon à la Spud

I was thinking about colcannon lately. As you do.

To be honest, it’s been on my mind ever since I heard my niece express the following fond and particularly Irish hope a few weeks back: “I hope my Ma makes colcannon”.

And it occurred to me that I do not make colcannon half often enough. Mashed potatoes, cabbage or kale, butter, milk and maybe some scallions – it’s supremely comforting food.

So, it was with colcannon in mind that I went out the other day in search of cabbage. Only what I found was curly kale. Hmph. Of course I know that kale is the more traditional addition to colcannon, but childhood experience has led me to regard it as cabbage’s tougher and frankly less appealing cousin. It has not, therefore, been a vegetable that I have sought out but one that I feel I have to deal with whenever it is foisted upon me.

I looked long and hard at the frilly green leaves and decided, somewhat reluctantly, that perhaps it was time to give curly kale a second chance.

I wasn’t going to do this on my own, though. I would bring in the big guns and consult with Darina and Nigel on the subject. Ha! Take that, kale.

And lo and behold, the combined wisdom of the masters spoke of kale pesto, puréed kale, kale steamed and sautéed and even salads with kale. The message seemed clear: make fine enough shreds of it and the long remembered toughness would be a thing of the past. Suddenly the world was full of kale possibilities.

So I blanched and chopped and added some things to curly kale that – who’d have thought – brought it in a Mediterranean direction. And I used it to make a kind of colcannon. Except it was colcannon meets tabouleh. And as I ate what I had made, I saw curly kale in a whole new light. And it was good, believe me, all so very good.

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Minced Kale (for Colcannon and other things)

To the kale and spring onions that you would traditionally add to colcannon, I’ve added some garlic, parsley, olive oil and lemon juice. While this little mixture is entirely simple, the whole idea of using kale in this way was, for me, a revelation.

The result is some seasoned minced kale that can be sprinkled on boiled or roasted potatoes, added to a dressing for potato salad or mixed with mash to make a kind of colcannon. Or you could add bulghar, tomatoes and mint to make tabouleh. Your call.

You’ll need:

• curly kale, about 100g after thick stalks removed
• 4 tblsp chopped flat leaf parsley
• 1 spring onion, white and green parts sliced
• 1 small clove garlic
• 1 tblsp good quality extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tsp lemon juice
• 0.25 tsp fine salt
• freshly ground black pepper

You’ll also need:

• A food processor or mortar and pestle for combining everything.

The Steps:

• Bring a saucepan of water to the boil. Add the kale, bring back to the boil and boil for about a minute, then drain and rinse well under cold running water. Squeeze any excess water from the kale.
• Add the kale, parsley, spring onion, garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, salt and a few twists of black pepper to the food processor and blitz until everything is finely minced. Alternatively, chop the kale, parsley, spring onion and garlic very finely and combine with the other ingredients using a mortar and pestle.
• Sprinkle over steamed or roasted potatoes, add to potato salad or use to make colcannon (see below).

The Variations:

• There are plenty of other potato-friendly things you could add in here, such as mint and I think possibly a little vinegar, or to make more of a sauce or dressing, add more olive oil and lemon juice.

The Results:

• Makes about 100g (enough for a batch of colcannon as below)