tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36219104147284706122024-02-07T02:18:15.472+00:00The Larder LoutYou'll never need a take-away again...The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-91170481439504103352009-12-04T15:15:00.002+00:002009-12-04T15:16:17.855+00:00This blog has movedYou should be redirected to <a href="http://jamesramsden.wordpress.com">www.jamesramsden.wordpress.com</a> shortly.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-8509565892803458432009-11-30T15:07:00.002+00:002009-11-30T15:17:17.090+00:00Moving virtual home...Dearest louts, loutesses, and loutettes,<br /><br />I am currently transferring all of Ramsden's random ramblings from blogger to wordpress. Please bear with me.<br /><br />The new site (with video channels, embedded playlists, and a real talking goat) should be up and running by Friday.<br /><br />Much love,<br /><br />James.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-2435202664417752392009-11-23T17:19:00.004+00:002009-11-24T08:45:46.711+00:00Broth for a rainy day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZI02ayLcmmgY4sQrgpSYKqrK0cKq5EMSdZneH2Woy6IOQG1TSDrSUB1Oerlm8aflpvoBLyfbGzIUlehWtOImmgtjTDGUU4EBbMlhkd-AqWa96u0-K7eZ3iI7ZelFN3ZM_1BmnQipVu3J/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZI02ayLcmmgY4sQrgpSYKqrK0cKq5EMSdZneH2Woy6IOQG1TSDrSUB1Oerlm8aflpvoBLyfbGzIUlehWtOImmgtjTDGUU4EBbMlhkd-AqWa96u0-K7eZ3iI7ZelFN3ZM_1BmnQipVu3J/s320/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407355894081463026" /></a><br />I once made this soup for my grandmother when she was poorly, devoted grandson that I am. A couple of hours later a fax arrived with a handwritten note from Grannie. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Dear Jammy,<br /><br />Thank you for the soup. It cheered me up. Just a few criticisms:<br /><br />The bits of cabbage and bacon are rather large and difficult to eat, and so as a soup it requires a knife, fork, and spoon to eat it. Perhaps next time you could chop the bits up a little smaller. <br /><br />Your grandfather says it was too salty.<br /><br />G </span><br /><br />Now there's gratitude. I'm sure Grannie was right, yet part of this soup's charm is its very ruggedness - it's big and brutish and slurpy and utterly warming; ideal for this bout of miserable weather. It is also very much a blank canvas of a soup. You could tinker around with it until the cows come home, adding fennel seed and sausage, pasta and Parmesan - even some mushrooms. It's a t'riffic <a href="http://thelarderlout.blogspot.com/2009/06/fridge-slut.html">fridge slut.</a> This is just how I happened to do it today.<br /><br />(PS <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/jteramsden/playlist/7nMwvQnnmlk6D76tGXZr4V">here is a 'music for making soup' spotify playlist</a>)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bacon and Cabbage Broth</span><br /><br />Serves 6<br /><br />150g smoked lardons, or 8 rashers of streaky smoked bacon sliced<br />2 onions, peeled and sliced<br />1 clove garlic, peeled and sliced<br />2 large spuds, cut into large dice<br />150g cherry tomatoes<br />a savoy cabbage, sliced<br />1 sprig rosemary<br />parsley stalks<br />2 bay leaves<br />1 1/2 litres chicken stock<br />Oil, salt, pepper<br /><br />Heat a little oil in a large saucepan and fry the bacon until crispy. Add the onion, garlic and spuds, along with the herbs. Season with salt and pepper, cover with a lid and cook over a low heat for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. <br /><br />Add the tomatoes, cabbage, and stock. Bring to a boil and simmer for 15 minutes, until the potatoes are soft.<br /><br />Serve as you like.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-60334395760278594202009-11-20T11:51:00.007+00:002009-11-20T17:36:24.148+00:00Pizza East, Shoreditch High Street<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqNEXRZRSrHLoq41RLkuaSHd1OJHNfW5OC2sLCqcYaFDbA7EnkEQXR91ME7a9my2EZD3C_XhltEXyPyvk3W2JaR4GBpAgSlZsObmxI_CeiCgM8o0WDu5OTFI0J-PXnL50bxETiosmZywt/s1600/PE_AM_09-121.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqNEXRZRSrHLoq41RLkuaSHd1OJHNfW5OC2sLCqcYaFDbA7EnkEQXR91ME7a9my2EZD3C_XhltEXyPyvk3W2JaR4GBpAgSlZsObmxI_CeiCgM8o0WDu5OTFI0J-PXnL50bxETiosmZywt/s320/PE_AM_09-121.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406166835593922642" /></a><br /><br />9/10<br /><br />Translation can be difficult. Different countries have different ways of expressing what is essentially the same thing, but is yet so nuanced, so finely tuned, that the merest mispronunciation can lead to extraordinary difficulties. A friend spent a year in South America, to hone what was, until then, fairly ropey Castilian Spanish. Having somehow landed a job at an international company, he was, on his very first day, ushered into the biggest board meeting of the year. All the heads of the South American arm of the company had gathered around a large table, with Jim, a six foot six, red-haired Englishman (sore thumb, anyone?) plonked at the end. And like in a bad dream he was asked to introduce himself. <br /><br />"Hola, soy Jim.....", God this is awkward, he thought - I should tell them. "Soy muy embarazado". I'm very embarrassed.<br /><br />Except that isn't what he said. "Hello, I'm Jim", he said, "I'm very pregnant". The room exploded, Jim's face fast turning scarlet. <br /><br />With the first hurdle having been limped over, his boss tried to put him at ease with some gentle, GCSE oral exam-style questions. <br /><br />"How did you get from the airport Jim?" he enquired.<br /><br />"Ah, si. Err, yo cogi un autobus. Duro cinco horas". I got a bus. It took five hours.<br /><br />Except that isn't what he said. He actually said this: "Ah, yes. Erm, I fucked a bus. It took five hours". <br /><br />Because in Castilian Spanish 'coger' means 'to take'. In South American Spanish it does not. <br /><br />And in Britain 'pizza' means 'flat bread with tomato and cheese'. In Pizza East it does not. I have been 4 times in a week, and only once has my pizza had tomato on it. <br /><br />I'll start at the beginning. Last Friday I met a friend for lunch at aforementioned and much-lauded restaurant, and I fell in love with the place immediately. It's in the Tea building on the corner of Shoreditch High Street and Bethnal Green Road, and occupies the vast, expansive ground floor. And yet it manages to be utterly cosy, warm and welcoming. The decor is a delight - proper distressed wood (not the furniture equivalent of 'faded' jeans - why spend £20 extra on jeans that look just like the ones you're replacing?), great long tables with swing-out seats, and comfy banquettes to sit back and wallow in. It's immaculate yet unfussy, the service attentive but unintrusive. <br /><br />The antipasti menu is as good a translation of Italian grub as I have seen - no half-arsed parma ham and melon here. Proper food, beautifully cooked. Over the course of those four visits I ate a pingingly fresh and elegantly presented mackerel escabeche with lentils, the criminally underrated fish soft and yielding and singing with lemon. Wood roasted bone marrow, all rich and wobbly and flecked with sea salt, was a joy, slathered on toast and crammed in with radish and parsley salad. Mussels were also wood roasted, and were just about the plumpest I have eaten.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBApcEcgdtd6zSUgVNg1GTM6mjXRDXJDxDwxnF-98S6KPsDloDirj__DTEhUX28rElXKw35412GsKgLfdOdraRL3FG-aFWTK4v54UvX1YBpM3Qn7TWWR6Un73pq-rinLGTp2ZalNhsQJzU/s1600/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBApcEcgdtd6zSUgVNg1GTM6mjXRDXJDxDwxnF-98S6KPsDloDirj__DTEhUX28rElXKw35412GsKgLfdOdraRL3FG-aFWTK4v54UvX1YBpM3Qn7TWWR6Un73pq-rinLGTp2ZalNhsQJzU/s320/GetAttachment.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406172184798804466" /></a><br /><br />But my highlight was the soft polenta with chicken livers. These are stupendous - crispy little nuggets of liver with the gentlest, warmest spicing, sitting atop a golden hillock of creamy polenta, and adorned with a piquant sauce. Potentially my favourite dish of 2009. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBP41I4OJLy8zQKSAxRG_Tv9tD6ZEMRqJp8IjFEn1J03DUmWIi8pwi-6vIJ4Ii1stoqm3D0nWoCEYd5YJBFGs_44eJWrprYzt0V7sHPXYUE_kwRw7WzJLzODMAwlCIOdsm5EAYY5pznTKW/s1600/GetAttachment-1.aspx.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBP41I4OJLy8zQKSAxRG_Tv9tD6ZEMRqJp8IjFEn1J03DUmWIi8pwi-6vIJ4Ii1stoqm3D0nWoCEYd5YJBFGs_44eJWrprYzt0V7sHPXYUE_kwRw7WzJLzODMAwlCIOdsm5EAYY5pznTKW/s320/GetAttachment-1.aspx.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406176778279869202" /></a><br /><br />Onto the pizzas, and I hope I won't risk being turned away on my next visit (which, let's face it, will probably be this evening) for saying that they're a mixed bag. A great deal of thought has gone into creating these - so much so that when I asked to substitute toppings (on my 3rd visit) I was told that I couldn't. They have been meticulous in their design, yet rigour and street food don't necessarily go together. Call me a philistine, but I simply don't think pizza needs tinkering with. The bases of these pizzas are terrific, with that magical, much sought-after combination of crispness and chew. So why the need to try and make them extra-special with bizarre toppings - sprouting broccoli on a pizza? That's a mistranslation if ever I saw one. <br /><br />Some of the attempts at ringing the tomato-cheese-pig changes do work. The veal meatball pizza with prosciutto, sage, lemon, parsley and cream is an absolute triumph, the duck sausage a glorious, rich delight. But the best pizza, like the best Italian food, is the simplest. The salami, tomato and mozzarella pizza is, while perhaps narrow-minded, splendid in its simplicity, the Margherita even more so. <br /><br />Pizza East - you had me by the jaffers as soon as I walked in. After the starters - handsome, original, stupidly scrumptious - I was thinking about leaving home and squatting on your doorstep with a sleeping bag and a fork. You don't need to fart around with the pizzas. It's like the most beautiful woman in the world wearing make-up - perhaps minutely enhancing, but completely unnecessary.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-9647368901855716972009-11-17T14:36:00.004+00:002009-11-18T18:04:56.542+00:00Ethnic Eating Experiment - Day 5 (finally)Well, after a week and a half in the editing suite the video for my final ethnic eating day is ready for human consumption. <br /><br />This really was the highlight of the week - brilliant shop, delightful shopkeeper, and a very kind friend to help with the filming. The food was delicious to boot. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxJg9xhrSxWvfs5vlhwYZw9-63CwWblKZ3DfOGs4_0wsCHOWHnYMlh80vSOf-mCI8U5hNsdrKy6iGgvD7rjuQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Aubergine Khoresht with jewelled rice</span><br /><br />Serves 4<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">For the Khoresht</span><br />1 tin of aubergines<br />1 onion, peeled and finely sliced<br />2 potatoes, sliced<br />1 1/2 tsp turmeric<br />4 dried limes, pricked with a knife<br />Water<br />Salt, pepper, oil<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">For the rice</span><br />Handful of barberries<br />Handful of chopped pistachios<br />Half a pint of rice<br />1 pint water<br /><br /><br />Pour boiling water over the barberries and leave to swell for 15 minutes. <br /><br />Meanwhile, heat a little oil in a large frying pan or wok and add the aubergines. Fry until lightly coloured, remove and add the onion. Soften, remove and add the spuds. Fry until brown, then return the aubergines and onions to the pan, along with the turmeric, dried limes, and enough water to just cover the spuds. Bring to a boil, cover and reduce the heat. Simmer for 30-40 minutes.<br /><br />Put the rice and water in a saucepan with a little salt, cover and bring to the boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for 15-20 minutes (resist the temptation to remove the lid). While your rice is simmering away, drain the barberries and press out any excess moisture. Fry in a little more oil for a minute or do, before adding the pistachios and frying for another minute. Once the rice is cooked, season with a little pepper and add the pistachios and berries. <br /><br />Check the <span style="font-style:italic;">khoresht</span> for seasoning, and walk to your nearest Persian shop. Serve to the owner with the rice and some pilfered parsley.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-24959571708973283292009-11-06T19:35:00.005+00:002009-11-08T12:00:32.074+00:00Ethnic Eating Experiment - Day 4To Chinatown, where this little piggy lost his feet. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzp0rTd38AVlHFHQz0ao3WBd4rbabrV_ONtbisHIcV4luJz_JvuD6_tsu5L9i8pPMlkNR0SaOfBJIQnBCps3g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Five spice trotters<br /></span><br /><br />Serves 2<br /><br />3 trotters, washed thoroughly<br />2 tablespoons Chinese five spice<br />1 clove garlic, peeled and thinly sliced<br />1 thumb of ginger, peeled and sliced<br />3 tablespoons cider vinegar<br />3 tablespoons soy sauce<br />1 litre water (I know I say a pint, but I ended up adding more. cheeky)<br />4 pak choi, divided and washed<br />1 packet Shanghai noodles<br />Oyster sauce<br />Oil, salt and pepper<br /><br />Heat a little oil over a medium heat and brown the trotters on all sides. <br /><br />Add the five spice and toss to coat all the meat thoroughly, then add the garlic, ginger, vinegar, soy sauce and water. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer for an hour and a half. <br /><br />Remove the trotters to rest and bang up the heat, reducing the cooking liquor until sticky. Meanwhile stirfry the pak choi and noodles with a little oyster and soy sauce. Serve with the trotters, along with a generous tickle of the cooking sauce. <br /><br />Tomorrow I meet the Iranian John Torode. Stay tuned.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-61052222055682244842009-11-05T21:21:00.005+00:002009-11-05T23:26:30.312+00:00Ethnic Eating Experiment - Day 3If <a href="http://thelarderlout.blogspot.com/2009/11/ethnic-eating-experiment-day-2.html">yesterday's ordeal</a> was incoherent, vomit-inducing and, frankly, useless, today was a complete joy. This is really what the experiment is about - trying things that I'd usually balk at, and being pleasantly surprised by their tastiness. Huzzah for East African bread (and apologies for early mispronunciation)!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxMPF6HuNF288uilvX3AOwOeeDRB2aBDPpg5JuSeVCGdXxhChuc-HoXrjO2sGu_cx2LpIPKImAksgnMFI4x' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Chickpea and spinach curry for lazy bastards</span><br /><br />Serves 4<br /><br />1 red onion, peeled and chopped<br />2 teaspoons of curry powder<br />1 tin coconut milk<br />1 tin spinach (by the way - I now LOVE tinned spinach; it's delicious)<br />1 tin chickpeas, drained<br />1 tablespoon (or thereabouts) tomato puree<br />Salt, pepper, and olive oil<br />Injera bread<br /><br />Heat a little oil in a saucepan or wok and saute the onion until soft. Stir in the curry powder, then add coconut milk, spinach, chickpeas and tomato puree. Season with salt and pepper, bring to a boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Taste for seasoning and serve with injera bread. <br /><br />Thank you to my two helpful and slightly tipsy helpers.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-47175231953229517172009-11-04T11:13:00.002+00:002009-11-05T07:43:25.421+00:00Ethnic Eating Experiment - Day 2<a href="http://thelarderlout.blogspot.com/2009/11/investigation-into-londons-rich.html">Yesterday</a> I enjoyed a foray into Polish gastronomy, and discovered the joys of sorrel soup. But it was too easy. <br /><br />So I decided to try and make my own sausages using halal meat from the ethnic food stores on Brick Lane. Turns out there's a reason somebody invented a device for this purpose.<br /><br />(Parental warning - this video contains strong language and scenes of a sexual nature)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzGwp4n4Ei-grnxK5Q0UDcHqROkQ_30rcESvZrmQabtwdYyhHmGUkkrVwMF7FBK8HsIRj0-2Sgr3ZE_88CjFg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />(The audio occasionally goes slightly out of sync - apologies)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I'm not going to write up the recipe for the sausage mix as it does need tweaking - the fat content was too low, and the spice balance wasn't quite right. I'd like to work on this (and perhaps invest in the attachments for my kenwood) and try it again - watch this space!)<br /><br />If you fancy making your own sausages, for Pete's sake don't try my method. Read <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2009/nov/04/sausages-how-to-make">this article</a> and we'll forget this whole sordid affair ever happened.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-16920872873125042052009-11-03T11:25:00.004+00:002009-11-03T13:34:28.497+00:00Investigation into London's rich cultural diversity, Day 1<span style="font-weight:bold;">POLSKI SKLEP<br /></span> - Polish provisions on your doorsklep (sorry).<br /><br />Yesterday I began a week of looking at what London has to offer beyond standard supermarket fare. The results are below. Be not alarmed by the video's duration, as always there is some music at the end - this time courtesy of the wonderful Beirut.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dznZlPSAUYZPpqLKRI9c1E9cpNNIQGiSBtOhJxAYv2S2ritEDstQBMltM_r5HH3WyzNW21blGwc8oTSau7eZA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Polish shops for you - Click <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?client=safari&rls=en&oe=UTF-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=polish+shops+london&fb=1&hq=polish+shops&hnear=london&view=text&ei=oyfwSun3POGrjAeg85XHCA&sa=X&oi=local_group&ct=more-results&resnum=1&ved=0CBsQtQMwAA">here</a> to see where they are.<br /><br />Oh - the recipe:<br /><br />Serves 2 - probably costs 75p a head<br /><br />1 jar of szczaw<br />A little chicken or vegetable stock<br />A little cream <br />An egg<br /><br />Empty the jar of sorrel into a saucepan and add some stock. Simmer. You won't need to season the already salty soup.<br /><br />Meanwhile boil an egg for 8 minutes. <br /><br />Add a little cream to the soup and stir for a minute. Peel the egg and cut it in half, before serving on top of the soup in warm bowls. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">OTHER IDEAS FOR SZCZAW<br /></span><br /><br />- The sharpness of sorrel makes it ideal for fish; try draining the szczaw and serving it warm with a smoked mackerel fishcake.<br />- A szczaw sauce/white fish combo is similarly a match made in the upper reaches of Elysium<br />- Try the patties on <a href="http://milk-and-pumpkin.blogspot.com/2009/04/russian-sorrel-patties.html">this</a> Polish blog<br /><br />Hit me with further sorrel-based ideas if you have any.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-33489471797967004802009-10-29T10:51:00.005+00:002009-10-29T21:58:41.130+00:00Pancakes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLg0CsnslfxYL4pFmTxumQ3iTZKPfCe_b3PkDdSzf_Dt358G1Xj3MxzhDoKsE9zROfpDXL80Bd_Bv-5XTyV1Ly6-4RhkiMmi2JbdDSCoeHq7NIKTAHZmfUTRiYPnj-BHWrzOF1EeFrvO2/s1600-h/IMG_1491.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLg0CsnslfxYL4pFmTxumQ3iTZKPfCe_b3PkDdSzf_Dt358G1Xj3MxzhDoKsE9zROfpDXL80Bd_Bv-5XTyV1Ly6-4RhkiMmi2JbdDSCoeHq7NIKTAHZmfUTRiYPnj-BHWrzOF1EeFrvO2/s320/IMG_1491.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397980254601874642" /></a><br />Turns out I'm half American. I already knew that but it's something I used to pretend I didn't. There was a time when being half American was something you kept quiet - like having a third nipple, or a verruca, or your family locked in the basement. But then a year ago Obama was made president, and all of a sudden I was proud of my roots. OK, I didn't go all-out, Randy-style <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Dr1sgcC6k4">nuts</a>, but I was proud of my half-people - proud that they had proved the stereotype wrong, and so I put on some weight and got real stupid for a while to celebrate. 'Cause I'm one of them now.<br /><br />A year later and my cousin Gep is staying at my parents', and I have an urge for pancakes - thick, sweet, doughy pancakes, drowned in maple syrup. They take approximately 4 minutes to make and even less time to eat. I would have put some chopped blueberries in the batter, but, alas, we had none. <br /><br />Serves 4 fat Americans<br /><br />300g self-raising flour<br />4 tablespoons caster sugar<br />2 eggs, beaten<br />300ml milk<br />Butter<br />Maple syrup <br />Bacon<br /><br />Preheat the oven to 60C.<br /><br />Mix the flour and sugar in a large bowl (sieve the flour first if you can be arsed - at 8 in the morning I can't, frankly).<br /><br />Stir the eggs into the milk, then make a well in the centre of your flour and pour in the wet mix. Stir until fully combined, but don't overwork the batter. <br /><br />Melt a little butter over a medium heat in a non-stick frying pan, and add a couple of tablespoons of the mix. Fry for a couple of minutes, turn and fry for another minute or two. Keep warm in the oven while you make the rest of the batch, before serving with maple syrup and bacon. God bless America.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">4 days to go until challenge week</span>The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-32908293481930863152009-10-27T14:56:00.006+00:002009-10-27T16:40:57.256+00:00And the winner is...I must start by thanking all of you for your humorous, constructive, and carefully considered suggestions for my next challenge. I initially suggested that I would put a final shortlist to the vote. Perhaps this would be more fair, more democratic, more brave even. But ultimately I want a project that will enrich my understanding of food and of cooking. Gruesome as it was, the raw vegan diet forced me to think outside my comfort zone regarding the essential matter of cooking and eating - and that can only be a good thing.<br /><br />So <a href="www.matchingfoodandwine.com">Fiona Beckett's</a> suggestion that I live on Floyd for a week, while tempting, would be far too easy, and rather too close to my own gastronomic proclivities. <a href="http://twitter.com/thespeckledegg">Georgia's</a> idea of only cooking food that appears in song lyrics was particularly alluring - I loved the idea of having a playlist that was linked directly to what I was eating that week. But it still wasn't trying enough. <br /><br />I <span style="font-style:italic;">loved</span> Ms. Alex's suggestion of throwing a dice to determine each meal - 3 nice options, 3 nasty. This might be one for the future. But for the time being it is the mysterious 'Nibbles' who has won my vote. This was their suggestion:<br /><br />"Work your way round your local international delis/corner shops to find unusual ingredients. On many local high streets now you can find Turkish, Polish, Italian, Chinese, Asian, Halal... There is so much choice in Britain's ever more multicultural society. But most Brits don't know what ingredients to buy or what they can cook with them. It would be cool if you showed us how we can make use of this choice and add a dash of culinary mix to complement our cultural mix." .<br /><br />How often do we shy away from strange ingredients? The same ones, again and again. How often do we feel intimidated because something is unfamiliar? I talk a lot about trying to get my friends out of their 'comfort zones', but, truth be told, I rarely saunter out of mine. Of course I try new ingredients - ox cheek, ackee, pig's ear, fish sperm (seriously) - but I tend to cook them in ways I am comfortable with, alongside familiar ingredients.<br /><br />Every day for all of next week I will cook something that I have never cooked or eaten before. Perhaps we will all learn something. In the meantime, I want you to tell me which ingredients <span style="font-style:italic;">you're</span> scared of, or, if you are feeling vindictive, dare me to go for something truly alarming. Roasted baboon, anyone?The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-30004365855486519762009-10-26T22:09:00.000+00:002009-10-26T22:10:08.134+00:00Ta...Thank you for all of your suggestions for my next challenge - some interesting ones, some terrifying ones. Results tomorrow.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-37083411674631408972009-10-21T15:45:00.004+01:002009-10-23T00:23:21.623+01:00A NEW CHALLENGE - YOUR SUGGESTIONS PLEASE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFyKHmAHbHRjqD85nSGn0ZcVVVqv-pSMtYsQUVk0LKUfi492t4KwYO07-fYXjFa5dwbVloMJ4mgn8AtwJaM5-_xOBqkauazUvKvxtQoKMIavpzpjDyB3liLnG1HxV0aIkByEdNQx_txpO/s1600-h/DSCN0738.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFyKHmAHbHRjqD85nSGn0ZcVVVqv-pSMtYsQUVk0LKUfi492t4KwYO07-fYXjFa5dwbVloMJ4mgn8AtwJaM5-_xOBqkauazUvKvxtQoKMIavpzpjDyB3liLnG1HxV0aIkByEdNQx_txpO/s320/DSCN0738.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395069399469885938" /></a><br />The vegan diet seems aeons ago, and I feel it is time I challenged myself once again. This time, however, I want the challenge to involve cooking. And eating. Lots of cooking and lots of eating. The question is, how masochistic am I? Or, more importantly, how sadistic are you? I don't want some cop out that I've chosen - I want YOU to decide for me.<br /><br />Here are some ideas to get the cruel juices flowing:<br /><br />- how much weight can I put on in a week? Not <a href="http://www.cnlr.co.uk/images/2/fat_guy_moped1.jpg">advised</a>.<br />- only eating things that start with the letter 'm'<br />- only cooking James Martin recipes for a week <br />- cornershop week<br />- fast food week<br />- <a href="http://www.jaunted.com/files/3873/panda.jpg">endangered species</a> week<br /><br /><br />Give me your best shot. I wait with baited breath.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-37400252104016769502009-10-15T09:39:00.005+01:002009-10-15T16:15:53.488+01:00All you need is love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyXgnxl30X0jFMIBAQ7OaD2gLs75qkVLUWT7ftZ85E-Wcy3UQFIkxEIUtk8rUYLbVchgVuDwIPbXgSTWOBmSjGZOJje-8EVD7qfit3_UN8R92N4ViiCW8hHdPLWLQVjlV_trHeXLcIFIJ/s1600-h/IMG_1340.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyXgnxl30X0jFMIBAQ7OaD2gLs75qkVLUWT7ftZ85E-Wcy3UQFIkxEIUtk8rUYLbVchgVuDwIPbXgSTWOBmSjGZOJje-8EVD7qfit3_UN8R92N4ViiCW8hHdPLWLQVjlV_trHeXLcIFIJ/s320/IMG_1340.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392764907583745298" /></a><br />Of all the cliches, adages and tautologies on Masterchef, the word that turns my stomach again and again is 'passion'. Everything is about 'passion', it seems - passion for cooking, passion for food, passion for ingredients, passion for experimentation etc etc. It's terribly perfunctory. It has become a punctuation mark, a sentence filler for when the judges can't think of anything more insightful to say about a contestant. As Tony Naylor writes on the <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2008/feb/28/masterchef">Guardian Word of Mouth blog</a>, Masterchef has stripped the word of any meaning through 'flagrant overuse'.It is also, more often than not, a euphemism. The cooking equivalent to the schoolmaster's "Ramsden tries hard" (i.e. Ramsden is thick as mud soup but I've got to wrestle some positive out of this car crash of a term).<br /><br />For me it is not only overused, misused and abused, but it is a notion that is revered far beyond the measure it should be. This passion for food - what does it really mean? Passion is an ephemeral emotion, an intense, uncontrollable reflex. Passion doesn't sustain. It is the lusty throe of ecstasy, the impulsive stab of desire. Passion glints fleetingly in the glossy covers of food porn, or explodes magnificently in the climax of a meal. Passion does not last, and food cooked with passion and passion alone will most likely be inconsistent. There will be flashes of brilliance, sure, but in those moments when the spark is gone, what is left to support the cook? <br /><br />For without love, there is nothing. Love and everything that comes with it - care, attention, nurture, devotion, and - yes - passion. Take Monday night. I had been working all day (a rarity), and returned late and hungry. Sunday's chicken had been made into stock, while any leftover meat had been stripped from the carcass and awaited my greedy advances. Against my better judgement (and due to a fairly empty fridge) I landed on making a risotto. I have never been convinced that chicken risotto works. I just don't feel that chicken's texture works well amidst the starchy grains, despite it being a leftovers staple. I'd rather prod it into a sandwich with a generous spoonful of mayonnaise, or, even better, toss it through crisp salad leaves with croutons and a piquant dressing. <br /><br />But fate seemed to have decreed otherwise - the rice winked at me from the front of the cupboard, the stock was there, waiting, on the hob, the chicken already diced. There was even a bag of peas in the freezer to add bite and freshness. But because I was not convinced by the risotto's validity, I cooked it half-heartedly, one eye on the pot, one eye on the television. The result was a perfectly edible risotto, but one that did not come even close to inspiring any kind of passion in me whatsoever. The cooking had lacked care, and it tasted like it. <br /><br />Two night's later I return in similar circumstances. This time there are two of us, and this time I have thought carefully about what I want to eat. I cook with all due care, attention, and love. The soup, while simplicity defined, is soothing and delicious. It is also quick and cheap. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Chilli beef noodle soup</span><br /><br />Serves 2<br /><br />4 spring onions, finely sliced<br />1 clove garlic, peeled and finely sliced<br />1 thumb of ginger, peeled and chopped into matchsticks<br />2 birds eye chillies, sliced <br />A handful of coriander, roughly chopped<br />300ml chicken stock<br />1 tablespoon fish sauce<br />Half a Chinese cabbage, sliced<br />100g oyster mushrooms, roughly chopped<br />1 rump steak<br />A handful of rice noodles<br />1 red chilli, halved, deseeded and sliced<br />Salt and pepper<br />Olive oil<br /><br />Heat a tablespoon of oil in a saucepan and add the spring onions, garlic, ginger and chillies. Stir constantly for 30 seconds, then add the coriander (reserving a little for the end), chicken stock and fish sauce. Bring to the boil, then add the mushrooms and cabbage. Turn the heat right down and simmer while you prepare the rest of the soup.<br /><br />Boil the kettle and pour the water over the rice noodles in a bowl. Leave to soak for five minutes.<br /><br />Meanwhile, season the steak with salt and pepper and rub with olive oil. Get a frying pan very hot (so that holding your hand 6 inches above it is unbearable for more than a second or two) and fry the steak for two minutes on each side. Remove to a plate to rest. <br /><br />Drain the noodles and divide between serving bowls. Spoon over the soup making sure you get plenty of cabbage and mushrooms. Slice the steak thickly and arrange over the bowls. Garnish with slices of red chilli and a handful of coriander.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-16873826115779171642009-10-08T12:53:00.009+01:002009-10-13T17:48:55.705+01:00Is style ever more important than substance?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCAT4zoujM-68jkUa0ioq-nLgax2ICXTJEhBKKX2t6LIciWx4kK1kkRKO6gpzEqoGbr71qm7AssglIR2Zhu0NTT8A4ouKe7ZU0nGQcQuZM6Uz8nPUedwejzy3o_cVIujBzXhrtzLF6BXN/s1600-h/516ynMrZcFL.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwCAT4zoujM-68jkUa0ioq-nLgax2ICXTJEhBKKX2t6LIciWx4kK1kkRKO6gpzEqoGbr71qm7AssglIR2Zhu0NTT8A4ouKe7ZU0nGQcQuZM6Uz8nPUedwejzy3o_cVIujBzXhrtzLF6BXN/s320/516ynMrZcFL.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392063300479537522" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">It is Sunday morning. Early autumn and bright. You are sitting in a little cafe in Soho, a stack of papers beside you. You wallow in the false agony of which section to begin with, knowing full well that you are going to read the whole lot before you heave yourself away (and also knowing full well that you are going to read all the extraneous matter first, before finally making it to the actual news). Your eggs benedict arrives, and as if some higher being wished to emphasise the majesty of its creation, the sunlight falls onto the table at the very moment the plate is nudged in front of you. It's quite a thing to behold - a delicate poached egg, its mattress a golden toasted muffin, the bedsheets the crispest bacon you have ever seen. And hugging this aesthetic wonder is the most glistening, unctuous hollandaise sauce man has ever conceived. Trembling with lusty hunger, you cut into the egg, your entire mouth awash with saliva at the very anticipation of that joyous moment when the yolk, emancipated from its albumen chamber, trickles out to dress the bacon.<br /><br />Except it doesn't. The yolk inside is overcooked and dry. Further investigation reveals bacon that is not so much crisp as burnt. The muffin, that bread so redolent of comfort and warmth, is cold and hard. To cap it all, the hollandaise is so lemony that with a little sugar you could stick a biscotti in it and call it a posset. How had a breakfast that promised so much, that looked so perfect and absolute, turned into a repeat of Christmas 1990 (when that box that you thought was a Superman costume sent from your aunt in the States was actually a box of cosmetics intended for your cousin in Nebraska)? How dare a chef promise so much to the eye and deliver so little to the palate?</span><br /><br />Everybody judges a book by its cover. We look at people and decide subconsciously whether we like them or not, whether we fancy them or not. It's a reflex. This isn't to say it's always accurate. In fact, I love being proved wrong - when my initial opinion of a person, book, film, turns out to be miles off-radar. It's nice to be surprised. Food is no different. To drift into the realms of cliche, we eat with our eyes before eating with our mouths, and if our eyes are unmoved, our palate is less likely to be. But is it that simple? Certain 'ugly' dishes are cantilevered into the lofty realms of bewitching perfection through their very ruggedness. The pork pie, the cassoulet, bread and butter pudding - they are the Alan Rickmans of the food world, the dishes so full of surprises that every time you pile into them it's just like the first time.<br /><br />Then we have the Victoria Beckhams. The plate itself is a study in aesthetic precision; the sauce so artfully skidded in with the back of a spoon (recreating the oft sought-after 'trod-in dog turd' effect), the roasted sea urchin whimsically dressed to look like an otter's ballsack, and pretty but utterly redundant microleaves scattered with an air of fancy (when we know full well that the little blighters were placed on with tweezers). Visually it is mighty impressive. But beneath the polished exterior is a dish that is completely lacking in personality, in good taste, and in intrigue. What's more, your brief foray into this one-dimensional plate has already destroyed its only raison d'etre. No wonder certain 'celebrities' have plastic surgery. If your only significant characteristic is your looks, what on earth are you going to do when you look like a weathered old muffin?<br /><br />So is it possible that certain things can get away with vacuity when stunning to behold? My opinions on art certainly allow for this. I don't care if a painting represents the most intense of political struggles amongst the indigenous population of Siberia during the early 15th century - if it looks like a child has vomited on the canvas then it's not for me. Equally if I find a painting visually attractive, but discover that it represents the anguish of an early autumn mushroom, then fine. Paintings are for looking at.<br /><br />Food, on the other hand, is not. Food is for eating. Yet, on Tuesday night I was forced to reconsider my standpoint on the subject. I was catering for a drinks party and, amongst other things, served blinis with smoked salmon, sour cream and wasabi caviar. Wasabi caviar, as caviar goes, is not expensive. They're hardly going to adulterate the expensive stuff with horseradish. A 100g jar was £8.45. The same sized jar of Beluga caviar £950 (yeah, I know). It looked stunning perched atop the blini, a bright, luminescent green on the crisp whiteness of the sour cream. The merest tip of a teaspoon was all that was needed for its visual effect to work, and after fashioning a tester I duly popped it in my mouth. Not a hint of wasabi. Odd. I tested another, this time with considerably more of the roes. Still nothing - not even the salty marine tang that are part of why you eat the stuff. I checked the label. Was this just plain old caviar that had the misfortune of being harvested in the waters of Chernobyl? Seemingly not. <br /><br />I pushed the blinis, smoked salmon and sour cream to the side, and went at it with the teaspoon. This time I could just about taste the wasabi, but it was ever so faint, and certainly didn't have the nose-clearing bite of horseradish - a bite that goes so well with smoked fish. Now I was in a quandary. The stuff tasted of nothing, and the (flying fish) eggs were so small that you hardly got that delightful pop when you bit down on them. But it <span style="font-style:italic;">looked</span> fantastic. Following the rule of 'only add it if it contributes to the flavour or texture' I should have dropped it altogether. But I didn't, I kept it in. And the guests were wide-eyed and exhilarated. And I didn't feel like a charlatan.<br /><br />Should I have? I would suggest that when it comes to canapes, the visual effect is particularly important. It's not like sitting down to a main dish, when you have to eat mouthful after mouthful of the same thing. I have a hazy memory of a chef (whose name escapes me right now) once saying that anyone can make the first mouthful taste good - a great cook will make the last one taste good too. But with canapes your first mouthful is also your last mouthful, and as such the two senses of sight and taste are on a par. This isn't to say that an abhorrent tasting canape is kosher if it looks good, but in this context I believe a whimsical, if cosmetic, flourish is entirely acceptable, if its effect is at once mouth-watering, eye-catching, and amusing. <br /><br />It seems I'm starting to rewrite my own rulebook. Next week, is pineapple and ham pizza always wrong?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Smoked salmon, sour cream and wasabi caviar blinis<br /></span><br /><br />It's very easy to make your own blinis or pikelets - they're essentially pancakes but instead of using a ladle use a teaspoon. I, however, do not have a recipe to hand, so will give you the version I did. <br /><br />Makes 36<br /><br />36 miniature blinis (easily found in shops)<br />150g smoked salmon<br />50g sour cream<br />Wasabi caviar (otherwise use the black lumpfish which is cheap but adequate)<br />Lemon juice<br />Pepper<br /><br />Cook the blinis in the oven, remove and leave to cool.<br /><br />When ready to serve (not too long before as they tend to go soggy) pop a little strip of salmon on each blini, curling it both to fit on top and to give it some height. On top of that add the merest quarter tea spoon of sour cream, followed by an even more restrained dab of caviar. Squeeze over a drop of lemon juice, a twist of pepper, and serve.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-70471752272088149822009-10-06T09:54:00.005+01:002009-10-06T11:39:15.894+01:00Like falling in love againThere's nothing like a bit of abstinence. When Jesus spent forty days (and forty nights, mind) in the wilderness, I bet the first thing he did on completion was pile into the biggest goat stew since his Dad knows when. With extra goat. And loads of water. Which he promptly turned into wine. In fact, I imagine he was so deeply enamoured by the feast that lay before him, and so terribly geoffed* from all the water-wine he'd been guzzling, that he swayed bleary-eyed, elbows on the table and cutlery swinging like pendula, and slurred:<br /><br />"This meat shall inherit the earth".<br /><br />The rest was lost in translation. <br /><br />And I know how he felt. The simple joys of cookery have never seemed so profound to me as they have over the past week. My lunch in the Hawksmoor aside (which was transcendental in a more cathartic, singular way), every morsel that has passed my quivering lips has been adored and appreciated in a way that it wasn't before. A month ago a toasted muffin for breakfast would have been eaten as passively as any breakfast is usually eaten; a baked potato for supper par for the course. Now these things are special, magical, decadent. And hot.<br /><br />So I guess the raw vegan diet had a purpose. It made me realise just how much better food tastes when it is cooked - more flavour, more vitatlity, more <span style="font-style:italic;">love</span>. Say what you will about the health benefits (I'm just not willing to get into a debate on this - not now anyway), but raw food just don't taste as good. For that reason I'm glad I did the diet - it has made me appreciate <span style="font-style:italic;">real</span> food all the more. <br /><br />*Geoffed, abbr. exceedingly drunk. Geoff Hooned.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Grilled lamb rump with smashed chickpeas</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqngPR7wtY5w2tg0V_qlh_pTksn8PmmZdGKHIrd6ScHaZhLdjm2uYydObd2NEvLrhoSIhRczgNMH-taMGmM22aqWrz904YUI5BJ6mso-0H1uq4nl2L8hEPHwtw_RIHemxWZobtkoQWygoF/s1600-h/IMG_1321.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqngPR7wtY5w2tg0V_qlh_pTksn8PmmZdGKHIrd6ScHaZhLdjm2uYydObd2NEvLrhoSIhRczgNMH-taMGmM22aqWrz904YUI5BJ6mso-0H1uq4nl2L8hEPHwtw_RIHemxWZobtkoQWygoF/s320/IMG_1321.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389433785116015058" /></a><br />This is a great quick supper. The marinating time aside (and if you can only do it for 15 minutes, so be it), this can be from cooker to plate in under ten minutes. <br /><br />Serves 2<br /><br />2 lamb rump steaks<br />A small clove of garlic, crushed<br />A handful of parsley, finely chopped<br />A few rosemary leaves, finely chopped<br />A red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped<br />2 anchovy fillets, finely chopped<br />Juice of half a lemon<br />Olive oil<br />1 tin of chickpeas<br />Salt and pepper<br /><br />Toss the lamb in the crushed garlic, herbs, chilli, anchovy and lemon juice. Add a little olive oil, season with pepper and leave for up to 2 hours.<br /><br />Scrape the marinade off of the lamb (but don't for Pete's sake chuck it away). Stick a frying pan over a strong flame and, when it looks like it's thinking about smoking, add the lamb. Fry for 2 minutes on each side, then remove to a plate to rest.<br /><br />Drain the chickpeas and cover with water. Pop on a medium heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Drain into a colander. In the same saucepan, heat a little oil and gently fry the marinade for a minute, taking care not to burn the garlic. Return the chickpeas to the pan and smash with a spoon, fork or masher, stirring the marinade through thoroughly. You're not looking for a smooth paste here; rough is how we like it. <br /><br />Serve with thick slices of lamb and some (preferably cooked) green vegetables.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-28201602788790150292009-09-29T10:37:00.004+01:002009-09-29T11:08:47.235+01:00THE END OF THE RAW VEGAN DIETYes, it's finally over. I shall write about it in more detail when I have longer. In the meantime, here is the video of my post-diet lunch in the Hawksmoor. Life-affirming would be an understatement. <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyJXurtabTlQ4n2kM94Hgdfq9WmekKrAFxcpu7TpztUluXZmQutZbxnHc3aGakfrNWMMWGLFw9OPKDVI5Jj' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />PS Don't be alarmed by length of video - it's half that length with music at the end. That's just how I roll.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-86809324761164113512009-09-24T12:21:00.004+01:002009-09-25T11:21:25.100+01:00Saf, Curtain Road<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyl8ECC4bCOLBIshV_nMkEVXWLOlfpsPGcZK-2jT0vn0eBhV_YHP-gbuq_rP162YKBJ8tXg2Xg_u2-mHV_obOU4iZiGSR0RZjalyShkeEgzuWrWmGGNrvgorn8o2ZVQRp4FhtsVj-FvFO/s1600-h/pic-home1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 157px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFyl8ECC4bCOLBIshV_nMkEVXWLOlfpsPGcZK-2jT0vn0eBhV_YHP-gbuq_rP162YKBJ8tXg2Xg_u2-mHV_obOU4iZiGSR0RZjalyShkeEgzuWrWmGGNrvgorn8o2ZVQRp4FhtsVj-FvFO/s320/pic-home1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384992769453323522" /></a><br /><br />The one fillip to this bizarre experiment (and it is becoming, day by day, more bizarre) was the knowledge that Saf, the respected raw vegan restaurant in the east end, was just around the corner from my flat. The consolation that I was not the only person in this city who thought the concept of such a diet was anything but ludicrous offered me solace in those darker moments when I found myself seduced even by the lusty, crass allure of the kebab shop opposite. Let me tell you, that nondescript gobbet of flesh might as well be a rib of wagyu beef when, at midnight, you realise that you have eaten nothing hot, nor proteinaceous, nor truly delicious, for 10 days.<br /><br />Of course, I had received mixed reviews about Saf. Some said it was wonderful, some said it was dire. (I'm not sure why I just wrote that. Surely the term "mixed reviews" intimates that opinions differed on the subject, so quite why I had to emphasize this in such a tautological manner I don't know. It must be the lack of protein. (NB lack of protein may lead to short temper and attention span)). But somewhere that so gauchely serves nothing but raw vegan food is always going to cause some controversy, and so off I went for lunch, in the hope that this eternal nightmare of salad and fruit (I'm afraid the will to 'try new things' disappeared along with my will to live) could be tempered by a lunch that was more remarkable than what I had been eating for the previous week. I wasn't entirely disappointed. <br /><br />The restaurant itself sits on Curtain Road, just off Old Street. A long, clean room with a conservatory at the end, it is a pleasant space, but on this occasion it was also a very empty space. Perhaps Wednesday lunchtime is never the most rollocking of shifts in any restaurant, yet it struck me that Saf was plugging one small demographic. Of the estimated 180,000 vegans in the UK, let's reckon there are 15,000 in London (a generous assumption; surely most of them live in the woods). Then let's assume that of that 15,000, 1500 live in the catchment area of Saf (a more realistic figure - vegans tend to migrate to Hackney). Of that 1500, the number of them that are going to shaft £30 on lunch midweek is, well - there were about 5 of us in there. <br /><br />I started with the beetroot ravioli with cashew herb ricotta (pictured above). It arrived quickly, as well it should have done, being raw (though there was some suspicious sizzling coming from the kitchen). It did not arrive, however, with the asparagus, carrot and fennel salad, balsamic figs and pumpkin oil, as promised by the menu. Instead it was accompanied by a pile of celeriac remoulade. This went completely over my head, as I had forgotten what it said on the menu (did I mention short attention span?), and so I piled into it uncomplainingly, being a big fan of remoulade anyway. The first mouthful was like nothing I'd ever tasted before, and as such was rather alarming. My recollection of the menu being as it was, the lump of stodge gluing together the two slices of beetroot was a complete mystery, and like putting any mysterious matter in one's mouth, unpleasant. Yet it won me over. Whether this was down to the rich meatiness of the filling, or my fetish for beetroot in any way, shape, or form, I don't know, but the dish was a great success, and as fulfilling a thing as I had eaten for some time.<br /><br />Next I ordered a Pad Thai of courgette noodles with enoki mushrooms and mung shoots. Once again the menu had misled me, there being no mung shoots, replaced instead by manges tout (though this deception also escaped my notice until I looked at the menu later that day). It was pretty standard nosh for an experienced raw vegan like myself, consisting of those staple flavour-boosters of chilli, sesame, lime and coriander. It did, however, come with the added nudge of chipotle sauce, its rich smokiness adding a great deal of interest to an otherwise familiar plate. But something smelled fishy. Literally. And it was making me gag. It transpired that this rancid piscine whiff was coming from the seaweed that lined the bowl. It was like eating raw vegan food whilst someone wafted last month's sushi under my nose, and it ruined any enjoyment of an otherwise tidy and well-conceived dish.<br /><br />So, as pleonastically predicted, Saf is a bit of a mixed bag. There is no doubting the inventiveness of the food, nor the skill in the not-cooking. For a vegan it is a triumph that such an impressive restaurant exists. But strip away the context and focus on the food and the food alone, and there is little that sticks with me besides the stench of seaweed clinging to my nostrils and the memory of the waiter's insistence on calling me 'mate'.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-1542750029592369112009-09-23T10:06:00.007+01:002009-10-04T23:37:33.266+01:00The perils of raw veganism and alcohol<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOACguttus_w9HQNrAphuAScPWvxvSJCcPGPPEE_CeRY3dLqStgiKQTe1rvIA5z0KP3ZPFBbGCgPCnT1Eupt0BuCeaIClmCY1FmQI7Qu88sIrzJqr0fbUuYn5empQrj4WUf8_KWhNHWnh/s1600-h/IMG_0190.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOACguttus_w9HQNrAphuAScPWvxvSJCcPGPPEE_CeRY3dLqStgiKQTe1rvIA5z0KP3ZPFBbGCgPCnT1Eupt0BuCeaIClmCY1FmQI7Qu88sIrzJqr0fbUuYn5empQrj4WUf8_KWhNHWnh/s320/IMG_0190.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388877466817368242" /></a><br /><br />I have a confession to make. I have not stuck completely to my raw ve-guns. This is what happened. I went to a <a href="http://www.nicbarlow.com">friend's</a> for dinner last night, already hungry from a day's disastrous eating - a lunch of thai coconut soup went awry when I had the mexico idea of trying to blend raw carrot and ended up with something like a cold curdled curry. The soup actually had potential. Coconut milk, ginger, chilli, lime zest and juice, coriander, grated carrot and cucumber. It tasted <span style="font-style:italic;">good</span> - its texture was not. Later that afternoon, passing a grocer, I scooped up an apple - a bad apple, it turns out. I have always said that the definition of disappointment is biting into a furry apple. On this occasion that crunchless mouthful was less a case of disappointment and more one of abject despair. <br /><br />So I was famished. But my transgression didn't come in the shape of food. No, I was tricked, heartlessly, mercilessly, wonderfully, into drinking bourbon, the sweet brown liquor slipped surreptitiously into a simple but delicious cocktail with cranberry and lime (Nic's invention, so says he). Bourbon is cooked, I was later told, and so I had technically slipped up. <span style="font-style:italic;">Technically</span>. But I was not about to start feeling guilty - 9 days had passed and not a morsel had passed my lips that wasn't kosher. I was, however, about to start getting horrifically pissed. It transpires that drinking on an empty stomach is not a wise venture, and by the end of cocktail number one I was already feeling oiled. 5 hours later I was playing the piano in Last Days of Decadence on Shoreditch High Street. In my head I sounded like Rachmaninov. I probably sounded more like the submissions for the under 7s piano competition at Ripon Cathedral Choir School (there is some hazy recollection of chopsticks being wheeled out at one point). I certainly had a rip through my piano staple, Neil Young 'Till the Morning Comes'. Unfortunately when the morning did finally come, I found myself nursing the most almighty hangover since the fall of the Berlin Wall. If you did happen to be in Last Days last night, I apologise for ruining your evening.<br /><br />While veganism might have stilted my own musicality last night, it certainly worked all right for some. Here is my ultimate vegan playlist, with Spotify to boot:<br /><br />Meat Is Murder - The Smiths<br />Close to Me - The Cure<br />Get Gone - Fiona Apple<br />Porcelain - Moby<br />Monty Got A Raw Deal - R.E.M.<br />Lime in da Coconut - Harry Nilsson <br />My Sweet Lord - George Harrison<br />Suzanne - Leonard Cohen<br />Don't Get Me Wrong - The Pretenders<br />Nothing Compares 2 U - Sinead O'Connor<br /><br />Spotify playlist: Vegan Vibe: <a href="http://open.spotify.com/user/jteramsden/playlist/35LZEwuBebIEHaxUbnT5KA">http://open.spotify.com/user/jteramsden/playlist/35LZEwuBebIEHaxUbnT5KA</a>The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-1987679931559098922009-09-21T10:11:00.002+01:002009-09-21T10:23:06.164+01:00Raw vegan experiment - Week 1, done.<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwsilh1fOUQk4pPLSVJw_5MeYPtl8bmrftSK-KVVyo8a5PIKlE7bw1z5aORu_YPlAWPR1-7ZfLi98HHfo3QxQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />'Glosoli' - Sigur RosThe Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-60874599616897748442009-09-20T12:09:00.003+01:002009-09-20T18:56:33.938+01:00Raw vegan experiment - Day 6<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwHe0-DdoomsfshAmPa4wtT6c__qEGlQhVHiwaeYSs3W1arCNsNkJ-BJNZq1FwkNuIpXjH-Pxl5eX_gVVZ6eA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />'Music For A Nurse', by OceansizeThe Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-9845567705008610892009-09-19T10:11:00.005+01:002009-09-20T18:57:19.782+01:00Raw vegan experiment - Day 5<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzRFTCs8vsdU_mPAI3sGYETERs1LNdDoMCYq4l25u4-7ha-o6cdrxHwA8BKo1GvbMMwlrrGMAvCxZfDoeCPhA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />'The Golden Age' - Beck<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Beetroot salad with yogurt, lemon and cumin dressing</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVbl2if-uR6wSSz9SDeEzv4GZvKI85X1caGycdE3xHIIPwmNsd1prRGf2PUqV8pLwUuDXIY85-_Qf7e6Mb-5iwpYcc9UvaFDak55pZLNcpYNrCvS6qr_81MH6HlYeys9qnbCDJ95BHz2S/s1600-h/IMG_0988.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVbl2if-uR6wSSz9SDeEzv4GZvKI85X1caGycdE3xHIIPwmNsd1prRGf2PUqV8pLwUuDXIY85-_Qf7e6Mb-5iwpYcc9UvaFDak55pZLNcpYNrCvS6qr_81MH6HlYeys9qnbCDJ95BHz2S/s320/IMG_0988.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383113748128588658" /></a><br />Serves 2<br /><br />3 beetroots of varying varieties if you can find them<br />A pinch of ground cumin<br />1 tablespoon (soya) yoghurt<br />1 tablespoon lemon juice<br />2 tablespoons olive oil<br />A handful of parsley and chives, chopped<br />A shallot, peeled and sliced<br />Salt and pepper<br /><br />Peel and slice the beetroot. Stir together the cumin, yoghurt, lemon juice and olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Arrange your beets on a plate and garnish with herbs and sliced shallots.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-16661608188972448822009-09-18T10:26:00.005+01:002009-09-20T18:57:51.227+01:00Raw vegan experiment - Day 4<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyMir1mwclcgPSTrPyU0V4bhPnnX5IKgI5ZTjQpliqpDtu7vZ0rc8_KO_qcTgZC6_7NaBc4HbHSfzizPeSk7A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now' - The Smiths<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cold cucumber soup<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldDipcUBrNtf290jIvmRzvIFKhUi62dHgJMfkQowC-8hoJ5_n9D5b0f7pvJTHI11n4wvZHhNqw42elK2CjtbeyF6ZSrlwlLmpBydUpacNO3wO78K6WS5A1TApAK0PEO_8-O9qktL8Yhjs/s1600-h/IMG_0983.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldDipcUBrNtf290jIvmRzvIFKhUi62dHgJMfkQowC-8hoJ5_n9D5b0f7pvJTHI11n4wvZHhNqw42elK2CjtbeyF6ZSrlwlLmpBydUpacNO3wO78K6WS5A1TApAK0PEO_8-O9qktL8Yhjs/s320/IMG_0983.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382739307633940386" /></a><br /><br />If you try and pretend that you are indeed eating soup, and not just a big bowl of tzatziki, then this is really rather delicious. Perfect for a starter in the summer. Next summer.</span><br /><br />Serves 1 <br /><br />A quarter of a cucumber<br />4 tablespoons soya yoghurt<br />1 small clove garlic, peeled and crushed<br />A handful of mint, coriander and chives, chopped<br />A good squeeze of lemon juice<br />Salt and pepper<br /><br />Grate the 'cumber into a bowl. Stir in the yogurt, garlic, herbs and lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper and chill for an hour or so. Remove from fridge, check for seasoning and adjust with salt or some fresh tears, and eat.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-44503066903434915602009-09-17T12:04:00.005+01:002009-09-17T12:21:53.745+01:00Raw vegan experiment - Day 3<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwjOFKKrkmWXjx_of16JRu5izuNdXDUTAUuFQA0nOeHoU33gu3QBqyTbvxOM3pE3oAym3AeGKO4scm6Lc9j0g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Couscous salad with cherry tomatoes and chilli</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQmJDHmLJPqZEheTlTaGqsg2ye9xDHogQUEMsNJEmv644cqF6RtrTjx3wJQjCxCb_RKF77KsPtk2mM3FSVZ-l5wSXY4c5UMTVdumbhoRglJc3hTN-bezHI6kiZ2NxA7IagBOsrrWPQ6he/s1600-h/IMG_0969.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQmJDHmLJPqZEheTlTaGqsg2ye9xDHogQUEMsNJEmv644cqF6RtrTjx3wJQjCxCb_RKF77KsPtk2mM3FSVZ-l5wSXY4c5UMTVdumbhoRglJc3hTN-bezHI6kiZ2NxA7IagBOsrrWPQ6he/s320/IMG_0969.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382392283956492482" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">I'd never done couscous using cold water, and I have to say that I was not convinced it would be a success when told about it by my mate Dave. I'm thrilled to say that not only was it great, I actually preferred the texture to couscous done with boiling water. So there.</span><br /><br />Serves 1<br /><br />A handful of couscous<br />150ml water (or thereabouts)<br />A few cherry tomatoes, halved<br />1 chunk of cucumber, roughly chopped<br />1 red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped<br />A good handful of mint and coriander, chopped<br />Juice of half a lemon<br />Olive oil<br />Salt and pepper<br /><br />Stick the couscous in a bowl and pour over the water. Leave for 15 minutes (the couscous, not the room - it's not that coy). <br /><br />Fluff with a fork then add your other ingredients, seasoning with salt and pepper and olive oil. Devour like a crazed animal.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Banana and blackberry smoothie</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrS-fbuYmIt0YrCMxYJmsgEMxBlpnaEVwaYt5re3qN5SAoYifg-xOoX9cGQRp0mUYb7m5LhIsgRDcC8js111wsmScn8IBopTx1fQ_UC3oB7um73y7gDJVrUjs3u7m4oVK3igGEUY5T9fC4/s1600-h/IMG_0976.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 244px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrS-fbuYmIt0YrCMxYJmsgEMxBlpnaEVwaYt5re3qN5SAoYifg-xOoX9cGQRp0mUYb7m5LhIsgRDcC8js111wsmScn8IBopTx1fQ_UC3oB7um73y7gDJVrUjs3u7m4oVK3igGEUY5T9fC4/s320/IMG_0976.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382393349672421922" /></a><br /><br />Makes about a litre<br /><br />3 bananas<br />A big ol' handful of blackberries<br />150g oats and seeds<br />1 tablespoon honey<br />3 tablespoons soy yoghurt<br />200ml orange juice<br />Dried berries - raisins, cranberries, woteva<br /><br />Stick everything but the dried berries in a blender and, you know, blend. You could sieve it if you are worried about having bits in your teeth for a week (I personally consider the detritus between my molars a cheeky mid-morning snack).<br /><br /> Chill for an hour and pour into a glass with a handful of dried berries on top.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3621910414728470612.post-87973378145137581492009-09-16T10:57:00.003+01:002009-09-16T11:08:51.495+01:00Raw vegan experiment - Day 2<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwWlBfZhvSmq2moDvCsBdYWyWLIfX8JErIpR_R1t66eA77CVA7dc8P84AoO5awgyVppcxYiqlW9noGONU6UJw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Gazpacho</span><br /><br />Makes 2 large portions, serves 4-6 as a starter<br /><br />2 large tomatoes<br />300g passata<br />1 red pepper, deseeded and roughly chopped<br />1/4 cucumber, roughly chopped<br />1/4 red onion, roughly chopped<br />1 small clove garlic, roughly chopped<br />1 red chilli, deseeded and, you guessed it, roughly chopped<br />A handful of herbs - parsley and basil, a little rosemary<br />Salt, pepper, sugar<br />Olive oil<br />White wine vinegar, about a tablespoon<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25kp-oHTG6_qcb4mr2qdsZDuBI5zzrw_BrS331FbnvvqYKerfST-9K5M7wIh4SU7xAJ4kwrTpybKtVvxxiU8sgeK0GdnClH_R43KrJCOJxAE1psy8xvCm5tFLQk3pYUQNjGl-zAmMewYE/s1600-h/IMG_0965.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25kp-oHTG6_qcb4mr2qdsZDuBI5zzrw_BrS331FbnvvqYKerfST-9K5M7wIh4SU7xAJ4kwrTpybKtVvxxiU8sgeK0GdnClH_R43KrJCOJxAE1psy8xvCm5tFLQk3pYUQNjGl-zAmMewYE/s200/IMG_0965.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382003646017913634" /></a><br /><br />Peel the tomatoes by putting a cross in the top with a sharp knife, then leave them in boiling water for a minute. The skin should then come straight off. Quarter them and remove the seeds.<br /><br />Put the tomato flesh, passata, cucumber, onion, garlic, chilli and herbs in a blender. Season with salt, pepper and sugar and add a dash of olive oil and white wine vinegar. Blend.<br /><br />Chill for an hour in the fridge and serve with a blob of pesto.The Larder Louthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13266713324000934624noreply@blogger.com0