It’s a conspiracy. No doubt about it. A conspiracy I tell you.

The fact of the matter is that London-based Michelin-starred chef Atul Kochhar is being thwarted in all of his attempts to meet me.

First, it was the January snow that scuppered travel from the UK and resulted in the cancellation of Atul’s one day course at the Dublin Cookery School, which I was due to attend. Then it was the preponderance of volcanic ash in the airspace hereabouts that meant he was unable to travel for the rescheduled date this weekend.

Much admired for his masterful use of spices, I had really hoped, by now, to be in a position to reveal Atul’s thoughts on the subject of spices for spuds, but there are forces at work that have determined otherwise. Perhaps it is the case that Atul is simply not ready to meet me yet – it’s a naturally big step in any chef’s career – but I rather fancy he can handle it.

And so, while I wait to hear of a new date for my tuition in the ways of Indian spicing, I content myself with using Atul’s rather wonderful book, Indian Essence, as my spicy guide. These potatoes with cashew nuts are a great example of where that can lead.

Note: There is a print link embedded within this post, please visit this post to print it.

Potatoes Cooked With Cashew Nuts (Aloo Dum)

This is slightly modified from a recipe in Atul Kochhar’s Indian Essence.

The recipe as given in the book is for potatoes cooked with melon seeds. However, not having any melon seeds, I used the suggested alternative of cashew nuts. I have also reduced the amount of oil used and skipped the initial frying of the potatoes. There are a couple of other minor tweaks, based on the ingredients I had to hand, but the essence of this wonderfully aromatic sauce remains.

You’ll need:

• 2 tblsp cashew nuts
• vegetable oil for frying (I used grapeseed oil)
• 2 medium onions, about 300g, thinly sliced
• 500-600g baby new potatoes or any waxy variety of potato
• 375g natural yoghurt
• 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
• 1.5 tsp chopped ginger root
• 0.5 tsp ground cumin
• 0.5 tsp ground coriander
• 0.25 cayenne pepper
• 125 ml water
• 1 tsp salt
• 5cm cinnamon stick
• 0.5 tsp fennel seeds
• Seeds from 3 green cardamom pods
• 2 tblsp chopped fresh coriander plus extra for garnish

You’ll also need:

• A blender or food processor for blending parts of the sauce plus a spice grinder or mortar and pestle.

The Steps:

• Soak the cashew nuts in warm water for 10 minutes, then drain and blend to a paste using a blender or mini food processor.
• Place a large frying pan over a medium heat. When hot, add about 2 tblsp of oil. Add the onions and stir and fry until softened and starting to brown, around 10-15 minutes. Remove and leave to drain and cool on a paper towel.
• Meanwhile, scrub and peel the potatoes. If using baby new potatoes, you can leave them whole. For larger potatoes, cut into slices around 1cm thick.
• In a blender or food processor, blend the fried onions and yoghurt until smooth.
• Heat another tblsp of oil in the frying pan and add the garlic and ginger. Stir and fry over a medium heat until golden brown, around 3-4 minutes.
• Add the cumin, coriander and cayenne to the pan, stir briefly, then add the yoghurt and onion mix and the cashew nut paste. Bring the sauce to a simmer.
• Add the potatoes, water and salt, bring back to a simmer and cook for 20-30 minutes or until the potatoes are tender.
• Meanwhile, toast the cinnamon, fennel and cardamom in a small heavy frying pan over a medium heat for 2-3 minutes. Allow to cool slightly, then grind to a powder using a spice grinder or mortar and pestle.
• When the potatoes are cooked through, add the toasted spice powder and chopped coriander and stir to mix.
• You could serve this, garnished with additional fresh coriander, alongside other Indian dishes and breads. I also fancy that this could be used to accompany a simple piece of steamed white fish or chicken.

The Variations:

• You could certainly cook other veg or meat in this sauce along with the spuds – chicken, I think, would work well, or chunks of juicy paneer along with some green beans or peas perhaps.

The Results:

• Serves 2-3 as side-dish.

Swoon.

I have a brand new Valentine (Mr. Tayto take note).

His name is Aleppo (which, granted, makes him sound like one of the Marx Brothers), he hails from Syria, he’s red hot (well, he’s perhaps not as hot as some, but just hot enough for me) and smells, as best I can describe it, of tobacco.

Hmm. Not sounding so attractive now, is he?

Meet Mr. Aleppo Pepper

Give him a chance, though. Mr. Aleppo Pepper is worthy of your attention.

He arrived at my doorstep nestled amongst a host of goodies sent to me by Oz from Kitchen Butterfly (who is equally worthy of your attention, btw). Mine was the lucky number drawn in Oz’s first giveaway, so I received a beautiful basket filled with a veritable treasure trove of kitchen props.

Just some of what the Kitchen Butterfly sent

There were spices too, among them the aforementioned aleppo pepper. Dark red chili flakes, fragrant, slightly smoky and, yes, with an aroma reminiscent of fruity tobacco. Oz had used some in her muhammara (and I’ll put some in mine next time too) but mostly I was thinking, hello Mr. Pepper, you’d be right at home with some spuds.

I was immediately filled with visions of potato chunks, roasted with oil and a generous helping of aleppo pepper, or perhaps a bowl of potato salad scattered with some of those fruity chili flakes. What with Pancake Tuesday just around the corner, though, my first date with Mr. Aleppo Pepper was, instead, deliciously crêpe-like. And it definitely had the taste of more Valentines to come.

Note: There is a print link embedded within this post, please visit this post to print it.

Savoury Potato Crêpes

The batter here contains both sour cream and mashed potato over and above what you might expect to find in a basic pancake batter. Plus aleppo pepper, of course, as well as some oregano and cumin (a good buddy of aleppo pepper and firmly on the the A-list of spud spices).

You can eat these on their own, though they’re even better with some grated cheese melted on top – some parmesan or a sharp cheddar, say. You could also have them as an accompaniment to a bowl of chili or – here’s a thought – use them to wrap your favourite enchilada filling instead of the usual corn tortillas. That, I think, might be rather good.

You’ll need:

• 300g potatoes (2 smallish specimens), preferably a floury variety
• 1 large clove garlic, lightly crushed using the blade of a knife and cut into 3-4 pieces
• 150g plain flour
• 0.75 tsp salt (plus more for boiling the potatoes)
• 0.75 tsp ground cumin
• 3 eggs
• 150g sour cream (or substitute natural yoghurt)
• 300ml milk
• 2.5 tsp aleppo pepper (or substitute 2 tsp sweet paprika + 0.25 tsp cayenne)
• 0.75 tsp oregano
• butter for frying

You’ll also need:

• A potato ricer is a useful, though not essential, piece of kit here.

The Steps:

• Peel your potatoes and cut into roughly even-sized slices, around 1-2cm thick. Rinse them under cold water.
• Bring about 600ml of water to the boil in a saucepan, add about 0.75 tsp salt, the crushed garlic and the potato slices.
• Bring back to the boil and reduce to a simmer. Simmer gently, covered, for around 12-15 minutes or until just fork-tender.
• When the potatoes are done, drain well and return them 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.
• Put the cooked and still warm potatoes through a potato ricer, if you have one, or mash with a potato masher or, if all else fails, a fork. Leave aside to cool while you prepare the rest of the batter ingredients.
• In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt and ground cumin.
• In another large bowl, whisk the eggs together well, then add the sour cream and whisk to combine.
• Add the mashed potato to the eggs, mixing in well, then add the flour, mixing until just combined.
• Now gradually whisk in the milk. You should end up with a batter having a consistency similar to that of unwhipped cream. Don’t worry too much if the batter is a little bit lumpy – if it seems very lumpy, just strain through a sieve.
• Finally, add the aleppo pepper and oregano and stir to mix.
• If you can wait that long, let the batter sit, covered, for 15-30 minutes before cooking.
• Place a frying pan over a medium-high heat and, when hot, add a teaspoon of butter. When that has melted, add a ladleful of batter to the pan, swirling quickly so that it coats the pan thinly. Cook for 1-2 minutes until set and the base is browned, then flip and cook briefly on the other until browned. Repeat with the rest of the batter and either serve the pancakes as you go or keep warm in the oven until all are cooked.
• Enjoy on their own or topped with some melted cheese, or do the whole enchilada thing if that takes your fancy.

The Variations:

• Change the herbs and spices to suit your mood – you could use a mixture of parsley and thyme here, or some dill perhaps, each with a different savoury effect.

The Results:

• Around 1 litre of batter, enough for about 10 x 22cm crêpe-like pancakes

You could eat a mountain of those…

So proclaimed resident sis, having started to munch through a plateful of spicy lunch spuds. Said spuds were more-ish alright. It was a close run thing as to whether I would manage to take an acceptable photograph before having eaten them all myself. Lucky for you I did, huh?

How many could you eat?

These spicy baked potato skins were the first thing I tried from Paul Gayler’s book A Passion For Potatoes, which was recommended to me by Will from Recipe Play. I guess he had a hunch that I just might like a book with wall-to-wall potato recipes, while I, for my part, am inclined to pay attention to someone who puts Guinness in his reuben melts.

Harissa and friends

This particular recipe had caught my eye because it called for harissa paste. Harissa paste was one of the must-bring-back food souvenirs from my trip to Tunisia last year, where it is the condiment of choice. It’s a hot chili/garlic paste, usually with a few other spices thrown in. The paste that I have mentions 3 different types of chili pepper plus garlic, salt, coriander and caraway. I brought back 2 tubes of the stuff from my travels and they had, umm, languished in the cupboard. Until now. Until these. I might be running out of harissa paste soon.

]]> http://www.thedailyspud.com/2009/03/22/spud-sunday-spicy-skins/feed/ 45 http://www.thedailyspud.com/2009/01/30/the-great-oppression/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=the-great-oppression http://www.thedailyspud.com/2009/01/30/the-great-oppression/#comments Fri, 30 Jan 2009 23:17:14 +0000 Daily Spud http://www.thedailyspud.com/?p=2360 So, have you ever felt oppressed by vegetables?

Don’t laugh (well, maybe just a chuckle then…).

A few years ago, I signed up for weekly deliveries of organic veg. Great idea. A selection of in-season fruit and veg delivered to the door, locally sourced where possible. Fresh, good quality kitchen materials always on hand. What’s not to love about that?

So, week-in-week-out, the veg arrived on cue and I lunched and dined on the spoils and even made the occasional jar of pickle. Happy days. Sometimes, though, I would struggle to get through my weekly vegetable quota and, if I forgot to cancel subsequent deliveries in time, a certain degree of vegetable stock-piling would ensue. I would always attempt to work through the little vegetable mountain as best I could, given my deep-seated abhorrence of food waste. There were times, though, when it would get the better of me and I would soon start to feel oppressed by its continued presence. The ringleaders of this vegetable-led oppression were cabbage and his buddy turnip.

The Chief Oppressors

It’s not that I disliked either of these vegetables but, frankly, I found them a bit of a challenge. Fact was that they often managed to defeat me by virtue of sheer volume. I mean to say, a bloody great big head of red or white cabbage with only one or two of us to do the eating could mean cabbage for several days in a row. Not only that, but who was to say that another cabbage wouldn’t turn up on the doorstep again next week? My cabbage repertoire wasn’t all that extensive and there were only so many days in the week where you’d want mashed turnip. So it was that I began to greet the arrival of the weekly delivery with some trepidation because these two would, at times, feature quite a lot. Being local ‘n’ all.

Now, during this time, I did try to find new ways of dealing with my chief adversaries (like the happy discovery of cabbage stir-fried with caraway seeds and a surprisingly good dish combining turnip with yoghurt, tomato and cumin) but, in the end, I had to admit that I couldn’t keep up with the constant challenge. I scaled back my deliveries to once every two weeks and we have now achieved a nice little equilibrium, my organic vegetables and me.

I was reminded of all of this during the week when family events kept me away from the house for several days longer than planned. Having been gone for the best part of a week, I returned to find a veg delivery that had been languishing unattended by the door for days, to be added to the fairly plentiful stocks already lying unused indoors. Not only that, but local duo cabbage and turnip put in a joint appearance, lending weight to the chorus of veggies murmuring “you really should use me up, y’know”. However, I will be neither oppressed nor defeated this time. I will look to the suggestions from Carmel Somers of The Good Things Café in West Cork on how to spice up these two lowly Irish staples, as heard recently on Newstalk radio’s Foodtalk series. She suggests, among other things, cabbage with juniper and garlic and turnip matched with ginger in either soup, roasted or stewed form. So I reckon I’ll be tackling my excess with the aid of whatever I think my spice cupboard can throw at it, that way I can have my seasonal vegetables and eat them.

I was shopping for cookie cutters for my niece but I couldn’t resist this little guy and had to get him for myself. Truth is, I’ve never actually had a “proper” gingerbread man cutter. My childhood gingerbread men usually involved a (perfectly functional) homemade template of stiff cardboard. However, I felt that the time had come for some grown up gingerbread men in my life.

But what recipe to use?

I had quite specific notions about what I was looking for in a gingerbread man – that being a texture that would be a little cake-like, dry but not crisp and with a good ginger bite. I had scanned the various recipes that had come my way of late but, in the end, I decided to go it alone, combining ideas from a few different sources. It’s not radically different from other gingerbread recipes but it achieved the bite I was looking for by way of some fresh ginger and cayenne pepper and the texture was spot-on.

That alone would have been pretty good, but there’s more.

I was eating one of my gingery men and was…

1. thinking that pieces of this would work very nicely as a dessert with some vanilla ice-cream
2. trying to describe the texture to myself

when it came to me that what I had created was not unlike a kimberley biscuit (that’s biscuit in the Irish sense, meaning cookie, not the scone-like things called biscuits in the States). Kimberleys are one of the classic trinity of Irish biscuits (the others being Mikado and Coconut Creams) and consist of a sandwich of 2 cakey ginger biscuits with a sugary mallow filling.

I did seek some second opinions on the kimberley comparison and KD’s verdict was that my ginger men were not as moist as kimberleys and had a sharper ginger kick, which I had to agree was a pretty accurate assessment. The important thing, however, insofar as there was any comparison to be made at all, was the inevitable conclusion regarding the addition of a coating of chocolate. In this I refer to the commonly-held opinion that, while kimberleys are pretty good on their own, whoever thought of bringing out chocolate-covered kimberleys was really onto something…

So, by that rationale, I could certainly pimp my ginger guys with a coating of chocolate or, even better, sandwich them kimberley-style with, say, a lemon ice filling before putting on their chocolate coats. At the very least, I could add some chocolate sauce to a dessert of vanilla ice-cream and gingerbread and be on to a winner. These men had endless possibilities!

That’s what I said out loud, and to nobody in particular, as I was finishing this morning’s piece of toasted rye bread. It was the taste of caraway seeds that seemed to be the source of my particular enjoyment of said piece of toast (and the second one which quickly followed it!).

I somehow get the feeling, though, that caraway seeds are not front and centre in many peoples spice racks (am I wrong?). It’s undoubtedly an ancient spice, likely to have been used in the Stone Age, certainly used by the ancient Egyptians, and quite fashionable in Elizabethan and, later, in Victorian times. It’s also pretty popular in traditional German and Eastern European fare, but not really featured much around these parts, guv (except, perhaps, in the odd bit of rye bread from your local Eastern European shop).

Could it be that it has just fallen out of flavour? (sorry, just couldn’t resist that one…!)

Personally, I love caraway. I have some in my cupboard but must admit that, until recently, I rarely thought of using it. Not sure why, because I remember having plain white scones with caraway seeds as a child and loving them. I knew I should just up and make some, but there was that nagging suspicion that they wouldn’t be to everyone’s taste (which, if I think about it for a nanosecond, is a shame for everyone else but not really a problem for me!).

But now I find that caraway is making a comeback (well, in my kitchen that is), ever since I discovered the delight that is cabbage stirfried with caraway seeds. I mean, if you can stirfry spinach with nutmeg, then why not cabbage with caraway. It turns out that caraway also teams with the salted, fermented version of cabbage that is sauerkraut (though I haven’t tried that one yet). All of which is very good news for someone who both likes her caraway and finds cabbage a challenge betimes.

One half of the cabbage and caraway team

And now, after all that, I think it’s high time I went and made myself those scones…

Eat more chilies – you’ll want to eat less of everything else…

Though my tongue is firmly in my cheek, it’s not as daft as it sounds. Capsaicin, which is the hot stuff in chilies, is actually thought to supress appetite. And if you’ve even been faced with a nuclear-grade curry, it can be less a case of eating and more of overcoming (or being overcome) in the battle between you and your dinner. In a very practical budgetary equation, the more chilies you put in, the less you are likely to be able to eat, which works well when there isn’t that much food to go around (and always assuming you like curries of course…!).

Adopting this as an economic strategy would not be without its pitfalls, however. You have to know how to handle your chilies and underestimate them at your peril. The memory of my first encounter with those small dried red chilies is etched forever on my mind, most probably because the lamb curry I had created made its own lasting impression on the roof of my mouth. I had added 20 miniature heat seeking missiles to the pot instead of the much smaller quantity that was recommended because, well, they just looked so small… What I managed to eat of the curry was mouth-watering in every sense, but I didn’t get much past the third forkful!

With due care and understanding, however (and always remembering to wash one’s hands afterwards…) chilies, in suitably restrained quantities, can be a worthy addition to the shopping list, if not necessarily one’s first choice in cost-saving measures!

]]> http://www.thedailyspud.com/2008/10/18/recession-bites/feed/ 1