A little tribute...

There's no point to deliberate since Mother Net is full of lengthy features no further than a short google away but let us just thankfully raise a glass to the memory of Keith Floyd, THE chef on the telly. Have I never stumbled upon one of his wine infected monologues I wouldn't be typing recipes here today.

Adieu, monsieur Floyd and...

...Clive, over to me now.

Cassoulet to cry for!

I remember (even if somewhat hazily and distorted) when I was a teenager and became big enough to drink adult disapproved beverages whenever said adults weren't looking, that in those blissful times pretty much anything would do. I mean, if the party was well on it's way but the supplied fuel was running out, there were simply far more important issues than being fussy. If only there was an open 24/7 shop within a crawling distance an expedition would be assembled (usually consisting of a group of growling creatures tied together like a bundled hay to keep them vertical-ish), the last financial resources would be scraped out of the bottom of the pockets very tight indeed (how could any of us fit in those stupid jeans?) and after some sympathetic cheering from a balcony or window the human centipede would sway away and then back bringing a hefty serving of whatever was cheapest.

Youth... Never bloody again!

But then things begin to change. People grow up (or at least get older), mature (some like good wine, some like bad cheddar) and generally there's a fine chance that they start develop something of a taste. It's not something we can direct in any way, it's not anything we can influence, it is more like a gravity, that makes a cloud of dust start to revolve slowly and get closer and closer together until it forms something more substantial. And that's what happens to us as well. From the bottomless abyss of 'whatevah'-ness when it comes to drinking, suddenly we realize we've got preferences. That we prefer full-bodied red to any other and white is a no-go altogether. That whisky is better than brandy. Or other way round. That Żywiec is the best continental lager ever. And so on... Now. What all this have to do with cooking? Very little in fact, but elaborate entry always makes for interesting reading, n'est-ce pas?

Anyway, not all is lost as there is actually a tiny line of thought in this gibberish capable of taking us to cooking. Just as that stormy youth takes us all over the place without any direction, sense or purpose so are our beginner's steps in the kitchen. We try whatever comes our way just because it's new, because there's no context to it and in all our inexperience we simply have no idea what we like and what we wouldn't. It takes years and a few culinary trips around the world in 80 dishes to start appreciate some ingredients more than others, develop a particular liking for some flavours and feel more comfortable with Mediterranean cuisine than Chinese or any other way round. We grow up and mature in our preferences and without realising become specialists in some areas. Me, personally, I've just had a look back at my cook-record and can see clearly one thing - I'm a stew man! (An official, caped outfit and modus operandi yet to be confirmed...) There's simply nothing better than a generous helping of food that seems to outstretch its arms and cuddle you. A good stew is like a hot bath after taking the bus from town in December. It's like a soft and woolly blanket when you can hear outside your window how the gale and rain try to kill everything that's vertical. It's like a smile, like a goose-feather pillow, like hearing 'well done, young man' when you're five, like a knee-long jumper, like anything else in this world that gives you that warm and guilt-free sense of happiness. Is good for you because it makes you feel good and that's all you need to know.

So... if you ever wondered how to get there, here's a recipe that's just as good as Willy Wonka's golden ticket. We're going to need a couple of things and preferably a few hours for all the goodness to creep in. The dish is based on a traditional French cassoulet but with some adjustments for that little touch of originality. We'll need:

- pork (pork belly, Polish boczek, pork ribs, pork tenderloin etc., see details below)
- large onion
- white wine
- a couple of tomatoes
- tinned beans (of choice, but I recommend butter beans or any other large beans)
- red pepper (optional)
- some mushrooms (optional)
- seasoning and herbs (salt, pepper, marjoram, rosemary, bay leaves, allspice)

The choice of meat is crucial as it's going to influence the flavour of the whole dish but at the same time is fully open to personal preferences. I strongly recommend the pork belly/ribs/boczek trinity but if you prefer leaner option there's always tenderloin, shoulder or leg. Avoid loin though (traditional pork chops) as it's likely to end up very dry and there wouldn't be that much flavour to give to the stew. The cooking might take some time, but it's absolutely dead simple. Start traditionally with chopped onion and fry it with a little bit of mild olive oil (not the extra virgin one!). It'd be best if you had a casserole dish or at least a heavy bottom cooking pan so you can just carry on adding things into the same pot. When onions start getting transparent and soft add the rest of the vegetables and cook under cover for about 20 minutes until everything starts to mix together. Then add your meat (in full pieces, we'll be cutting it once it's cooked. Remember to keep the skin on the belly pork as well!), wine and herbs. Do not add salt as you might not need it at all in the end. Cover the pot, reduce fire to minimum and go and read War and Peace. You won't have to come back to the kitchen until she dies in the end.

...several chapters later...

When the smell makes your stomach try to jump out you're permitted to go and have a look. If the meat is cooked, take it out and cool it down on a side. You can loose the skin from the belly pork now and get rid of the bones from the ribs. They've given your stew all their flavours by now and are free to go. The rest of the meat cut in sizeable bits and return to the stew. Time to prepare boczek. You can find it in supermarkets but if not, use pancetta. Boczek is simply a belly pork that's cured and smoked and once you've tried it once you'll never stop salivating over it. Ever.

Ever.

The best way to handle it for this recipe is to chop or dice it very finely (you'll only need a couple of handfuls) and pre-fry in a frying pan until it's crispy. Add to the stew with all the fat that melted out. The boczek is very salty itself so that's why you need to be very careful about adding any so wait with that until you're ready to serve. At this point add also the beans and carry on cooking until your neighbours come knocking on your door with spoons and soup bowls ready. Let them have some only if they've always been very nice to you. But very nice. I mean, proper, very nice. And if they ever ask you for a recipe, tell them, that it was revealed to you by an very old French lady from just outside Toulouse on her deathbed and that a terrible curse would fall upon your head if you'd ever reveal her secret to anyone. They'll fall for it, promise.

mighty mash

The thing is... We all so love to show off. I mean, there's no deeper dungeons of depression and self-misery than a man without admirers. Think of a specimen of patheticness from Sevres and then add some. It's like listening to Portishead while burying all your relatives on a hangover. A depth three storeys beneath Mariana Trench's bottom.

Proper ugly.

And that's why it is so easy just to get carried away. To start bidding higher and higher with recipes more sophisticated and elaborate than Jonathan Ross' attempt to say 'sorry, I am an overpaid git who thinks that can get away with anything'. 

Which is fine by me.

But there are moments when it could just make sense to share some tips on absolute basics as well. 

When I started this blog it all came down to an easy way of sharing recipes with my friends who are just as much interrested in showing off about their cooking skills as I am myself. But then again, since you never know with the Internet, there is a remote chance that one day a completely lost reader that I do not know personally finds this little place and decide to spend a few minutes of his/her invaluable time to read what we're on about. And maybe that person, like my best friend (hi, Kuba!), doesn't even know that he/she can cook really well because they've never really tried since all the recipes they come across seem to be so damn complicated. And that's why I decided to throw in from time to time not as much a recipe as a little cooking help, advice, collection of tips on how to start with something easy. With a little luck, my dear colleagues will follow. And so today I'm going to start with one of the most substantial things in the whole of European food culture - mashed potatoes. And how to make it the best in the world without as much as breaking sweat.

So, obviously you need potatoes and for best result the right ones. If you go to a little high street shop just ask which ones would be best. Your local grocer will surely take a great pride in knowing his/her trade and you simply can't go wrong when following such an advice. But if you shop in supermarkets then simply read labels. There should be an explanation as to which types of potatoes are best for what. When it comes to mash, avoid the huge ones (they're for baking) and little ones (they're meant to be cooked whole or in chunks). Red ones are most likely what you're looking for.

Once you've got them, to cook you simply need to peel them remembering to cut out all the different spots you can come across beneath the skin. Depending on size it's good to halve them or even cut in smaller bits. Never let then dry and even if you peel them to be cooked later always make sure they're kept in some cold water. When your spuds are naked, wash and rinse in cold water and for cooking make sure there's always enough water to cover them. Ideally you'll have 1-2 centimetres of water above potatoes. Always cook in salted water even if your mum never used to do it that way. It may be only one or two teaspoons of salt but the difference in flavour is simply unbeatable. And then you simply boil them until soft. Irecommend trying them with knife. If the blade comes in and you can feel very little resistance, then you know the time has come. Now, here's a point when I'm going to ask you to perform some actions you'd probably never seen to be done when preparing mash. Because you not only need to drain your potatoes but dry them as well. There are two ways of doing that. You can either drain them in a colander and then return to your cooking pot or put the cover on leaving a little gap on one side and drain the potatoes that way (just remember to use some oven gloves!). Then return the pot on the fire (small to medium) and keep going for about a minute or two, shaking the pot vigourously until you can see that the potatoes are dry and start breaking. That bit is absolutely essential if you want to end up with a mash that's fluffy and light otherwise everything would be muddy and soggy.

Time to mash.

Take as much of it as you need. Now, you might have heard from different sources that little lumps in a mash are OK. That they even should be there. That it's a real secret of the trade and that's what REAL proffesionals do. So please, let me explain. These are exactly the same kind of people who would tell you that your newly fitted wall socket SHOULD be hanging on bare wires. That your new front left tire SHOULD be bigger than the right one to compensate a natural tendency of your car to pull a bit to the left while driving. And that nothing else could be done with it, actually and it's a known fact among people WHO KNOW. 

You get the idea, I suppose. 

So, simply as that. Mash equals smooth. No discussion. And once it is smooth we can proceed. 

Put the fire back on (again, not too big) and add an honest knob of butter and a few splashes of milk (although not-so-guilt-free double cream would be much superior) and seasoning. That can consist of little bit of Maggi, some rosemary, thyme, marjoram, parsley. Experimenting is always welcome. Stir everything patiently and if everything went right you should end up with something that looks and behaves like a proper bread dough.

Done.

To serve you can always sprinkle some fresh chopped parsley on top as well.

And if you ever want to try something a little bit dofferent, you can always do your mash without any bells or whistles. Just boil your potatoes as above, mash them and serve straight. Without adding any milk, butter, herbs or extra seasoning. It may sound a bit rudimentary but as for a flavour you might be in for a surprise!

Fabadas

Right! Here is a dish I did for the first time last night. I humbly served it up to this blogs founder and his good lady wife. It was met with approval: what greater accolade do I need! It is my attempt at a traditional Asturian (Northern Spanish Region) dish which I gorged myself on a few years ago.

We went to Asturias for a summer holiday and stayed at a lovely B n B right on the coast. On the first night we ate in the B n B's restaurant, ordering Fabadas for two as we had read that this was a particularly typical dish. We were presented with a large bowl of very rich, hearty stew of pork, large beans, chorizo, etc. that left us little room for pudding. Over the week we were all but adopted by the lovely family who ran the place. They normally catered for Spanish tourists, so we stuck out a bit, but I speak fluent Spanish so we made inroads fast. On the last night we decided to order Fabadas again as our farewell meal. Our now doting hosts shortly brought to the table - with some pride - an enormous tureen filled to the brim with the same gorgeous fare as on our first night. In some confusion I explained we'd only ordered for two to which we were given the smiling response 'Yes, no problem: eat!' Well, suffice to say we did our best, but we probably tried a bit too hard to avoid seeming ungrateful. We did eat most of it: we did not sleep well! What wouldn't I have done for a mint tea that night?!
Nevertheless, I cherish the memory of this wonderful dish and was pleasantly surprised by how close to the original flavour this concoction comes.

Ingredients (for 4)

1lb and a half / 700g of pork belly
1/4lb / 250g of lardons
3 inch length of chorizo diced into medium-sized lumps
2 or 3 inch slice of black Pudding chopped into medium-sized lumps
Tin of butter beans
Tin of flageolet beans
2 Onions roughly chopped
4 or 5 cloves of garlic chopped chopped into two or three pieces
White wine
1/2 to one teaspoons of smoked paprika
A few saffron strands
Salt and pepper
3 bay leaves
Handful of Rosemary
Handful of Thyme
Handful of Parsley

Method

Heat a little olive oil in a large, heavy-based pan and fry off the garlic and onion until soft. Meanwhile drain and thoroughly rinse the beans, leaving them aside in the sieve. Stick the slab of pork belly, the chorizo and the lardons in the pan and cover 3/4 of the ingredients with freshly boiled water and a very generous slosh of white wine. Bring to the boil and then drop the heat to a simmer. Add the saffron, paprika, bay leaves, rosemary, thyme, and salt and pepper and leave to cook, covered, for 1 and 1/2 hours.
Give it all a good stir and add the beans and the black pudding. Top up the liquid with another generous slug of wine and continue to simmer uncovered for another 1/2 an hour or so. You want to end up with enough liquid that you are ladling a thick stew-like broth into your bowls, so guage the liquid and the amount to reduce it by accordingly. Before serving, remove the pork belly and tear or cut the meat  and bone into more manageable chunks so that everyone gets a look-in. 
Serve in bowls with some nice bread and a sprinkle of parsley over the top.

Tips

This is one of those dishes that will taste even better if you cook it the day before, allowing the flavours to steep; but then you've got the problem of resisting that gorgeous rich aroma....
Fabadas is so named because of the large beans used in the stew, called fabes. So, if you can find fabes use them instead of the butter and flageolet beans.
Black pudding doesn't exist in Spain. They have their own blood sausage called morcilla. I think that morcilla tastes much better, so again use this if you can lay your hands on it.
Equally, get the very best, smoky chorizo you can find. It is the chorizo, along with the paprika, that imparts much of the richness and smokiness that characterises the dish; so don't skrimp!
If you're going really authentic, lardons are the English equivalent of 'tocino' (bacon cut 'the wrong way' so that you get a lot of fat); but tocino does taste a bit richer in my opinion.
I didn't bother but chucking in a ham bone with some meat still hanging off it would work very well and can be found in a traditional fabadas stew.
This last tip is just a hunch that I will try some time, but cider is another famous product of the Asturias region. I reckon that replacing the wine with cider would be very effective indeed. If anyone out there tries it this way, please let me know!

Drink

I would either go for cider, due to the Asturias factor. Asturian cider is available from Booths in the UK! It's a sparkling version so you don't need to worry about the messy pouring technique: it is traditionally poured into the glass from a great height in order to oxygenate it (it really does make a difference; I tried it both ways). Otherwise I would recommend one of Sheppy's bottled dry ciders or Dunkerton's Black Fox, the latter having a lovely smoky flavour of its own.

For wine I would go for a medium-heavy red such as Marques de Riscal Rioja or the Chilean Cousino Macul Merlot. If you want to bring out the earthier tones of the dish go for a French Bourgogne Pinot Noir (not New World as it's a completely different animal). If you want something tighter to offset the fattiness then how about a Cabernet-Franc? Not so easy to find, but it could make a good partner.

Finally, on the line of the fattiness in the dish, you do have the option of a white sparkler. Cava is obviously a serious consideration, but champagne would be a decadent and unconventional accompaniment. For somewhere in between, try the New Zealand Pelorus - the vintage Chardonnay-Pinot Noir (silver label) rather than the non-vintage Chardonnay. 

Whistle while you work!

Album 'Ciudad de las Ideas' by Vicente Amigo
Anything by Paco di Lucia, Al di Meola, and John McClaughlin (amazing!)
Album 'Al Amanecer' by Jose Merce
Concierto de Aranjuez. Either the Narciso Yepes or Paco di Lucia versions.

The traditional music of Asturias is a sort of Celtic folk, but I would go for the above any day!

are-you-taking-the-piss pasta

Cooking... An ethernal battle with the elements - fire, water, jar lids. An epic struggle between the spirit and the matter. Between a man and his overgrown ambitions. Between griddle- and the saucepan. Between Chinese and Italian. Let's face it - cooking is not for the faint hearted, limp-wristed, nor Mac owners. It's for men and that means men with the persistence of Icelandic fishermen, desperation of Ukrainian coal miners, precision of Audi engineers, balance of a ninja on a bamboo straw, palette (it would almost work if it wasn't in the writting, this one...) of Renoir, gadget know-how of Desmond Llewelyn and the apparition of George Clooney.

Men who take the task at hand seriously, who would rather loose a limb than let the imperfection slip in, who never joke about rotten eggs (there are things you simply DO NOT joke about) and who think that science is a younger, demented brother of chef-istry.

Men like us.

And that's why I called this recipe 'are-you-taking-the-piss pasta'. Because you simply take some fresh or dry, wide and flat pasta (tagliatelle or pappardelle), onion, mushrooms, sour cream and some parsley and cook it in a simplest way possible.

Dice onions, slice mushrooms and cook under cover until soft, pour the cream in and cook untill reduced, add salt/lemon juice/a wee bit of white wine and black pepper, chopped parlsey and hot, cooked pasta. Stir well and serve. All done in 15 minutes. That's less than picking up the phone, ordering a take away and delivery time. 

I know... not that manly after all. But so bloody good! And remember to put a little bit of duck fat in or otherwise people are gonna thing you're some sort of vegetarian.

And here's the result:

Spicy Salsa

I thought I would chuck this in to accompany either of the two versions of Chili con Carne to be found on this blog. This was pretty much the first foody thing I ever made up myself and its success, albeit at a university student party, made me wonder if maybe I might be an ok cook. How's that for an invitation to every put-down under the sun?! Anyway I still make it from time to time at the behest of my beloved wife. I make no apology for the vaguery of measurements. You should really taste and adjust the salsa so that it suits you: my quantities change according to the ripeness of the tomatoes, the lime, my mood, what colour my underpants are...well maybe not the latter...Anyway, it's really easy to do, but don't leave any leftovers for more than a few days in the fridge as it goes off quickly. No idea why considering the lime juice and chilli it contains...

Ingredients

Fresh, very ripe tomatoes roughly chopped
Jalapeno peppers
Juice of 1 lime
Red onion diced
Tomato puree
Red sweet ( bell) pepper
Fresh chillies finely chopped and/or chilli powder
Lea and Perrins (Worcestershire Sauce)
Seasoning
Sweet Paprika

Method

Bung all of the ingredients into a glass/pyrex bowl and mix well. Taste it and add more of various things listed above until you get the flavour you like. Chill it in the fridge for a while, covered, before serving.

Tips

If you can be bothered, you can blast the tomatoes and peppers under a really hot grill until the skin blisters then leave them covered to soften in the resulting condensation. Then peel off the skins. I have also come across recipes that suggest de-seeding the tomatoes too, but I never bother!

Chili con Carne

My great friend and founder of 'Let it simmer...' has recently posted his own anarchic version of this dish, but, fortunately, Chili con Carne (literally Chilli with Beef) is unlikely ever to have one definitive recipe. So here's mine. I've never made a Chili from a recipe, so this has sort of evolved over various years. I'm sure it will continue to evolve for some time too. Therefore there is freedom of interpretation here. I haven't been too specific with quantities and invite you to tweak it to your own tastes. Let's face it: many of these ingredients vary considerably in strength as does everyone's sensitivity to hot flavours; so even if I were to put down precise amounts it wouldn't necessarily work for you. Here we go...

Ingredients

1 onion roughly chopped
4/5 cloves of garlic roughly chopped
the best lean beef mince you can afford! Quantity depends on what you serve it with (see below) and how hungry you are.
Tin of plum tomatoes roughly chopped
Fresh ripe tomatoes roughly chopped
Tomato puree
Tin of kidney beans, canellini beans, or bortelini beans drained and rinsed
Fresh chillies finely chopped
Cayenne pepper
Green bell (sweet) pepper you guessed it: roughly chopped! 
Red bell pepper roughly chopped
Lea and Perrins (Worcestershire Sauce)
Balsamic Vinegar
Red wine (see below)
Juice of 1/2 to one lime
Seasoning

Optional extras

mushrooms
jalapeno peppers sliced

Method

Heat some olive oil in a large bottomed saucepan and fry the onion and 2/3 of the garlic until they start to soften.
Tip in the mince and brown it off.
Now add the tinned tomatoes, fresh tomatoes, a good slug of red wine, the beans, and the fresh chillies.
Turn the heat up high to reduce some of the wine and juice from the tinned tomatoes and stir regularly so that it doesn't stick.
Turn the heat down again while there's still too much liquid and add a healthy squirt of tomato puree, a dash or two of Lea and Perrins, Cayenne pepper to taste, the seasoning, a dash of balsamic vinegar, and the lime juice. If you're adding mushrooms chuck these in now too, but Jalapenos should be left till the end.
Turn the heat up again until the liquid has reduced to a thick, tomato-ey coating over the beef and vegetables. If you're using, chuck in the jalapenos and stir them in just before serving.
Serve according to your chosen method (suggestions below) and enjoy!

Tips

The key to getting a really rich flavour is, in my humble opinion, to reduce the liquid thus intensifying the flavours. When you turn the heat up it should really spit and splutter. Be generous with the likes of the red wine and then keep reducing: the flavour can only get more intense! If you want the best results this needs to be made at least 24 hrs in advance and then left to steep in the fridge. The longer you leave it, the richer the flavours become.

Not sure how much chilli to throw in? Just bite the tip off the end of the chilli to see how hot it tastes and judge from that. Go on, it won't hurt that much!!

Never use wine you wouldn't be prepared to drink with the meal: if it tastes rubbish out of the glass, it will do no favours for your cooking either.

Serving suggestions are many and varied.
You can simply serve it with rice (ideally brown, but basmati is good too).
Alternatively, warm some fajita wraps for 15/20 seconds and layer the chili with refried beans, salsa (recipe coming very soon), grated cheese, sour cream, guacamole, more jalapenos...you get the idea.
Chili is also brilliant just served in a big bowl with a chunk of bread.
I often take the congealed leftovers from a chili night and make a sandwich! Delicious.
Then of course you have the options of things like baked potato, potato wedges, tortillas, etc.

Drinks

If you're a beer drinker then I would go for one of two options:

Option 1 (clean my palate please!) = Budweiser Budvar / Co-op's 'Czech' lager

Option 2 (even more flavour please!) = Goose Island IPA / Chimera IPA / you get the idea...

If you're a wine drinker then we're talking a big gutsy Shiraz or a New World bordeaux copy, i.e. a Shiraz/Cab/Merlot blend. Or how about Chile's 'Cousino Macul' Cab sauv?

Music while you cook!

I don't have anything with a Mexican bent really, so Latin American is the nearest I'm gonna get:

'A Toda Cuba Le Gusta' by Afro-Cuban Allstars

'Calle Salud' by Compay Segundo

Anything by Orquestra Baobab

'Domino' by Vieja Trova Santiaguera

'Mambo Sinuendo' by Ry Cooder and Manuel Galban

chilli con horne

Yup, that’s right. It’s all getting better and better. Last time it was all about crime, and this time it’ll be about sex. And crime. Sort of...

As for crime, again, let’s talk about theft. This time I went even further and stole a recipe not from a cookbook, not from a TV show, but from a proper book, like the one you read for... well, reading I guess. I stumbled upon it a few years ago and seeing it there, squeezed between the pages normally shut tight and collecting dust on a bookshelf I’ve decided that it has to be retrieved, freed and cherished. Which must have been the author’s intention anyway. I mean, would you (being Neil Gaiman and stuff) ever included in your very popular book (American Gods by the way) a recipe for a chilli con carne hoping that no one would ever attempt to cook it? Come on! That’s like hoping that no one’ll ever see your picture on the Facebook.
So, that’s the crime sorted. What about sex then? Simple. A good chilli needs to be hot, right? A couple of jalapenos, some Tabasco, cayenne for real hombres and whatever else you can think of. I mean... if it doesn’t need to be served in a lead or marble bowl, if it doesn’t eat spoons making slurping noises, if it doesn’t glow orange and doesn’t make your house plants grow elephant trunks and tentacles – chilli it ain’t. Which means that, yes, you do need an asbestos stomach and titanium rectum but there are benefits as well. First, you save on energy bills in the winter. Second, you save on food, because for the following three days your mouth is so badly burnt that even sipping water at room temperature makes you feel like you were trying to feed on coal. And last but not least your blood starts to run quicker, you get a slight adrenaline rush and you become more sensitive to stimuli. And that means of course that should you desire to carry on with the evening in a romantic fashion, it’ll feel better. 
And now, since I’ve got your full attention, let’s get back to cooking. What we need is:

- minced beef
- large onion
- cherry or plum tomatoes
- red kidney beans (tinned)
- mushrooms (optional)
- lemon
- paprika, black pepper
- fresh chilli and/or marinated jalapenos and/or cayenne pepper
- ground cumin and coriander
- fresh coriander (a bit of an aphrodisiac in it’s own right actually)

What we do is quite obvious. Start with dicing the onion and cooking it with a little bit of olive oil on a frying pan under cover until soft. Then add chopped mushrooms (if used) give it a few more minutes and add the meat. Remember to use a wooden spoon and a lot of patience (as well as a wrist stamina, ehem) to break all the meat lumps so we end up with rather dry mixture and meat bits the size of (more or less, of course) rice grains. When the meat starts getting brown and stick to the pan a little bit add halved tomatoes and cook until tomatoes break completely. Then squeeze in juice of half a lemon and add your seasoning and spices and as a last go the beans. Depending on how moist is your chilli so far you can drain the beans or add them with the water they come with in the can. Serve on rice garnished with fresh coriander.


And if you think that the introduction to this recipe promised far more than a quick and unexpected ending I’d just like to remind you that I’ve warned you at the very beginning, that I was going to talk about sex...

The Best Sweet and Sour Sauce

When I say "The Best..." I haven't nicked it from the local supermarket! I dare to name it thus because this recipe has now caused a number of recipients to change their minds about liking Sweet and Sour in the first place (my beloved wife included). In short it bears little relation to the monosodium glutamate drenched, hideously red gloop that passes as fare in a number of take-outs: this is Sweet and Sour you could serve to guests! 
I was going to say that the dry cider is the key to this wonderful concoction, but really there are any number of imaginative - and simply proportioned - ingredients that are essential to the final, delightful result. The method is so simple too. If you enjoy this sauce half as much as family Boyes does then you are in for a treat!

Ingredients (sauce for 4)
50g (2oz) butter
2 medium-sized onions finely chopped
2 medium rashers chopped lean bacon
2 tablespoons tomato puree
300ml (1/2 pint) dry cider
150ml (1/4 pint) water
1 tablespoon demerara sugar
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons Lea and Perrins (Worcestershire Sauce)
2 tablespoons Mango Chutney
3 teaspoons Arrowroot
I also chuck in a few chopped pineapple rings for some extra fruityness

Method

Melt the butter in a large sauce pan and fry the onions and bacon until soft and brown.
Add all remaining ingredients except the arrowroot.
Bring to the boil stirring and simmer for 15-20 mins uncovered.
Blend the Arrowroot with 2 tablespoons of water (this will involve little vigorous stirring) and then add it to the pan and cook it stirring for 1 minute. That's it!!

Tips

If you aren't familiar with Arrowroot you'll find it in the bakery section of your local supermarket. It's an excellent thickening agent. The thing is it doesn't need cooking to activate - like cornflour for example. However, if you cook it too long the thickening will stop working. Also, Arrowroot gives a slightly gelatinous consistency to a sauce which is great for Sweet and Sour.

Obviously this is just the sauce. I generally fry off some sliced chicken breast or leftovers from a roast and stir it into the sauce at the end. For a more special result dip chicken or pork in a light batter and fry until golden.

Boil some rice, serve it in a circle, dump the meat in the middle, and pour the sauce on top. Job's a good'un!

Drinks

For accompanying drinks I would go for dry cider or a nice, chilled Gewurtztraminer.

Music while you cook!

'Shanghai' (from Album 'Here be Monsters') by Ed Harcourt
'Singapore' (from Album 'Raindogs') by Tom Waits
Sound track from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon...?

the fish soup a’plenty (but not for lazy people)

Generally, cooking is about stealing. Which, of course, doesn’t mean you should storm out of your local grocery store with pockets filled with spuds and squashed tomatoes. What it means is that recipes are pretty much copyright free. And I’m not referring to Jamie Oliver’s books on the Internet which, of that I’m certain, he personally ‘leaks’ himself. I’m talking about ideas for food that seem to roam free the arch-egalitarian cuisine-sphere. 

Not so long ago I’ve stolen the idea for a fish stew from a certain cookbook. Yes, I do own said cookbook and I did pay money for it. Still, I was performing a full bodied, two bollocked, and cold blooded, adjective-filled-with theft. And that’s because I’ve read the recipe, cooked the dish and claimed the credit for it.

I’m a very naughty boy indeed.

Let me show you how bad I was on an example. Imagine, I bought a new album of (insert-name-of-your-favourite-artist-here), made a copy and presented it to you as my own work. The fact that I’ve done some minor alterations to the artwork on the cover using a marker pen and not very accurate idea of how moustache should look like, would hardly let me defend my case. Although some could find it mildly amusing it’d be generally hard to imagine I could successfully fool anyone with IQ higher than an average MP. And even they don’t exist in real life, only on TV. Anyway… here I am, with a Portuguese fish stew on a plate claiming it my own. And why would I get away with it?

Because I’m right, that’s why. Because there’s RIAA’s way and there’s Laibach way. And when Laibach recorded Let it Be album they never called any of the The Beatles songs on it ‘cover version’, they called it an original work of art. And I’m a devoted Laibach fan.

It’s exactly same story here. You may follow a recipe like Tony followed His (Texan) Master’s Voice but whatever you cook will always end up just a little bit different, than the same dish cooked but someone else. Or by you but on a colder day. For anyone with enough of culinary imagination for putting some dried tea leaves in a cup of hot water there is simply no way of not adding some personal touches or, over a time, complete makeovers. And especially in a case of a recipe that seems to be incredibly similar whether it’s Portuguese fish stew or Russian fish soup – uha, it’s simply impossible that anyone could ever claim any copyrights. And here we are – the closest to communism on Earth than a man has been since the Garden of Eden. And therefore I command you to steal my recipe, cook the dish and when serve to your friends or family simply just claim all the credits. You’ve got an absolute right to do so!

Here it is:

- carrots (1-3, depending on amount)

- fennel (1-2, depending on size)

- large onion

- leek

- quarter of a celeriac (grated) or two celery sticks

- big parsnip (grated)

- at least one red pepper

- tomatoes (tinned or fresh)

- potatoes

- fresh parsley, coriander

- garlic

- fresh chillies (as hot as you prefer)

- fish (see below)

- fish stock, oyster sauce

- salt, pepper, bay leaves, paprika, cayenne (can replace fresh chillies)

- white wine (optional)

As with all one pot dishes around the world this one allows a fair amount of freedom. The choice of fish is mainly up to you, same as whether to use any seafood or not. Want to use both? Here’s my blessing, child. For a start I’d recommend an easy option. Go for frozen. You definitely want some white, fleshy fish, so nice haddock and cod are perfect. Add some salmon (but not too much, salmon’s got quite a lot of fat and may become overpowering while what we’re looking for is a mixture of ingredients that would complement each other), maybe tuna. I even used tinned once pouring all the brine in as well and it worked just as nicely. The rule of thumb says that you should have at least three different kinds of fish each representing different flavour. And remember not to go over the top with the amount. We’ve got a lot of other ingredients so you’re most likely to end up with enough for the next day as well.

So… we start like 80% recipes in the world, from dicing onion. Can be finely, can be coarse, it’s a matter of taste and overall presentation in the end. Olive oil, deepish pan, cover and we move to the peppers. Wash, cut, remove seeds, chop (here small is better as we leave the skin on) and add to onions. Next goes fennel (wash, chop, add) and carrots (peel, slice, add). Let everything cook under a cover until you see that everything goes soft. Then goes the leek (wash, slice, etc) and cook again for about 5 minutes. After that is time to change the guns for the artillery. Put everything in a deep hob and pour some liquids. Now this will be either dry white wine, dry white wine and water or just water. Wine adds to the cot but even more to the flavour. As for the amount, let’s say that the veg at the bottom account for about 0.3-0.25 of the whole dish. Then we add the grated parsnips and celeriac, tomatoes and cubed potatoes. Now, if you’ve decided to be brave and go for fresh pomme d’oro, you need to do this: drop them in boiling water for about five minutes, cool down and peel the skin of. Squeeze to get rid of the wet bits (be careful here, it’s going to squirt like on an Asian porn movie), and quickly fry a bit with some olive oil. You should get a nice, thick pulp in no time. Add to the soup. Start seasoning (use 4-5 bay leaves) according to taste, but be really generous with paprika. You want red. Red is good. Be bold with fish stock and modest with the oyster sauce. The first one is most likely to be not very concentrated, the latter, very much so. Now, the reason why we must use them is that the fish goes in at the very end and without flavouring before we’d just simply end up with vegetable bullion with bits of fish swimming rather dully in it. Once finished with all that, have a little break until the potatoes re cooked soft. When that happens, simply add the cubed fish, stir well, kill the fire, cover and after five minutes then garnish with fresh herbs and you’re ready to shine in front of whoever you’ve invited for a dinner.

Just remember to cook it well before your guests arrive. The whole thing may easily take up to three hours.