Squashed Sage

After a warm and entertaining evening at the house of some friends and a pint at the local on the Saturday night the second Sunday in July kicked off with a garden party at a house with a back garden the size of a small village while the afternoon saw the preparation of something light and fresh to counter the fatigue I felt as a result of boiling heat.

I first made some wholemeal pastry from eight ounces of wholemeal bread flour and four ounces of low fat margarine. I rolled out the pastry so that it covered a 25 centimetre wide and two centimetre deep flan case.

As the aggressive opening guitar/ synthesizer riff of Pink Floyd's excellent 1972 offering Obscured by Clouds pushed its way out of stereo speakers I fried half a butternut squash, which I had first cut into cubes the size of a dice used in a board game with a thinly sliced red onion. I fried the squash and onion for around twenty minutes until the squash was soft enough to cut with the edge of tablespoon and the onion was translucent. I then took the dish off the heat and allowed it to cool.

In meantime I broke two eggs in a bowl and beat them hard before adding 250 milliliters of creme freche to the eggs. Next I spread the squash cubes and sliced onion evenly throughout the pastry case and then repeated the process with the eggs and creme freche. I then took several leaves of fresh sage I had obtained from the garden, washed them, shredded them and scattered them over the top of the pastry case. To finish I grated one hundred grams of Shropshire Blue Cheese onto the topping.

I cooked the flan in the oven at 180 degrees (more like 190 degrees for non-fan ovens) for twenty minutes until the creme freche had begun to harden and the edges of the flan had begun to turn golden-brown. Like the Linguine and Leeks dish this one was substantial but the creme freche took the edge of the heavy flavours of the squash and sage to make it fresh enough to eat outside in the garden as the hot summer sun beat down.

Bright and garish to match the summer flowers in my garden

Leeks of Summer

At this time of year, bearing in mind that my part of the country is at present basking in some of the most extreme temperatures it has experienced since summer 2006, it's a good idea to cook main meals that are very light and have lots of fresh ingredients. With this in my mind I set out to cook a leek and lemon linguine dish during the early part of the heatwave that took place on the first Saturday in July.

For me the taste of fresh peas and broad beans cannot be beaten at this time of year and although it was a chore shelling them for this recipe their taste was worth it as it was a far superior taste to that provided by their frozen counterparts.

The CD that played in the background of the afternoon's cooking was Pink Floyd's 1969 soundtrack to the french hippy movie More. It was certainly the case that spaced out Hammond and Farfisa Organ licks of tracks like Cirrus Minor sounded even better with cloudless summer sun coming in through the kitchen windows.

I added enough oil to the bottom of my Le Cresceut dish to just about cover it and fried two diced cloves of garlic, a pinch of white pepper and two well-washed leeks that I'd first halved and sliced length-ways prior to adding to the dish. I fried them on a medium light until the leeks began to soften and turn a very slightly rusty brown colour.

While the leeks, garlic and pepper were cooking I steamed around 150 grams of fresh peas and 150 grams of broad beans for five minutes with a generous helping of fresh mint that I'd previously plucked from the bottom of the garden. When the leeks were cooked I added the broad beans to the Le Cresceut with the juice and zest of two lemons and half a pint of dry white wine. Once I had stirred these extra ingredients into the dish I let them cook in the juice of the wine and lemons for around five minutes so as to soften the vegetables further and make them ultimately taste fresher.

I then added a small tub, about 290 millelitres worth, of creme freche together with 25 grams of grated Parmesan Cheese and the fresh peas that now smelled of fresh mint.

While these ingredients cooked on a low light I boiled in a pan 300 grams of Linguine Pasta, which is like a slightly thinner version of spaghetti, for fifteen minutes until it had softened enough to be added to the Le Cresceut Dish. At the same time as I added the Linguine I also added five stalks of fresh basil from the window box and some ground mint. Once I had stirred the pasta, basil and mint into the other ingredients the dish was ready to serve.

Although the Parmesan made the meal a little rich, as Parmesan does when you add it to any food, the wine, lemon juice and homegrown mint added a real freshness to the dish that meant it was ideal to help cool down during what was a very warm day.

The finished dish; substantial enough to fill you up but light enough to help you cope with the hot weather.

Oranges and Pomegranates

The penultimate Sunday in June was one that gave a chance to relax after over a month of being on the road to catch with a wide range of good friends, have a holiday, play cricket and attend a stag do. That morning the rain dropped heavily from the sky but it was still quite warm so I took the dog a walk round the local wood and after drying out on my return I decided to make a cake.

As it was now officially summer, despite the rain, I made a cake with the juices of two summer fruits in the form of oranges and pomegranates. The choice for music for cooking was equally summery and took the form of the Eagles' 1980 live album titled Eagles Live. The album covered the last tour before their original split and it was a tour that after its last gig saw two of band members having a fight backstage after winding each other up during the gig with numerous insults between each number.

I added 175 grams of low fat margarine and 150 grams of caster sugar to a mixing bowl, I would normally add more sugar however a recent funny turn during a midweek cricket match had convinced me I may become a full-time diabetic if I do not cut down the sugar in my diet. I creamed the margarine and the sugar together for around five minutes until there was no loose sugar left in the bowl and it had been absorbed into the margarine.

I then added gradually the yolks and whites of three large eggs to the margarine and sugar which resulted in the mixture becoming exceptionally sloppy by the time I had stirred the eggs into it. So as to solidify the mixture I added 50 grams of ground almonds and 125 grams of self-raising flour to it gradually by stirring the ground almonds and flour in a little at a time until I had a mixture which was the consistency of partially melted butter.

I poured the mixture into a pre-greased 25 centimetre wide and ten centimetre deep cake tin and then added the grated skin of an orange on top of it. I cooked the mixture in the oven for forty-five minutes at 150 degrees (160 for non-fan ovens).

While the cake was cooking I made some syrup by using the juice of two freshly squeezed oranges, six tablespoons of pomegranate juice and four tablespoons of caster sugar. I stirred the ingredients together in a measuring jug and left them to one side.

After the cake was cooked I pulled it out of the oven and poured the syrup mixture onto the top it so that it soaked into the top half of the cake which in turn gave the cake the texture of a semi-damp sponge.

The cake was ideal food for a summer meal and had a very sweet and fresh taste which was enhanced by serving it with a large pot of plain Greek Yoghurt.

This moist cake tastes even better with a spot of Greek Yoghurt

Cob of Olives

It was a Saturday in mid-May and after having some enjoyable banter with my hairdresser and picking up some Chard Seeds for use in future cooking projects I headed home and started work on some bread rolls or if you come from my part of the country, bread cobs.

With the sounds of aggressive jazzy horns from the opening track of King Crimson's challenging 1970 offering 'Lizard' spitting out of the stereo speakers I stirred together 225 grams of  strong white bread flour, 450 grams of strong wholemeal bread flour and a 7 ounce sachet of yeast in a large mixing bowl. Once these dry ingredients were properly combined I added half a pint of cold water and mixed it thoroughly into the flour and yeast which created a very soft, sloppy and sticky dough.

I realised that I needed to toughen the dough up so I put around four ounces of white bread flour into the bowl and kneaded the dough into the flour until it was dry enough to be flexible but not stick to the work surface when I rolled it out. Sometimes, depending on how well the water has been mixed into the flour and yeast, you may need a little more flour than I have suggested to dry the dough.

Now that the dough was prepared I took it in the bowl to the warmest place in the house, which is a window sill in one of the south-facing rooms, and left it to rise for one hour by which time it had nearly doubled in size.

After the hour had passed I rolled the dough out on a work surface covered in flour and then spread ten baby tomatoes, which I had halved, fifteen black olives (also halved) and the leaves from three sprigs of rosemary evenly onto the top of the dough. I then took the sides of the dough and pushed them to the centre of it so the dough resembled a huge ball filled with tomatoes, olives and rosemary.

I then cut the dough up into eight individual balls that were as large as a standard supermarket bread cob and  cooked them in the oven at 190 degrees (180 for non-fan ovens) for twenty minutes. After this period the cobs were clearly ready as their edges had become brown and crisp.

The positive thing about the taste of these cobs was that although the black olives could potentially have made the cobs taste too bitter, the edge was taken off the olives by the sweet tomatoes and the tangy rosemary which made the cobs appeal to those who do not normally enjoy olives. I took them to a gathering at the house of two of my friends that evening and the cobs complimented their excellent homemade chili con carne; which we both consumed as we sat down to watch the gripping and unpredictable series finale of Doctor Who.

Above and below: road testing the cobs with a spot of cheese