Currants and Rum

It was the penultimate Sunday in October and I was unwinding after an enjoyable catch up with a couple of close friends, who were expecting a new daughter, the previous evening and the shock of having to don a boiler suit and oxygen mask and boiler suit to salvage my fire-damaged office towards the end of the previous working week. As always after these kind of events I headed for the kitchen to try and make something new.

I had forgotten to buy raisins to go with the rum I found at the supermarket so instead of rum and raisin slices I elected to make rum and currant slices.

The soundtrack to the rather long process of preparation was Steely Dan's 1980 album Gaucho, a record that although highly listenable with the odd moment of inspiration does suffer a little from over rehearsed songs and the fact that its composers were taking a family-sized amount of Class A drugs during the recording. For the second part of cooking I listened to John and (his then wife) Beverley Martyn's turn of the sixties offering Stormbringer! an album which contains some of John Martyn's best early songs such as the powerful slow-burning title track, the haunting harmonies of Traffic Light Lady and energy of Go out and Get It. Beverley Martyn also does her bit with above-par singing on several songs including the excellent self-penned Sweet Honesty.

I greased a 20cm by 20cm baking tin, that had high sides which were around 10cm tall, with a paper towel covered in margarine. In a bowl I mixed together four tablespoons of dark rum, which I had been asked for ID on when I purchased it the night before even though I am well over the legal drinking age, with two and a half ounces of currants. I then left the bowl to one side so that the rum would soak into the currants and make them bloated.

I then put seven ounces of dark chocolate and put them in a heat proof bowl with two and a half ounces of margarine. I put the bowl on top of a pan of boiling water and waited while the heat from the boiling water melted the margarine and the chocolate into a rich, dark liquid. After I took the bowl of chocolate and margarine off the hob I added nine fluid ounces of plain Greek Yoghurt and four and a half ounces of sugar to the heatproof bowl and stirred them together until I had a very thick mixture.

I sifted four ounces of plain flour into a separate bowl and then added the currants, rum and the rather gooey chocolate mixture together with three beaten eggs. Once these items were properly combined using a strong metal tablespoon I poured them into the greased metal tin and spread the mixture equally throughout the tin. I cooked it in my oven at 170 degrees, 180 degrees if you don't have a fan oven, for about half an hour. As always with these type of dishes I knew it was ready when I poked a skewer through the middle of it and it came out clean. Once it had cooled I cut the sponge I had made into bite sized cubes.

Despite it being unorthodox to use currants with rum the combination worked well and the dark rum, Greek Yoghurt and dark chocolate gave the cake a very smoky taste which was counterbalanced by the sweetness of the sugar which stopped the smoky taste being too overpowering.

All sliced up and ready to eat.

Strong tasting but still tasty enough. 

You say potato...

The first Thursday in October was a memorable one; I did a four hour walk in bright sunlight with the dog which gave me a good chance to unwind and take stock during my week off from work.

On my return home I decided to make my tea a little more interesting by having a go at making a Potato Tarkari. I needed to cook something with potatoes as my cupboard seemed to contain more spuds than one man could realistically consume on his own.

The record of choice for today's meal was Fairport Convention's first album which is an exciting brew of musical virtuosity, covers of singer-songwriters and American West Coast music all turned inside out from the original versions. It was recorded by the band in mid-sixties prior to them turning into the somewhat cliched   folk-rock act they became the early seventies.

I peeled two large white potatoes and after washing them I diced them into cubes and steamed them for around five or six minutes.

While the potatoes were steaming I took two red onions, around four ounces of ginger root juice (if you don't want your Tarkari to be too spicy use two ounces) and then cut them into one or two centimetre long pieces. I then put a small amount of olive oil into the bottom of my Le Cresceut dish, turned on the heat on the hob and poured the onions, ginger, a pinch of mustard, half a teaspoon of paprika, two ounces of fresh coriander and a hint of saffron into the dish.

After the potatoes had softened I added them to the dish and stirred them constantly to avoid the ingredients sticking to the bottom of the Le Cresceut which would have inevitably caused trouble trying to wash it after the meal was eaten. I stirred the contents of the dish, while still cooking it on a medium light, on and off for around twenty five minutes. In order to make sure the potatoes were properly done I added an eighth of a pint of water to the dish so the potatoes could absorb it.

The dish was exceptionally spicy and definitely one for those who like their food strong tasting and tangy. As is often the case with dishes involving potatoes they provided the body of the meal and their stodgy taste was offset by the strong spices in particular the raw freshness of the ginger root. To help complement the meal, and to keep my throat damp after all the spices, I had a large glass of California Red Wine which I would recommend highly to accompany this type of meal.

Plenty of spices are hidden between the pieces of potato

Sausages and Wine (in a Casserole with Butter Beans and Tomatoes)

It was a Wednesday, it was still my week off and it was yet another day of bright sunshine. It was also another day of unwinding prior to doing another cooking project in the evening.

The dish to be prepared on this particular evening was one of my idiosyncratic takes on a traditional dish. I chose to make sausage casserole but instead of using normal sausages I used some Marjarom flavoured vegetarian sausages.

With Peter Gabriel's mature and well-wrought 1992 offering Us on the CD player I lightly fried four of the sausages with two sliced cloves of garlic, a cubed red pepper and two diced onions in some oil in my Le Creuscet Dish. As the ingredients began to cook I added half a teaspoon of chili oil, together with half a teaspoon of paprika and half a teaspoon of chili powder. These ingredients set the stage for a very distinctive-tasting and spicy dish.

After the dish had cooked on a medium to low light for ten minutes and the onions had begun to brown I added four fresh tomatoes, which I had previously sliced into quarters, the leaves of two sprigs of fresh thyme and 300ml of chicken stock. In order to make the dish a little richer I added half a pint of rose wine. This wine is usually reserved for the use of students in drinking competitions or as a pre-night out beverage of choice. However in this dish it made perfect sense as its taste worked well with the thyme and numerous spices in the dish.

I turned up the heat on the hob a little and simmered the dish lightly to evaporate the wine. I stirred the mixture regularly as it simmered for a further twenty minutes. After the twenty minutes were up I added a tin of butter beans and used a large metal tablespoon to blend them into the rest of the meal. After a further five minutes I was ready to serve the casserole.

The sharpness of the spices and fresh thyme coupled with the richness of the wine, protein given by the butter beans and the sausages made this a dish good enough for a Sunday dinner or an even more formal meal.

Just after the wine had evaporated; the dish was nearly ready at this point.

A heady mix of spices, fresh vegetables, fruit and wine all in one meal. 

Leeks a la Nicoise

On the last Sunday in September I took time out to unwind from an action-packed cricket club dinner the night before with my customary morning walk. After I'd finished my walk thoughts turned quickly to cooking and after a light lunch I set about preparing an evening meal of Leeks a la Nicoise.

On the stereo during preparation of meal was Van Morrison's well-rehearsed and fiery 1984 live album Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast and with the sounds of stabbing brass bouncing between the speakers I commenced preparation of the leeks.

It's fair to say that great care must be taken preparing leeks. The first step is to cut off the bottom of the leek and then peel the tough outer layers of the leek off while scrubbing away any dirt contained between the layers.

For this recipe I used two leeks and after I had cut the bottom parts off and removed the outer layers I washed them and then fried them lightly in some olive oil in my Le Cresceut dish until they began to brown. I next emptied a tin of peeled plum tomatoes into the dish and used the sharp edge of a tablespoon to halve the tomatoes so their juice could run over the leeks and the tomatoes and leeks would cook quicker.

After the leeks had softened a little, which took another five minutes, I added a generous helping of fresh basil and two thinly sliced cloves of garlic to the Le Cresceut dish. After first stirring the pan's contents thoroughly I cooked the ingredients on a medium heat for around twenty five minutes until I was completely sure the leeks were soft enough to eat.

I served the dish with a small sprinkling of chopped parsley. The potency of the fresh basil coupled with the tinned tomatoes and garlic helped transform the otherwise bland leeks into something with a pleasant and memorable taste. The meal was enhanced by the fact that I accompanied it with two fried Mascarpone Quorn Escalopes to round it off in style.

Freshly cooked with a touch of parsley

The meal just before I added the Mascarpone Escalopes