It was one of those moments when you try something new and you know what the joy of good food is.

So said resident sis after we had practically inhaled a lunch of mildly sweet and delicate gravad lax from Kinvara Smoked Salmon (proving that you don’t have to be famous to get quoted on this blog, but it does help if you’re related).

She’s in good company as far as her opinion of Kinvara’s smoked salmon goes. Nigel Slater and Jeffrey Steingarten are among the noteworthy food writers who have had kind words to say on that particular subject. Having worked my way through the samples very kindly sent to me, I can’t say that I would object to finding any of them on my plate (though the gravad lax remains a particular favourite).

Pressies from Kinvara Smoked Salmon

And though it is fair to say that you should do very little to good smoked salmon except eat it, I think that there’s nothing wrong with using some classic potato salad to provide a soft, creamy filling around which to wrap a slice of perfectly smoked salmon. But there again, I would say that. You can quote me if you like.

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Smoked Salmon Stuffed with Potato Salad

This part hardly needs a formal recipe – just wrap your slices of salmon around a dollop of potato salad, serve with a wedge of lemon and some dill and you’re done. Apart from eating the end result, that is, but I was taking that part as read.

The amount of filling you can add to a slice of salmon will naturally depend on the size of the slices you have. The slices of Kinvara smoked salmon were around 15cm long and between 5cm and 8cm wide and I filled them with 2 heaped tablespoons of the salad. Adjust according to the size of slices you have.

You could serve a couple of these as a starter, say, or for a lunch serving, have two or three of these with an additional helping of the salad on the side, along with some brown soda bread.

You’ll need:

• Smoked salmon, sliced fairly thinly, with individual slices large enough to be formed into a small filled roll
• Potato and egg salad (see below)
• Lemon wedges to serve
• Chopped dill to garnish

The Steps:

• Scoop around 2 heaped tblsp of potato salad onto the centre of each slice of smoked salmon and form into a roll.
• Garnished with chopped dill and serve with a lemon wedge.

The Results:

• As many filled smoked salmon rolls as you have slices of salmon.

I have doubts on sprouts
But peas they please
And parsnips give me pleasure.
But of all the veg
I give this pledge
Potatoes are my treasure.

Extract from “King Spud” © 2010 Nick Balmforth

Mr. Balmforth, author of those lines, is clearly a man after my own heart – a heart that fairly swells with pride when my little potato treasures start to blossom, signalling to the world that new potatoes are not far behind.

The sign that says new spuds are a comin'

At the head of my new potato posse are a few mavericks – the offspring of stray spuds that have lingered long enough to produce roots and shoots of their own. Having had a head start on the seeds planted this year, the next generation of last year’s Shetland Blacks and Colleens are all ready for me to meet and eat.

First new potatoes of the year, Shetland Black and Colleen

And when presented with a crop of small, firm new potatoes, it is the most natural thing in the world to want to turn them into potato salad.

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Potato Salad with Feta Cheese

When it comes to making potato salad, the possibilities are, of course, endless. If, however, you had just made feta cheese for the first time, then into that potato salad the feta cheese would go. (There will be a full report on the feta cheese making in due course, though I hasten to add that making your own feta cheese is not a requirement for this!)

If you don’t have small, new potatoes, you can really use any waxy potato here – just halve or quarter larger potatoes before boiling so that you end up with roughly even-sized pieces.

The recipe also calls for roasting a head of garlic, with around 6 cloves of roasted garlic used in the dressing – if you roast more than than that, you can always just eat the leftover cloves of roasted garlic as is or spread them on toast.

You’ll need:

• 1 small head garlic
• olive oil for roasting garlic
• 75g walnut halves
• 800g new potatoes
• salt for boiling the potatoes
• 8-10cm sprig of rosemary
• 3 tblsp extra virgin olive oil
• 1.5 tblsp lemon juice
• Zest of half a lemon (about 2 tsp zest)
• 1 tsp dijon mustard
• freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 150g feta cheese, crumbled
• 4 spring onions, finely sliced
• 4 tblsp mint, finely chopped
• 4 tblsp flat leaf parsley, finely chopped

The Steps:

• Preheat the oven to 200C
• Separate 2 cloves from the head of garlic and reserve. Remove the outer layer of papery skin from the rest of the head and slice off the top, just to expose the cloves. Wrap the head of garlic in foil and pour a tsp or two of olive oil over the exposed cloves. Roast for around 35 minutes or until the cloves are completely soft. Meanwhile, prepare the walnuts and potatoes:
• Spread the walnuts on a baking tray and place in your hot oven for around 5 minutes or so, until lightly toasted (they will burn easily, so keep an eye on them). Remove, allow to cool a little and chop roughly.
• Scrub the potatoes and peel and lightly crush the 2 reserved cloves of garlic. Bring about 1.5l of water to the boil in a saucepan, add about 2 tsp salt, a sprig of rosemary, the pieces of crushed garlic and the potatoes. Bring back to the boil and reduce to a simmer. Simmer gently, covered, for around 15-20 minutes or until just fork-tender.
• When the potatoes are done, drain well and return them to the saucepan. Let them sit, covered by a tea-towel, for 5-10 minutes or until cool enough to handle.
• To make the dressing, whisk together the extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, dijon mustard and black pepper. Mash about 6 cloves of the roasted garlic and mix with the dressing.
• Roughly chop the potatoes into bite-sized chunks and toss with the dressing. Add the crumbled feta, spring onions, walnuts, mint and parsley and stir to mix. Taste and add more of whatever you think it may need.
• Eat.

The Variations:

• If I’d had kalamata olives, I would have added some. You could also add capers if you like.

The Results:

• Potato salad servings for around 4.

“We need to tighten our belts.”

Just how often have we heard that one lately?

The fact is, however, that when it comes to our national diet, belt loosening is the order of the day. As a nation, it seems we’re getting a little chubby around the middle, with 60% of us overweight or obese according to this report. And Michael O’Shea, CEO of the Irish Heart Foundation (IHF) reckons that obesity levels in Ireland are rising at the rate of around 1% per year. Yikes.

Given that about one third of premature heart disease relates to poor diet and that about 10,000 Irish people die each year from heart disease and stroke, the IHF, whose mission it is to reduce cases of preventable heart disease, have a vested interest in what we eat. In fact, whatever it is we’re eating, they’d like us to eat less of it.

That, at least, is the focus of their Happy Heart Eat Out campaign, which runs for the month of June. Given that many of us are prone to dining out, they are encouraging us to show a little restraint when we do so. They have the help of 500+ restaurants and catering establishments, who will be offering healthier, right-sized options on their menus.

One such participant is Saba, the popular Thai and Vietnamese eatery in Dublin, which was the venue for the launch of the campaign. And the launch, well, that involved lunch…

Lunch at Saba, clockwise from bottom left:
seared yellow fin tuna with wasabi coriander mayonnaise; steamed seabass fillets with Xao Shing wine sauce; hot and sour prawn soup; fruit platter with passion fruit and mango sorbet

Ok, I grant you, that does look like a lot of food but, truth be told, the individual courses were light, and I skipped the rice offered (because, let’s face it, rice is not potatoes) – so I didn’t need to engage in any belt adjustment afterward. Result? One happy Spud. So happy, in fact, that I went straight home and made some hot, sour and heart happy soup for you all to enjoy too.

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Thai Hot And Sour Soup

The IHF recipe booklet mentioned above includes Tom Yum Goong, the hot and sour prawn soup we had at Saba. The recipe here, though similar, is not Saba’s version, but is adapted from a recipe resident sis learned while staying at Eagle House in Chiang Mai in Thailand, a place that will be familiar to many Irish backpackers.

It’s a firm favourite Chez Spud and, though classically made using prawns, we have always just made it using veggies. The formula is simple: heat the water or stock with flavourings for a few minutes to infuse, then add the rest of the vegetables/seafood/meat, the order determined by how long each takes to heat through or cook, followed by some final seasonings.

You can use a vegetable or chicken stock if you like, though we generally just use water as the base – it’s still plenty flavoursome and (not that I worry about these things overly), low in fat and (yes) a good heart healthy option. The only trouble with keeping portions small here is that its more-ish nature will mean that you inevitably want second helpings.

You’ll need:

• 800ml light vegetable stock or water (or use chicken stock if you like)
• 1 stick lemongrass, cut into 2cm pieces
• 50g galangal or root ginger, peeled and cut into 0.5cm slices
• 4 dried kaffir lime leaves
• 2-3 dried red chillies, crushed
• 0.5 tsp shrimp paste (optional)
• 1×400g tin straw mushrooms (about 240g drained weight), or substitute button or oyster mushrooms
• 1×400g tin baby corn (about 240g drained weight), sliced into 1cm widths
• 200g cherry tomatoes, halved
• 4 spring onions, finely sliced
• 4 tblsp lime juice
• 1 tblsp soy sauce or more to taste
• 3 tblsp Thai fish sauce (or substitute with additional soy sauce)
• 0.5-1 tsp sugar

To serve:

• fresh coriander
• steamed rice (optional)

The Steps:

• Bring the water or stock to a simmer in a saucepan. Add the lemongrass, galangal or ginger, kaffir lime leaves and chillies. Return to a simmer and cook for around 3 minutes.
• Add the shrimp paste (if using) and stir to mix, then add the mushrooms and corn and simmer for about another 3 minutes.
• Add the cherry tomatoes and simmer for 1-2 minutes, then add the spring onions, lime juice, soy sauce, fish sauce (if using) and sugar. Stir to mix, taste and check seasoning, adding more of whatever you think it might need.
• You can serve this on its own as a broth or spoon some steamed rice into a bowl and then ladle the soup over it. Garnish generously with sprigs of fresh coriander and remember that the pieces of lemongrass, galangal or ginger and kaffir lime leaves are for flavouring only and not actually for eating.

The Variations:

• Prawns, of course, are a classic inclusion in this soup, though I don’t see why you couldn’t try other seafood or meats here too. Change the vegetables to suit what you have – anything that doesn’t need long to cook or heat through is fair game. You can try bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, mange tout and french beans to name but a few.

The Results:

• 3 dinner servings, along with rice, or 4 smaller servings.

I doubt that I will ever become a true locavore.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for the principles of eating (and drinking) locally, when and where possible, but I am ever appreciative of the ease with which we can import that which is neither cultivated nor produced here. Potato-heavy though my diet (naturally) is, I think that I would find it impossible to confine myself solely to the food and drink which emanates from within our Irish borders. Or would I?

For starters, wine would be a no-no. Especially the far away new world kind.

World Cup Wines from South Africa's Nederburg: creamy sauvignon blanc, crisp, dry, rosé (dangerously drinkable, like an adult raspberry cordial) and fruity cabernet sauvignon

Take these limited edition South African World Cup wines from Nederburg that came my way recently. While I won’t be overly concerned with the World Cup itself (the less said about us not being in it, the better), I am nevertheless thankful for the opportunity to indulge in the associated wines.

And what about this little lot, eh?

Several continents' worth of salts and spices

Salts and spices from no less that 4 different continents – from delicately pink and flaky Murray River salt crystals to small, dense crystals of black lava salt from Hawaii – all very kindly sent to me by Chef E. I’m quite sure that I could survive (and well) without any of these things, but I love the foreign accent that they bring to our native staples. Like the African potato stew I made yesterday. The vegetables are decidedly local (the chard, from my own garden, especially so) but not one of the spices used originates here. Could I give up the flavours that they bring? Yes. Would I want to? No, not ever.

An Irish tricolour of veggies: swiss chard, potatoes and carrots

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African Potato Stew

After a little blast of sunshine and warmth last week, yesterday was dull and wet and much more appropriate to this kind of wintry fare. Welcome to the Irish summer.

This stew is based on a recipe found in The Potato: Around The World In 200 recipes, which was published in 2008 as an initiative to promote the then United Nations Year of the Potato. The recipes were collected by Florence Lebras.

The original uses potato, sweet potato and cauliflower, whereas I’ve used my tricolour of chard, potatoes and carrots, and have also added allspice berries to the original spice mix.

As for the raisins or sultanas, when it comes to using dried fruit in a stew, I reckon that you either love it or hate it. If you are in the love it camp, then add them in, but if it’s not your thing, then by all means leave them out.

You’ll need:

• 750g potato (3-4 medium sized potatoes)
• 250g carrot (2 large-ish carrots)
• 300g swiss chard (or substitute spinach)
• 1 tblsp coriander seeds
• 4 cloves
• 6 allspice berries
• 2 tblsp olive oil
• 300g onion (2 medium onions), finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, finely chopped
• 3cm piece root ginger, peeled and finely chopped
• 1 tsp black mustard seeds
• 2 tsp poppy seeds
• 1.5 tsp fine salt
• 3-4 tblsp raisins or sultanas (optional)
• freshly ground black pepper
• 1 tblsp cider vinegar

You’ll need:

• Spice grinder or mortar and pestle for grinding spices.

The Steps:

• Scrub the potatoes and, leaving the skin on, chop into 1cm cubes. Peel and slice the carrots, around 0.5cm thick or less.
• Wash the swiss chard and separate the thick centre veins and stalks from the green leafy parts. Slice the leaves into 0.5cm strips, chop the stalks into approx 0.5cm dice.
• Place a small frying pan over a medium heat. When hot, add the coriander seeds, cloves and allspice berries and toast, stirring frequently, until fragrant, about 3 minutes. Allow to cool slightly and then grind in a spice grinder or using a mortar and pestle.
• Place a large heavy saucepan over a medium heat. When hot, add the oil, followed by the onion and garlic. Stir and fry for about 5 minutes or until the onion has softened.
• Add the chopped ginger, mustard seeds, poppy seeds and ground spices to the saucepan and stir briefly.
• Add the potatoes, carrots and chard stalks, stir to mix and then add the salt and about 750ml water (enough to barely cover the vegetables). Bring to the boil, then cover, reduce the heat and simmer for about 15 minutes.
• Add the chard greens and raisins (if using), stir to incorporate, return to a simmer and simmer for about another 15-20 minutes or until the vegetables are tender.
• Stir in the cider vinegar, ladle into bowls and serve on its own or with some crusty bread.

The Variations:

• I would certainly consider adding chickpeas to this next time round, and, if so, would use the chickpea cooking liquid in place of the water.

The Results:

• About 4-5 helpings

For instance, the other day, I rushed home to take delivery of…

A truly authentic ham sandwich from Denny

…a ham sandwich. Yup. White sliced pan, something butter-like and Denny ham. No more, no less.

Notwithstanding the fact that I’m not an eater of meaty sandwiches (oops, Denny forgot again), the significance of what is an Irish Institution was not lost on me. The ham sandwich (more properly referred to in certain parts of the country as the hang sangidge) has graced many’s the Irish lunchbox and been consumed by countless thousands of attendees at GAA matches, community field days and parish hall functions. A ham sandwich, thus presented, is nothing less than tradition between two slices of bread (though one to which you might just want to add a bit of mustard).

This tradition is the inspiration for Denny’s Taste of Home (outdoors) campaign which, in turn, is the reason I found myself in receipt of one iconic ham-filled lunchable, along with a list of Denny’s top 10 spots at which to enjoy same. These locations range from beautiful Glencar Waterfall in Co. Leitrim to The Burren in Co. Clare, and one presumes that they are equally well suited to the enjoyment of hamless sandwiches. (My own personal choice of sandwich filling would be Tayto cheese and onion, how ’bout you?)

Also included on Denny’s list of sandwich spots is next week’s Bloom In The Park festival and, let me tell you, if last year is anything to go by, there’ll be a lot more than ham sandwiches to be had.

While the show gardens are the centrepiece of the festival, this year’s programme guarantees that those with an interest in food and drink will be well catered for. With what’s being billed as their “totally edible garden”, Grow It Yourself (GIY) Ireland will be demonstrating the potential of a suburban vegetable patch. The artisan Food Market will include a Lost & Forgotten Skills display, with demonstrations of cheese making, butter churning, apple pressing and fish smoking (no prizes for guessing where you will find me, then), while the Craft Beer Garden will be dispensing Irish craft beers, spirits and liqueurs to the thirsty among you (ok, so you might find me there too). And if, after all of that, you should feel the need for a ham sandwich, Denny, I’m sure, will oblige.

Well, would you mess with this man?

That man is Pat Conway, butchery lecturer at GMIT, and he showed the collected masses of Irish food bloggers a thing or two about butchering pork last Thursday.

Hang on there just a minute says you. Masses of Irish food bloggers?

To be fair, even I didn’t know we were so many. But last week’s Irish Food Blogger event, instigated by Donal Skehan and sponsored by Bord Bia, saw a whole bevy of bloggers emerge from behind the internet curtain and take physical shape. They came to Dublin, they saw and heard much about food and food styling, and they got swag.

Clockwise, from top left:
Lorraine Fitzmaurice on things veggie, Maire Dufficy on pork, Erica Ryan on food styling

While there was a definite emphasis on things porcine, with Bord Bia outlining their quality assurance scheme for pork and Maire Dufficy showing what to do with assorted porky cuts, Lorraine Fitzmaurice from Blazing Salads stayed pig-free with a demo that included miso pesto and spelt bread. In an attempt to distract us while lunch was being prepared, Damien Mulley talked blog marketing while Eoin Purcell did a little after-lunch blog-to-book talk. Afterwards, food stylist Erica Ryan and photographer Jocasta Clarke shared some of the secrets behind getting food to look good on camera (several of which involve glycerine, that’s all I’m sayin’).

And then there were the bloggers.

While I didn’t get to meet even half of the folks there, it was lovely to catch up with Bibliocook, I Can Has Cook, An American In Ireland, Nine Bean Row and the CheapEats folks, and to meet Smorgasblog, I Married An Irish Farmer, Dinner du Jour, Adventures in Veg, Mangoes With Lime and Supper Satisfaction among others.

And I am happy to report that my swag, which included cheese and chutney from Sheridan’s, herbs from Living Flavour, smoked trout from Goatsbridge, Good4U sprouts and seeds, and very cute homemade biscuits from Lilly Higgins, all managed to survive the post-event cider and sushi which may have delayed my return home just ever so slightly.

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Smoked Trout Dip

It’s just as well I made it all the way home with swag intact, otherwise I might have missed the experience that is smoked trout from Goatsbridge. To tell you the truth, the trout is so lovely that it hardly needs any accompaniment, apart, perhaps, from a squeeze of lemon juice and a twist of black pepper. I really haven’t done too much more to it than that here.

I did eat this as a dip with the oven chips below, but stir in some steamed new potatoes and mayonnaise and I’ll warrant that you have yourself a potato salad.

You’ll need:

• 100g smoked trout fillet, flaked and checked for small bones
• 2 tsp lemon juice
• 6 tblsp natural yoghurt
• 2 tblsp chopped chives
• 1 tsp capers (optional)
• 10-15 drops tabasco sauce or to taste
• freshly ground black pepper
• pinch of salt

You’ll also need:

• A blender or food processor to mix the ingredients – if you don’t have one, you can mix by hand.

The Steps:

• In a blender or food processor, add the trout, lemon juice, yoghurt, chives and capers (if using) and blend to mix. Alternatively, mash everything together well with a fork.
• Add tabasco, black pepper and salt to taste.

The Variations:

• You could certainly try this using sour cream or mayonnaise instead of yoghurt and/or dill instead of chives.

The Results:

• Dip for 2-3.

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Oven Chips

Well, now, seeing as next Wednesday, the 26th of May, has been declared National Fish and Chips Day by the Irish Traditional Italian Chippers Association, I felt a distinct urge to make chips to go with my smokey trout dip (it’s fish ‘n’ chips, Jim, but not as we know it!).

I based today’s chips on a method described in Cook’s Illustrated and which first came to my attention when Domini Kemp wrote about it in The Irish Times. It includes soaking the chips in hot water for 10 minutes before cooking. The idea is to remove excess sugars from the cut surfaces, which should reduce over-browning and development of a tough crust. The water should also make the interior of the chips less mealy. I will say that, in a straight comparison of chips that had been soaked and chips that hadn’t, the ones that had been soaked did come out better crust-wise.

And for those of you curious about the history of Italian chipper in Ireland, you could do worse than head over here.

You’ll need:

• 600g floury potatoes, about 3 medium-sized specimens
• approx 3 tblsp olive oil
• your choice of herbs / spices

You’ll also need:

• One large heavy duty baking tray or shallow roasting tin, or use 2 smaller tins (I used a couple of 20cm x 30cm tins) – a heavy duty tin helps with even browning.

The Steps:

• Preheat your oven to 220C. Cooks Illustrated recommends placing your shelf close to the bottom of the oven.
• Scrub your potatoes and cut into roughly even-sized wedges, about 1cm thick.
• Soak the potatoes in hot tap water for 10 minutes, then drain, lay out on some kitchen paper and pat very dry using additional kitchen paper.
• Pour the oil onto your baking tray(s) and place in the oven to heat for 3-4 minutes. Then remove the tray(s), pour the hot oil over the potatoes and toss, adding any other spices or seasonings you wish.
• Place the oiled potatoes onto the baking tray(s) in a single layer and cover with foil.
• Place into the oven for 5 minutes, then remove the foil and return to the oven for 10-15 minutes or until they have started to brown in spots on the bottom. Turn the chips over using a tongs and return to the oven for another 5-15 minutes or until nicely browned.

The Variations:

• When tossing the chips in the oil, add some crushed garlic and rosemary or some smoked paprika (or, really, any other number of herbs or spices).

The Results:

• Should serve 2, although I will neither confirm nor deny that I ate this amount in one sitting.

So, when I was invited recently to not only sample a selection of wines from Cloudy Bay, but to meet their viticulturist Siobán Harnett, I was hardly going to say no. The fact that this invitation also involved eating in Michelin-starred Guilbaud’s again was, er, a bonus – admittedly one that you might actually sell your granny for. None of your fried dandelions on the menu here, no sirree. Instead a range of delicate and impressive eats, designed to complement the ever elegant liquids of Cloudy Bay.

On the Guilbaud's Cloudy Bay lunch menu:
Stewed Basque Pepper Terrine, Croustillant of Dublin Bay Prawns (yeah, I had to look it up too - they're crispy, in other words), Fillet of Charolais Beef, Rhubarb Cheese Cake (with an eminently edible candy-striped white chocolate surround)

Located in the Marlborough region and best known for its flagship sauvignon blanc, Cloudy Bay was one of the first widely exported New Zealand wines. It doesn’t live in the cheap bracket, but mention Cloudy Bay to anyone involved in the business of importing wine here and you will quickly find that it has a dedicated and enthusiastic following.

As viticulturist, Siobán’s job is to grow grapes of the type, quantity, quality and taste profile required for making Cloudy Bay wines. Listening to her, you come to realise that behind every great winemaker is a great viticulturist, one who knows the soil and vines intimately and understands the minutiae of the effects wrought by the weather experienced during every growing season.

Getting to know the Cloudy Bay team

The wines, too, she knows well, and like any good matchmaker, she made the appropriate introductions and let us get on with the job of getting know each other. It was a pleasure to meet them all, from the crisp, sparkling Pelorus and the silky 2006 Chardonnay to the beautifully smooth 2007 Pinot Noir.

There was, though, a special place in my affections for the 2009 Sauvignon Blanc, which Siobán described (in a good way) as tropical and sweaty and had that distinctive grapefruit zing, one of the signatures of Marlborough sauvignon blanc. I had a soft spot, too, for the 2006 Te Koko. Also made from sauvignon blanc grapes, this was a mellower, less acidic and more honeyed affair. These grapes are not inoculated with a specific yeast, but, rather, allowed to ferment using the natural yeasts in the air, a process which takes longer and is more difficult to control. The result, compared to your typical New Zealand sauvignon blanc, is more bass than treble, but it was a true quencher of the thirsts in both mind and body, and very satisfying for that.

Hungry?

I hope so, because I’ve made some soup and it’s got your name written all over it.

In fact there’s enough to feed, oh, you and maybe 4 or 5 friends. And several people in Africa too.

Soup for a good cause

The Overseas Development Agency Gorta contacted me about their SoupForLife campaign, as part of which they are asking people here to gather ’round for a bowl or mug of soup on the 14th of May and make a small donation to their work fighting hunger and malnutrition in sub-Saharan Africa.
If you don’t want to make the soup yourself, a growing number of restaurants are participating by donating €1 for each bowl of soup purchased on that day (with more information available on that over at the SoupForLife blog).

But why soup?

During that most famous of periods in our history, when the entire country went hungry for lack of potatoes during The Great Famine, it was soup kitchens that fed a great number of the starving, simple as that.

Now, if you want to participate in the whole SoupForLife thing, there’s really no need to emulate famine-era soups. For one thing, it would imply a distinct lack of potatoes, which would put me right out of a soup-making job. No, it’s perfectly ok to fire away with the curried potato and cauliflower soup below or, if not that then perhaps some classic potato and leek soup or maybe some potato and lentil soup like so or like so. Alternatively, there’s Galician potato and bean soup or creamy potato, salmon and cream cheese chowder for you to try. If (gasp!) you’d like a soup that’s not quite so potato-heavy, then there are soups hereabouts made from carrot and ginger, pea and mint and tomato and black beans. And failing that, there’s always minestrone or good old Ukrainian borscht. So you really have no excuses. Go on, get your soup on.

“I’ll not starve.”

That was the thought that crossed my mind as I pondered some weighty financial issues.

“I could always live on chickpeas” (and, before you ask, there is an implied “and potatoes” in that sentence).

I know for a fact that the modest sum of €3.30 will buy me a hefty 2kg of dried chickpeas at The Asia Market. Allow me to illustrate just how many chickpeas that is:

Chickpeas, lots thereof

I adore chickpeas and would really survive both happily and well if they were my dietary mainstay. I’d eat them in Indian-style curries, stewed Spanish-style with leafy greens, in their many Middle Eastern guises (of which hummus is king), in assorted salads or cooked on a pan burger style. That jar-full, for example, would make about 200 of these little baked chickpea burgers, which would, no doubt, keep me going for quite some time…

Baked Chickpea Burgers

Dried chickpeas are, of course, anything but convenient. They do require soaking overnight and cooking for hours on end (unless, like me, you have a pressure cooker). But they are cheap. And cheap in a good, nutritious way, not like industrialised and overly-processed foods which can be made cheaply but which lose so much of their value as real food in the process. With a little bit of advance planning and perhaps a weekend at your disposal, dried chickpeas will repay your investment well.

Like a parsnip, only better - much, much better

Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting much when I finally uprooted these babies from the garden the other day. I fully expected that my first attempt to grow salsify would not have amounted to much, but instead I pulled some reasonably-sized (if somewhat forked) specimens from the ground.

I still wasn’t expecting that much when I cooked them for the first time, despite the reports that these parsnip-like roots tasted, well, much better than parsnips.

I was even skeptical about the recommendation that the best way to enjoy them was to do nothing more than have them boiled. I mean, surely some molecular gastronomist somewhere has come up with something more elaborate that than?

However.

Let me tell you that I was wowed.

Wonderfully flavoursome roots, which tasted very much like asparagus or even artichoke heart to me. Salsify and its dark-skinned cousin, scorzonera, have been around for centuries but, as my copy of Dr. D. G. Hessayon’s Vegetable and Garden Expert notes, in this part of the world, “they still remain oddities”.

I wonder why that should be.

They’re long and thin and don’t attain as much girth as, say, a parsnip. But they’re easy to grow (as evidenced, if nothing else, by the complete lack of attention they received from me), fairly hardy (as evidenced by their survival of the winter we just had) and taste bloody good.

There again, it’s not always about raw talent. Somewhere along the line, you’ll find that parsnips probably had some friends in high agricultural places. Perhaps salsify just needs a better PR machine (and hey, I’m available for a small fee).

So (in my new role as Chief Salsify Officer), I do recommend that you try salsify out if you get the chance. It’s right at the tail-end of its availability here, but you might come across it at farmer’s markets (and for those in Dublin, I have seen the black-skinned version, scorzonera, in Fallon and Byrne). And if you’re of a gardening bent, do consider getting some salsify seeds – I sourced mine from The Organic Centre – it’ll soon be time to plant and they’ll reward you well.

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Salsify Fritters

Hugh Fearnley-Whatshisname had an article on salsify recipes in The Guardian a few months back which included lots to interest newcomers to the vegetable, including a recipe for salsify fritters. I have used his version as a template here, swapping out his chili and coriander and using thyme, parsley and parmesan instead, plus some lemon juice to finish – all of which work well with salsify. You can just eat these with a dollop of yoghurt or, if you’re in a brunchy kind of humour, you might just like to have a poached egg alongside too. I know I would.

You’ll need:

• 300g salsify
• small pinch of dried thyme (less than 0.25 tsp) or use about 0.5 tsp fresh thyme if you have it
• 2 tblsp butter
• 1 egg, beaten lightly
• 3 tblsp fine wholewheat breadcrumbs
• 2 tblsp grated parmesan
• 3 tblsps chopped flat leaf parsley
• 1 small clove garlic, minced
• 0.5 tsp salt
• freshly ground black pepper
• 1 tblsp polenta
• olive oil for frying

To serve:

• lemon wedges
• natural yoghurt (optional)

The Steps:

• Scrub the salsify, peel them, trim the ends and grate coarsely. The salsify will discolour as you’re doing this, but it doesn’t really matter, as you’ll be frying it anyway.
• Place a large frying pan over a medium heat. When hot, add the butter and allow to melt.
• When the butter has melted, add the grated salsify and thyme. Stir and fry until the salsify has softened – around 15-20 minutes – then remove from the heat.
• In a bowl, combine the salsify, egg, breadcrumbs, parmesan, parsley, garlic, salt and black pepper, then divide the mixture into 6 individual patties.
• Place the polenta in a separate bowl, then dip each patty into the polenta and coat on both sides.
• Place your pan back on a medium heat and add enough olive oil to coat the pan.
• Fry the fritters until golden, around 4 minutes or so on each side.
• Serve with a wedge of lemon and a dollop of yoghurt if you like. Poach up an egg to go with them if that takes your fancy.

The Variations:

• I rather fancied trying these with tarragon instead of thyme, but didn’t have any to hand. I might try that next time.

The Results:

• 6 small fritters, serves 2 (perhaps 3 if you have a lot of other things on the plate)

And for those of you who were wondering who won that wine and chocolate, the lucky winner was Yvonne Carty, who now has her Easter nicely sorted!

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