A Cook's Library

Olive Oil Tasting

2010-07-07T08:23:17Z

I’m still determined to shop local whenever I can but there is one thing, absolutely essential to my cooking that cannot be produced here (though with global warming I’ve heard talk that it is only a matter of time) and that is olive oil.

Good olive oil forms the backbone of much of my cooking and the flavour of a quality oil from an early harvest is second to none. But sadly olive oil has become ubiquitous on the shelves of British supermarkets, so much so that it is hard for many people to judge whether an oil is good or not. And whilst I like to hope that I have a reasonably discerning palate, I couldn’t guarantee it. Luckily my self-doubt was not put to the test. Orietta from Oliodivino who gave me my tasting lesson, does not (unlike some wine snobs I have encountered) practice the ritual humiliation that is blind tasting; sending people into an exam-pass-or-fail panic is pointless, learning what makes a good and what makes a bad oil in an objective, comparative way is the aim of the exercise.

So here I am with an authentic blue tasting glass before me (forget dunking in stale bread, WHY do all those vendors of fine oils at food fairs insist on you tasting it on a bit of old baguette?) The glass is the shape of a cognac glass and is blue so as not to let the colour of the oil, which is NOT indicative of quality, distract the taster. It is also bulbous so that the flavour can be freed with a good swirl of the glass, just as when tasting wine or cognac.

Olive oil is subject to very strict regulations and the terms ‘Extra Virgin’ or ‘Virgin’ have very specific meanings. All oil to be labelled extra-virgin is laboratory tested for levels of free oleic acid (this is what we colloquially refer to as acidity level in oil although it is clearly not the same kind of acidity one might find in a lemon for example); the extra-virgin oil is then assessed by an expert tasting panel to ensure that the taste it is of a quality that can be labelled extra virgin.

If the level is below 1% oleic acid it can be called ‘extra virgin’, between 1% and 2% the parameters are relaxed for a ‘virgin’ oil. Higher than 2% and it is known as what the Italians call ‘lampante’ or ‘for the lamp’. This level of acidity would make an oil totally unpalatable and so this low-grade oil is mixed with a little extra-virgin oil for a passable (though far from good) taste before being legally sold as plain ‘olive oil’; sadly for the national palate this is the kind most frequently bought in this country.

There are various other terms you might come across in your olive oil quest. ‘Light’ is a newly popular and largely meaningless term (certainly if you think it refers to fat levels) simply referring to a less flavourful oil, probably as a result of more refining or perhaps an older oil. Pomace olive oil is a substance you should avoid at all costs; this oil is chemically extracted from the solid residue of the oil left after first cold pressing with the use of solvents and heating processes; it is then further refined to remove unpleasant tastes giving an end result rather like plain ‘olive oil’. Suffice it to say it is almost never seen on a shelf in Italy.

For olive oil aficionados and discerning home cooks alike there are several things to look for when buying an extra-virgin olive oil. Bear in mind that fine oil, like fine wine can fall within a vast price range, and whilst good oil is not as cheap as a supermarket own-brand might be, exorbitant price is not always a sign of good quality.

First, only ever buy oil in a dark bottle: light, along with heat and open air are the enemies of olive oil; bear this in mind and never store oil in a clear glass jar, in direct sunlight or left uncapped – store in a cool, dark place and use a bottle quickly. Olive oil must be obtained by mechanical means (rather than by chemical extraction as seed oils are) and is often referred to as ‘cold-pressed’ although any oil that makes a big deal about pressing at super cold temperatures is playing on the public obsession with obtaining pure, raw oil. Some heat is always generated when olive oil is pressed but only mild and not enough to damage structure or flavour. ‘Mechanical’ is the key information to watch for.

Other good things to look for are early harvest, a specific harvest (as in 2009, new harvests are pressed between September and November) and a production from olives confined to a small locality, for example ‘single estate’ oils.

There is a method to tasting oil, rather like tasting wine, I learned today. Pour a little into your glass, cup in the palm of your hand to warm it, cover and swirl around. Smell it. Breathe the scent in deeply – what do you smell? Freshly-mown grass, artichokes, herbs, green tomatoes, leaves – these are the most common, and promising aromas from a good, fresh oil. Traditionally the palate is cleansed between tastings with a slice of green apple.

Sip just a half teaspoon then ‘strip’ (a technical term) the oil by inhaling a sharp breath through gritted teeth and open lips (think yoga breathing!) so that the droplets of oil are forced quickly backwards, sending their flavour molecules bursting onto your tongue, roof of your mouth and back of your throat. Taste with the tip of your tongue at the roof of your mouth, the most sensitive part to different tastes. Then feel the peppery hit at the back of your throat.

There are three tastes to balance: ‘Dolce’ (sweet) ‘Amaro’ (bitter) and ‘Piccante’ (a spicy, peppery quality unique to olive oil). Only when all three of these are in harmony do you have a truly fine olive oil.

So, having dealt with the nice things, now for the unpleasant possibilities. Here are the most common defects to look out for in an olive oil.

‘Riscaldo’ refers to a partial fermenting of the olives by heat if they are not taken from their sacks immediately to be pressed but are left to stew. (In fact, olives are usually kept in crates as in sacks they can be crushed. Olives that are wet, crushed or bruised are unfit for pressing).

‘Morchia’ is the term for the dark sediment at the bottom of a bottle of olive oil. Whilst a little of this is no problem, too much, particularly at the bottom of a large storage silo whilst oil waits to be bottled will quickly taint a large quantity of oil.

‘Rancido’ The most obvious defect is rancidity. When an olive oil goes rancid (think butter that has turned) you will know about it quickly. This happens with excessive oxidation of the oil as a result of exposure to air.

The most useful thing about a professional olive oil tasting session is the comparisons. Really it is only possible to judge two or three oils at one tasting if you are unused to it but it is surprising how different they can be. Choose different nations (Italy and Spain for example) and different harvests (an older oil will taste flatter) and you will begin to discern these differences. Whilst you will never attain the level of a professional taster who will tell you exactly which olive, from where, when it was harvested, how long it sat in its sack before reaching the mill and so on, a thoughtful tasting it is an interesting and worthwhile exercise for our often un-exercised palates and one that will help you identify whether you are helping or hindering your cooking with an oil that is good or inferior.

If you would like to book a professional tasting session contact Orietta at Oliodivino

Broad Bean Puree

2010-07-06T09:32:59Z

It’s broad bean season, a sign that summer has well and truly arrived. I used to hate broad beans; they featured in my childhood as rubbery, grey, bitter, shrivelled little anomalies on a plate of otherwise fine roast lunch. Then I got interested in cooking, starting reading cookbooks and discovered the fava bean.

Of course NOW I realise these are one and the same but to a student, newly possessed of the first, and we forget how revolutionary now, River Café blue cookbook, the fava bean summed up the difference between English and Italian cookery. Or the difference between the grey-green brain-like bean of my childhood and the crunchy, bright green, vibrant nugget that features in risottos, soups and salads across the Mediterranean.

Later I discovered Alice Waters and felt I had finally found someone who completely epitomised my approach to cooking and to food in general with her championing of local producers, seasonal dishes and simple treatment of the finest ingredients. I can’t remember in which of the (many) Chez Panisse cookbooks I own that I read a description of all friends, family and passing strangers being enlisted in the great fava bean peel for an important restaurant event.

Why such a lot of peeling, I hear you ask? Well, unlike in this country where most people pod the beans, cook and serve them in their outer skins it is possible (and I think more delicious) to double-pod the broad bean right down to its emerald centre. When I tried this it was a revelation. The inner green beans, slipped out of their often-tough outer skins (only at the very beginning of the season when broad beans are tiny is it pleasant to eat the whole bean) are sweet, delicate, crisp and delicious. And really, once you’ve got the hang of double-podding your beans there is a pleasant rhythm to it. Rather like shelling peas, this is best done, sitting in the early-evening dying sun, glass of cold wine to hand, good company to chat with.

Sadly, more often my meal preparation is less idyllic and I am doing this task in a sweaty kitchen with a small child to hand. If this strikes a chord with you take my advice and put the small child to work. My two-and-a-half-year-old daughter is remarkably adept at removing broad beans from their pods, I think it’s a combination of those tiny fingers, just the right size to slip the beans out and the sharp fingernails she routinely refuses to have cut, so she can easily slit the tough skin of a bean pod. And, unlike her six-year-old brother, she is happy to help without asking for extra pocket money for doing an extra job.

Once she’s podded the beans, I blanch them momentarily in boiling water – or if not in a hurry pour a kettle of boiling water over them and let them sit for five minutes. Drain and cool quickly under cold water to stop them cooking – if you overcook the entire bean will turn mushy and refuse to separate from its outer skin.

Then – this is a knack but not one that is too hard to master – take your thumbnail and nip off the very top of the outer pod, then squeeze the other end and the inner bright green bean will pop out (or across the kitchen more often than not). If it doesn’t pop out easily, your beans are bigger and older and need a longer blanch in boiling water to loosen them.

Once done you will have a very small seeming (sorry) pile of beautiful green beans, a large pile of sad grey discarded skins and an even larger one of bean pods. If you don’t compost your vegetable waste yet, now is the time to start. (Unlike pea pods which are actually worth boiling up for a light summer stock, broad bean pods are hopeless, bitter and furry).

I use fava beans in many ways: as the base of a salad dressed with lemon vinaigrette and mint, maybe with some goats cheese on top. They are sublime with all manner of salty ham, prosciutto or bacon and shaved parmesan or pecorino too. In a summer minestrone or risotto they add brilliance and bite, but today I am playing it simple and making a broad bean puree; excellent on bruschetta, as a side to grilled or barbecued meat and even fish.

One last note, I usually make this by blitzing the almost-raw beans, garlic, oil and lemon in the whizzer until it makes a chunky puree, but today for once I followed Alice Waters’ recipe to cook the double-podded beans until collapsing, then mash. I’m sorry but I am not convinced her method is better. Although the taste is intense, it lacks the sweetness and more importantly the bright green appeal of my original version. So apologies for a somewhat inaccurate (i.e. dull green) picture – next time I make it my way, I’ll switch it over!

Broad Bean Puree

1kg broad beans

50-75 mls best olive oil

squeeze of lemon juice

salt and pepper

1 clove garlic, crushed to a paste

Remove the beans from their pods then blanch for a minute in boiling water. Cool quickly under the cold tap.

Remove the bright green inner beans and discard the tough outer skin.

In a blender or a pestle and mortar, mix the beans, oil, lemon, garlic, salt and pepper to a rough paste.

Adjust seasoning and serve on toast, or as a side to meat or fish.

Recipe Card

Compromise in a Local Kitchen

2010-07-05T10:28:51Z

I went to the Farmers’ Market this morning as part of my drive to shop local wherever possible. In summer this is no hardship with the abundance of local fruit: strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries and even some English cherries were in evidence. Vegetables too are looking good: pencil-thin courgettes with the flowers still attached, buttery-soft heads of lettuce, bunches of baby carrots with fronds waving merrily, baby beetroot with tops so fresh they are a vegetable for free and herbs, both plants for the garden and fat bunches to take home.

From the fish stall I bought two bream, landed yesterday afternoon; from the butcher a fine-looking chicken and some rump steak for steak tartare and eggs with bright yellow yolks, laid just days ago.

All of this is delicious and a fine haul for a weekend of good cooking and eating but without the right things at home in the cupboard to transform these raw ingredients into meals I wouldn’t get very far. Unfortunately this is also my sticking point when it comes to eating local.

I was inspired by reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: Our Year of Seasonal Eating where the author and her family spent a year deliberately eating food produced in the place they live; the ultimate local food project. The part that struck me immediately was the family’s choice of just one imported, non-local foodstuff that they could not live without, coffee was the ultimate luxury for one family member, dried fruit another.

What would my imported necessity be? Well, there are more than one: off the top of my head, olive oil, pasta, rice, grains – although English spelt, both flour and grain and English barley and oats are staples – meaning I can make my own local-ish bread (my sourdough starter is SW19 yeast through and through!) And lemons, spices, vinegar, although I have been promised a vinegar ‘mother’ so only a matter of time before I make my own, albeit with well-travelled wine.

Anyway, I am not being as strict in my quest to live local as Kingsolver and her family so in this spirit I have decided to offer a pared down list of what you should keep inside your ‘Green Pantry’ in order to make the most of using fresh local ingredients. With this lot in store you’ll be able to rustle up something tasty to eat even if the only fresh ingredients you have on hand are some herbs from the garden.

It is a harder-than-you-think challenge to eat only local produce (and I’m giving myself a wide berth with the better part of southern England) but even if you keep your fresh shopping local and your store cupboard dry ingredients as the ones that come from elsewhere you are doing a lot to help the environment, farmers and your health too. If nothing else it will keep you away from processed foods, the biggest enemy.

As I’m listing less-perishable ingredients I might as well give you a list of my essential fridge/freezer ingredients too, so that you never have to pick up the phone and dial a ‘local’ (ha!) takeaway.

For where to buy many of these staples look at my Where to Buy Good Food page.

PANTRY STAPLES

Extra Virgin Olive Oil (Try a variety for taste until you find one you like.)

Red and White Wine Vinegar

Salt (A local mineral salt is essential, either Maldon Salt or Cornish Sea Salt)

Peppercorns

Spices and Chillies (according to personal preference)

Pasta – good quality white and farro/wholemeal ribbons too (look for artisan Italian)

Grains: Farro (Italian) Spelt, Barley, Oats, both groats and rolled for porridge; all this can easily be grown in this country.

Rice: Risotto and Wild are my staples. (Italian and Canadian respectively are best). Italian black rice I also like very much.

Dried Beans and Lentils: chickpeas and haricot are most useful beans, French Puy lentils or small, green Umbrian.

Flour: White Strong for bread-making in combination with wholemeal, spelt or rye. Plain for cakes/biscuits, wholemeal/spelt for tart cases.

Tins of tomatoes, tomato puree, passata: Buy best quality for winter use; likely to be Italian unless you can your own.

Salted Anchovies (I’ve listed these with store cupboard items because they keep for months but keep them in the fridge, tinned anchovies an alternative).

Capers

Wine (for cooking and drinking, or rather for drinking then cooking with leftovers)

Honey (raw and unprocessed if you can get it)

Baking goods: If you bake regularly keep unrefined sugars, or better still rapadura sugar, fine flour, vanilla essence, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda in stock.

PERISHABLE STAPLES

Milk (raw if you can get it, otherwise whole and preferably not homogenised)

Cream (similarly unpasteurised has a better flavour and performance in the kitchen)

Cheese (particularly Parmesan as a fridge essential)

Eggs

Chicken Stock (always have some in the freezer)

Butter (also freezes well)

Garlic

Bread

Lemons

Onions/Shallots

Carrots

Celery/Fennel

Fresh herbs and salad leaves (growing in your garden/window box is best)

Look Local for Real Food

2010-07-02T18:37:39Z

Today I went to the launch of the new Real Food Markets at London’s Southbank Centre. The market, which will run on the first weekend of every month, but if successful may run weekly, aims to give Londoners the opportunity to buy quality, fresh produce direct from the producer. It is not all local (not that any of the food suffered from it) from what I saw of the producers today – perfectly ripe French cheeses from Mons fromager-affineur, and excellent Austrian wines by Merry Widows Wine – but the vendors are all local, small businesses who know their produce inside out, are happy to answer questions, supply samples and build a relationship with their customers.

This spirit is what Rosie Boycott, Chair of London Food, sums up when she speaks of ‘the importance of local food’ and how ‘these markets will bring food back to the streets’. She goes on to describe how every town would once have had a local weekly market and it is time to bring back the food that was once very much ‘in their midst’. The aim of London Food, Boycott explains is to ‘champion London’s vibrant and diverse food sector in order to boost accessibility to healthy, locally sourced food.’

Nothing could be further from the truth in a culture that has come to rely upon out-of-town hypermarkets, stocking imported produce or even home-delivery, without the social contact with producers and vendors. Yet in London we are reasonably lucky with regular Farmers’ Markets and local independent retailers. There are initiatives to grow and supply vegetables from plots within London itself – for example Growing Communities has pioneered urban food growing in Hackney and now supplies salad for their box schemes as locally as you can find it.

The Women’s Food and Farming Union’s London branch has also raised awareness of the importance of buying local and has teamed up with the People’s Supermarket, the brainchild of eco-chef Arthur Potts-Dawson from Acorn House Restaurant. This membership foodstore, staffed by volunteers in order to keep food prices affordable champions fresh, local and seasonal produce and the WFU has thrown down the gauntlet with a challenge to shop local, avoid supermarkets (although they acknowledge the increasing effort made by some supermarkets to encourage British producers).

This is something close to my own heart, as anyone who has read my Shopping Beyond the Barcode rant will know. So, with all these forces for good at work I am going to attempt to put the premise to the test, do my bit and only buy local, seasonal British-grown/reared/made food this week. Tomorrow is my weekly Farmers’ Market, where I am guaranteed that everything is from within the nearest 100 miles so that’s a good place to start. We shall see how easy and how practical it is to shop local.

Watch this space for updates and confessions I expect, I’m already thinking of all my daily ingredients that have no hope of growing on these shores: olive oil, lemons, parmesan, pasta, risotto rice. I know the Savvy Cook is embarking on her own Look Local challenge, to ‘(re)connect with your local community and retailers, support British Farmers and growers and help reduce our collective carbon footprint’ as she nobly puts it. We’re planning to compare notes so maybe between us we can make it easier for the rest of you!

Peter Rabbit Lettuces

2010-07-01T15:57:06Z

Call it global warming but the balmy, breezy English summers of yesteryear seem to have departed for more northern climes leaving southern Britain in the grip of a Mediterranean heat-wave. Not that I should complain, it was only a short month ago that we were wondering if we would have a summer at all, having survived one of the coldest winters in living memory.

But, needless to say, we are complaining, it’s HOT. Hot on the tube, hot in the shops and hot, hot, hot in the kitchen. And believe me, with the size of our kitchen, the temperature is probably pushing 40°c. So with cooking looking less appealing with every rising degree it is time to turn to salad and here is one English delicacy I am never tired of: a green and gentle lettuce.

A head of soft buttery lettuce (the ‘Peter Rabbit’ lettuces as I like to think of them) is a lovely thing. Not that I don’t like a bunch of rocket, some peppery watercress or spiky mizuna (and in fact these stronger-flavoured leaves seem more appropriate to this intense heat) but I have a soft-spot for an old fashioned blowsy lettuce of the kind that graced the soils of Victorian kitchen gardens. Today, in fact, lettuce growing is becoming very popular amongst home-gardeners although you need to be vigilant about keeping slugs and snails away – try anything you can bar resorting to environmentally unfriendly slug pellets.

And there is nothing better than selecting a lettuce for lunch fresh from the garden – this is one foodstuff that starts to lose its appeal from the moment of picking onwards. Once you have harvested your lettuce washing thoroughly is essential, hidden nasties do not for a pleasant lunch make. The easiest way to do this is in a sink or large bowl full of ice-cold water. Treat your leaves delicately, swishing each individual one around a bit, letting the dirt settle to the bottom of the bowl then removing to the salad spinner.

A salad spinner really is pretty essential equipment if you are a big lettuce eater as dressing won’t stick to wet leaves and in any case soggy salad is unpleasant; if you don’t have one pat them individually dry, gently (and laboriously) with kitchen towel or a clean tea towel.

Once clean and dry I find a simple, mild vinaigrette the most appropriate dressing for sweet lettuce leaves. A simple ratio of 1 part vinegar, lemon juice or verjuice to 3 parts olive oil, whisked in the salad bowl with a little ground sea-salt and pepper is pretty perfect (too sharp is fatal and overpowering so test and adjust accordingly.)

For a gentle flavouring of garlic, rub a cut clove around the edge of your salad bowl before putting the other vinaigrette ingredients in. I also very much like a herb dressing – these kinds of delicate lettuce leaves marry well with a scant teaspoon of finely chopped, similarly soft herbs such as tarragon, chives, and chervil.

Make the dressing in the salad bowl you are going to serve your lettuce in and gently toss the leaves with clean hands; this is a lovely sensual experience, particularly appropriate if you sown the seeds and grown the lettuce yourself. The perfect local, seasonal and sustainable lunch.

What’s in Your Child’s Lunchbox?

2010-07-01T13:31:32Z

I have a dilemma of the worst sort. One that makes me feel like an unkind mother. You all know how I feel about processed food, junk food, the importance of feeding children fresh, local produce and shopping outside of the supermarket as much as you can, (if you have missed my periodic rants on these subjects read my posts on Shopping Beyond the Barcode and How to Get Kids to Eat Well) well, it’s not always easy to practice what I preach. And one of the hardest times is when it comes to packing my six-year-old son Ollie’s lunchbox, particularly in the face of pleading for the processed delicacies (not) his friends bring out every day.

When Ollie was younger I didn’t have any of the problems. At aged three and four he, as most children do, ate what was put in his lunch because it was what he ate it at home. So a summer lunch might be cold sausages and borlotti bean salad a couple of English tomatoes, an apple and a plain tub of yoghurt (usually decanted from the farmers’ market bottle – try the exquisite buffalo milk version from Alham Wood Organics who do many markets). And if he was lucky there might be a square of dark chocolate, though I try to avoid the ‘treat’ mentality of lunchbox packing.

No matter that his friends were eating processed ham on white bread, a bag of Hula Hoops and a sugary yoghurt with Thomas the Tank Engine on it. At that age he didn’t notice, though some of the mothers did and I took a little gentle ribbing about my rare-breed sausages and freshly-podded beans.

By the time children start school however, peer pressure is starting to kick in and Ollie’s most-requested items (actually he doesn’t pester much because he knows the answer is a flat ‘no’) are chocolate spread sandwiches on white bread, cheese strings (aaaaaagh!) and those Muller Corner yoghurts with the chocolate balls.

So, if you are like me and believe in avoiding processed foods, paying for branding, food engineering and food marketing, and perhaps know a little about nutrition and how important it is for school-children in particular to get quality and sustaining food, from wholegrains, protein, fruit and vegetables, to last through the day, what DO you pack in their lunchbox?

Oh, and this is the bit that makes me feel like a bad mother – often his lunch comes back almost un-eaten although to be fair I think that is as much about wanting to get out to play as anything else and he often polishes it off in the playground after school. But I WORRY. Of course I do. The boy has to eat!!

Planning a lunchbox requires creativity. Each child is different, so you have to play around a bit but I have found that Ollie often leaves his bread though might eat his filling. So if I make a sandwich (maybe it’s the home-made sourdough that’s letting me down?!) I fill it thickly with cheese and salad – he is a rare child who loves lettuce. Or I pack oatmeal biscuits instead. Or even a piece of my home-made Pizza.

Leftovers from supper the night before are often successful – leftover farro pasta (or any wholegrain pasta) with a protein-based sauce (this Bolognese Sauce is extremely nutritious) or cold grain salads, like barley or risotto (this Chicken and Barley Broth will cool down in the fridge into a risotto-like mass, fork it through a bit and voila!)

Today he is taking a cold version of last night’s Borlotti Bean Minestrone – all the broth got eaten as it’s everyone’s favourite bit so the leftover beans and vegetables with a splash of oil make a fine cold salad. (I’ve just unpacked his bag and this was all eaten . . .result!)

Talking of salads, or rather of dressing I have yet to meet a child that doesn’t like vinaigrette or some kind of balsamic dressing. Make a small portion of this in a pot for dipping raw carrots, tomatoes and cucumber in. Hummus or any other dip also goes down well. Cold boiled eggs are a staple in Ollie’s lunch, as he actually loves them and this is one of the best lunchbox additions as eggs are SO nutritious and will keep your child going all afternoon.

Once you start thinking outside the box (or rather inside it, excuse the pun) the possibilities are endless. Cold chicken with Mayonnaise, cold sausages, slices of good-quality ham or chunks of farmhouse cheese; try and get some protein in if you can.

For the ‘treat’ element, which I dislike the concept of, although in practice it’s nice to have a pudding, fresh fruit is obviously the best choice – seasonal if you can which is easy in summer with a tub of berries. Most children like apples and pears, although bananas, if squashed make the worst mess. Failing that, good quality plain yoghurt with a spoon of honey or some home-made fruit compote stirred in, some dark chocolate or if you want a true sweet at least make it yourself. This semi-sweet Oat Biscuit recipe is good as is this Polenta Cake which if you make in a rectangular tray can be cut into handy small pieces. For special treats and cooler days try a small piece of Chocolate Brownie.

We have been taking lunches to school and work for hundreds of years – picture the tin pot with stew of the mine-worker, the thick slabs of bread with an equally thick slab of cheese of the field-worker and of course the traditional Cornish Pasty with its pastry case covering meat and vegetables one end, sweet fruit the other! And we managed all these without the help of the food- manufacturing industry and the marketing department of the supermarkets.

So, really it’s not that hard to pack a lunch that is full of real food rather than ‘foodlike substances’. All you have to do now is persuade your child to eat it, not the easiest thing I know but if you persevere and start them young they will get used to it. It’s worth it – they might even thank you when they are grown up and healthy, even if it does make you feel a little like a heartless mother for a moment.

Kohlrabi, Courgette and Pecorino Salad

2010-06-28T12:52:08Z

No it’s not a triffid in the garden, lured here by sub-tropical summers and global warming, it’s actually a kohlrabi, admittedly looking slightly odd with the absence of its leafy top but, as with all roots, if you want them to stay their best in the fridge past a day or so you really need to chop the leaves off.

Kohlrabi, described by Wikipedia as ‘a low, stout cultivar of the cabbage,’ does not sound appetizing. But, as this is the second time I have had one turn up in my organic box I feel I owe it the odd root to find a noble way of serving it. The last one I roasted (as is my standard fall-back treatment of any root vegetable I don’t quite know what to do with); it was perfectly nice in the way of roasted swede and turnip.

But then I found a recipe for kohlrabi, crab and apple salad in Skye Gyngell’s excellent book My Favourite Ingredients and thought I would try it raw, it being so hot you could fry an egg on our garden table today. Skye describes is as ‘an underrated vegetable that deserves more recognition,’ and as I am so sympathetic to both her cooking style and purist approach to ingredient provenance I felt optimistic.

How right Skye Gyngell is! Kohlrabi is DELICIOUS raw, sliced as thinly as you can it has a green-tinged translucent appearance and a milky, peppery crunch. I had no crab or apple – though I can see quite how these would go well – so have instead created a raw courgette (or zucchini for overseas readers), kohlrabi and Pecorino salad.

The River Cafe first introduced me, in their simple yet ingenious way, to raw courgettes, which is delicious as long as you find super-fresh, preferably small courgettes and slice, dress and serve them with haste. As so many British gardeners have a glut of these vegetables during the summer it could become a staple lunch or side dish, simply dressed with this lemon vinaigrette and cheese.

It annoys me that people write Pecorino off as a substitute for Parmesan. They are ENTIRELY different. At this time of year this usually 100% sheep’s milk cheese (though for some producers at some times of the year, a mixture of cow’s and sheep’s is used due to scarcity of sheep’s milk) can range from pale, verging on semi-soft and not too aggressive to the sharp and tangy crumbly cheese so good for grating over salads. The one I am using is Pecorino di Fossa from Umbria that matures for ten months, partly in an Apennine hollow (or ‘fossa) covered with herbs and spices, giving it an earthy, vegetal smell and delicious flavour. (Find this and many other Pecorino cheeses at La Fromagerie.) Of course, should you prefer, a good Parmesan works well too!

Kohlrabi, Courgette and Pecorino Salad (Serves 4)

I small or ½ large kohlrabi

2 fresh, small courgettes

200g Pecorino or Parmesan

1 tbsp lemon juice

3-4 tbsp best olive oil

salt and pepper

handful of finely chopped parsley

Peel the kohlrabi and slice as finely as you can.

Leaving the skin on, slice the courgettes as thinly as you can on an angle so you get long ovals instead of small circles.

Peel off shards of the Pecorino with a sharp knife.

Make a vinaigrette by whisking the lemon juice and olive oil and a little salt and pepper until it emulsifies. Adjust the seasoning remembering the cheese is salty.

Assemble the vegetables attractively on a plate and drizzle over the dressing. Scatter the cheese on top. Finally add a sprinkle of parsley.

Serve immediately with good sourdough bread.

Recipe Card

Lemon-Olive Oil Mayonnaise

2010-06-27T10:43:05Z

Went I went to the market I bought 36 delicious, fresh, rare-breed eggs, in colours ranging from snowy white to speckled brown, with deep orange yolks that prove the birds’ free-range, varied grass and herb-rich diet. We eat a lot of eggs in our house. It is my staple low-cost (even the more expensive market ones are cheap in comparison to quality meat or fish) source of protein and eggs, particularly the yolks, are really extremely good for you. Full of choline and vitamins A and D, a couple of eggs a day are as good as a multivitamin.

Sadly, on the way home I broke five. This is not unusual, as I am invariably balancing numerous canvas bags full of market delights on the back of my daughter’s buggy (I love those re-usable canvas bags and always carry a few but the handles are just TOO long for the handles of a pushchair. They drag and bump the wheels and make my feel I should be carrying a ‘wider than average load’ sign.)

I unpacked the sodden cartons with a heavy heart but managed to salvage at least three almost-whole ones and a couple of yolks. Omelette for supper is no hardship and neither is saving a couple of egg yolks, the whites already lost, with which to make fresh mayonnaise.

Fresh mayonnaise is nothing like the shop-bought kind. I usually make a lemon olive-oil version which some people can find overpowering – the scratchiness of olive oil on the back of the throat takes some getting used to, but when cut through with the sharpness of the lemon, the tang of sea-salt and all emulsified beautifully with those fresh yolks, there is nothing better – with asparagus spears in season (goodbye, lovely asparagus, we’re just coming to the end of the UK season) other briefly blanched vegetables, cold chicken, shell-fish, wild salmon – the uses for this sauce are endless.

I was long afraid of the splitting-potential of making mayonnaise but (fingers crossed) this has honestly only happened to me once and I think the egg was not so fresh. I usually use only one yolk as mayonnaise is rich and even one makes a fair bit, but experts advise making with two as it makes splitting less likely and fresh mayonnaise actually keeps for a week or more in the fridge. I also make it by hand – not even worth the bother of getting the mixer out and having to wash it up.

Those afraid of raw eggs have come to the wrong place as I, you might have noticed, feel that most produce if reared well and naturally and on a farm that has a good reputation and hygiene standards is perfectly safe raw (see my raw milk and steak tartare posts if you don’t believe me!) Eggs are still suffering from the salmonella smear campaign, unjustly as it turned out, but I will take my chances. Standard advice is for pregnant women and those with compromised immune systems to avoid raw eggs, but these ironically are just the groups who benefit most from then nurtrient-dense egg yolk. I happily ate raw egg yolks when pregnant – never whites, undercooked whites are hard to digest and act as a nutrient-blocker – but always yolks, soft in boiled eggs and raw in mayonnaise. But you must make your own mind up.

So here is my mayonnaise recipe – made from the rare-breed yolks and the organic olive oil I have recently fallen in love with. Choose an oil that is not overwhelmingly strong, but NEVER choose something labelled ‘light’ or claiming not to have a strong flavour, deodorised oils are not great. For different reasons (will explain another time, but something to do with too many omega 6 fats in our diets already) I am not a fan of sunflower oil, though many use this for a neutral mayonnaise (greasy I fine, anyway). Some say cold-pressed rapeseed oil is good for you and excellent in mayonnaise but I still prefer olive oil myself.

Lemon-Olive Oil Mayonnaise

2 super-fresh, best quality egg yolks

the juice of half a lemon

300 ml extra virgin olive oil

salt

Break the egg yolks into a bowl being scrupulous not to get any white mixed in.

Whisk the yolks with the lemon juice and a good pinch of salt until mixed.

Using the best bubble whisk you have start pouring the olive oil (from bottle or a jug) drop by drop, whisking all the time as the mayonnaise starts to emulsify. Once you have incorporated a little you can add slightly more each time but be careful.

If the unthinkable happens and it does split you can rescue it by breaking a third yolk into a separate bowl and whisking the split mixture into the new yolk, again drop by drop.

Adjust the lemon juice and salt seasonings.

Keep in the fridge and use to jazz up all kinds of meals.

Recipe Card

Spinach, Anchovy and Parmesan Tart

2010-06-26T08:38:36Z

Today the fridge presented me with a fait accompli, as did the weather, perfect for a picnic, but no bread so WHAT to take. In the end I decided on a tart from the still-good spinach from my organic box, some salted anchovies that I keep meaning to use (though they keep forever) and a crusty old end of Parmesan. Oh and some cream almost on the turn (though unpasteurised cream and milk sours far more appetizingly than supermarket stuff, not that I am a big fan of curdled milk. Apparently, the guys at Grove Farm on my raw milk round post actually get a fair number of orders for souring milk! Each to their own.)

I decided to turn this lot into a tart as my Italian friend from Olio Divino who supplies me with large boxes of delicious organic oil from her family farm in Castel Madama, had also given me some organic farro flour (I’ll call it spelt for ease, as you’re most likely to find that over here to use in the pastry), from a mill in her home town, ground beautifully finely, although it is a wholemeal flour, and ground recently too, so it’s lovely and fresh. We forget but flour is not quite the long-lasting dry good we think it is, quite the opposite; it will go rancid relatively quickly and its nutritional profile dips soon after grinding too.

So with the flour, her oil and what’s in the fridge there is a nice little seasonal story appearing. Call it OCD but I like it when things fit neatly together: the local (to each other, if not to me) flour and oil, the seasonal spinach, the clearing of the fridge, the using up of ingredients just on the cusp of being their best. It all ties itself up very tidily thank you very much. And gives me a delicious tart to take to the park.

Spinach, Anchovy and Parmesan tart

For the pastry:

70g lightly salted butter

1 generous tbsp best olive oil

150g fine spelt flour

For the filling:

25g unsalted butter

2 tbsp olive oil

400g spinach

250ml double cream

1 large egg, 2 egg yolks

6 well-rinsed salted anchovies, to give 12 fillets

2 tbsp grated Parmesan cheese

Pepper

Whiz the short-crust pastry ingredients together to form a ball and chill. Roll out thinly (patching up holes as you need to) to line a 25cm tart tin.

Preheat the oven to 180°c and bake blind for 15 minutes, then remove the beans, prick the base and bake for a further 5 minutes.

Heat the oil and butter in a pan and add the spinach with a grind of black pepper (you should not need salt) and let it wilt down

Whisk the eggs with the cream and Parmesan.

Blitz the wilted spinach and filleted anchovies briefly in the blender then mix with the egg/cream/cheese mixture.

Pour into the pastry case and cook for around 30 minutes.

Allow to cool and serve.

Recipe Card

Organic Box Schemes: Riverford Farm

2010-06-24T21:11:35Z

I read a review in the Observer the other week about the Riverford Field Kitchen and how excellent the food was. Why this should have been surprising I don’t know as all the produce from Riverford Organic Farm that turns up in my weekly vegetable box is delicious. And the last time I visited Riverford – if you ever drive down to Devon it is only minutes off the main road – it was pretty good, and not yet becoming so well known – I really must go again soon. And if you can’t face the five hour trek from London to the West Country the Field Kitchen is going on tour so look at the Riverford Farm website to see when it might be near you.

The reason the Field Kitchen is appearing in the press is obviously the news that it is on the move but also because the food is excellent – Jane Baxter’s River-Café trained cooking talent showcases seasonal food in dishes that sing with vitality, making you feel that you are eating more than JUST vegetables.

Now you might have noticed my cheese obsession if you read this blog regularly, and also my defence of good meat, so you might be surprised to hear how much I LOVE vegetables. If I didn’t believe it was, in really very small quantities, excellent for health I could probably give up red meat entirely, chicken stock, the base of much of my food I couldn’t live without. Similarly if I don’t eat enough vegetables in a day I feel, quite simply, wrong.

In his book In Defence of Food, Michael Pollan quotes Thomas Jefferson’s advice to treat meat as a ‘condiment for the vegetables’, which is something I instinctively do in any case. Partly because a great slab of meat feels weighty on the digestive system, and partly because the kind of ethically and fairly-raised animals that are the only kind I will buy (see my Why Eat Grass-Fed Meat post for further explanation) are expensive, so it makes economical and health sense to have a little of a good thing but not too much.

Vegetables on the other hand, it is hard to get too many of. My husband always claims the reason he finishes supper first is because my plate is so piled high with foliage it takes forever to chew. (Not, that he wolfs food down or anything?!). He has a point. A whole bag of greens, a few carrots and some freshly-podded peas wilted down with a splash of oil and sprinkle of sea salt is the perfect foil to a piece of fish or meat. And making a vegetable the centrepiece of a dish is actually entirely possible, particularly the meatier summer vegetables like aubergines and peppers (stuffed anyone?)

The cooking I love best is ingredient-led, taking top-quality produce and treating it simply gives the most elegant results. (I really noticed this last week when, against my better judgement I made my butternut squash and coconut soup with an obviously ancient, soft butternut. It was inedible.) So field-fresh, muddy seasonal vegetables are my idea of heaven, and Tuesday’s weekly arrival is truly a box of delights.

I wrote a few days ago about trying to shop ‘beyond the barcode’ by using farmers’ markets and local specialist shops and this is another way of doing so, and one that is particularly worthwhile if you are keen to buy organic. Sadly, since the supermarkets have cottoned onto the fact that organic is a trendy buzz-word that helps sells more expensive produce, the organic industry has exploded (only a matter of time before we see organic Coca-Cola, I’m sure they’re working on it). In practice this means that much organic produce suffers from the too-early-picking, air-freighting and packaging to prolong shelf-life that ordinary produce has long been subjected to. It is not necessarily true of all supermarket organic produce but if you want LOCAL or SEASONAL and organic, a box scheme is a better bet.

Riverford uses Wash Farm in Devon and regional sister farms to deliver 47,000 boxes a week. They are rigorous about offering home-grown produce as often as possible (more so than other box schemes I have used, they aim for 80%) and have carefully worked out that it is environmentally less harmful to import from Southern Europe than to grow under glass in the UK. They have even bought a farm in France (reasonably close considering they truck to London) to fill the ‘hungry gap’ we suffer from in this country between April and May when UK produce is scant. Environmental impact is kept to a minimum in other ways too: delivery is part of a pre-set round on a particular day, packaging is returnable and they even post which box has the lowest carbon footprint on their website and weekly newsletter.

The two objections that are made to box schemes, particularly ones like Riverford where the box contents are set (although you can add vegetables and fruit, as well as meat, fish, dairy, bread and dry good, to your weekly order) is that you get a load of vegetables you don’t know what to do with and that they are expensive.

Well, the expensive criticism has been dealt with by Riverford themselves. On average, they reckon their box contents are 20% cheaper than buying all-organic in the supermarket, and you’re treading a lighter carbon footprint (unless you walk to the shop, and strip off all the packaging at the checkout, making you look very militant, and even then it’s debatable who wins).

The second point, the no-choice/what if you don’t like it, factor is understandable but here it pays to think outside the box, if you’ll excuse the pun. I chop and change my box a little as they list each box contents a few days before delivery, but on the whole there are maybe two or three things in each box I wouldn’t have chosen to buy at the market. This is good. I make myself cook new things (the blog helps with this too as feel duty bound to post recipes outside my comfort zone from time to time), I eat new things, I remember I like different things, my children remind me THEY like different things to me (cucumber? No point except in gazpacho to me, my son will eat it by the stick).

All in all, as long as you have a shelf of cookbooks (for vegetables Chez Panisse Vegetables and Nigel Slater’s Tender are both invaluable as they give a handful of recipes for each vegetable, perfect if you are stuck with a kohl rabi or too many swede. Oh, and a determination NOT to waste anything helps too. You might even find something new you really love; failing that almost anything will go into a soup of some sort (look at my Soups post for endless suggestions on how to use up wilting vegetables).

When I was young(er!), single and only cooked pasta I worked amongst the glamorous people at Vogue House and one I befriended – ok, idolised – had a weekly organic box delivered WAY before in was uber-trendy. I was transfixed. Clearly this was the height of sophistication, the non-sophisticated way if you get what I mean. Well, it may not be sophisticated in the Manolo-wearing way working at Vogue was, but as Jay Rayner, who wrote the piece in the Observer I mentioned earlier admitted, maybe he is missing something by not joining the ‘snobby middle classes’ in their loyalty to the Riverford box scheme.