Category Archives: Spicy food

Paprika and Chickpea Soup (with Built-In Poached Quails Eggs)


Fact: I have made this soup before.

Fact: it is delicious.

Fact: this time I added quails eggs and it was amazing.

Paprika Soup 004

The beauty of this soup, as I was at great pains to point out in my last post about it, is its versatility. You can add whatever ingredients you happen to have knocking about the cupboards, or starting to go wrong in the fridge. This time, I added a chili that was getting wrinkly round the edges, swapped a normal onion for the recommended red onion and added some lemon juice from the lonely half lemon in the picture above. The resulting soup was very spicy, so I added a splash of creamy whole milk before I served it. This time, i really have shaken the habit of eating half a loaf with every bowl of soup, and had some tiny little oatcakes with it instead. It was aces.

Now, the reason that I’m reblogging about this recipe – which isn’t even one of my own – is that I had a culinary brainwave while I was making it. Last time I said that a poached egg on top sounded like a great addition. That was over a year ago, and I’d never revisited this recipe in order to try that out. This time I gave it a go – but I didn’t just add any old poached egg.

Oh no.

I added poached quails eggs. And I poached them RIGHT IN THE SOUP. I still feel like a braniac for having this idea.

A few minutes before I was ready to serve the soup, I cracked my eggs onto the surface. This is one of those soups that is almost thick enough to stand your spoon up in, so the egg initially rests almost on the surface.

After a minute, the egg had started to sink. ‘Hm,’ I thought. ‘We may have a situation here.’ I carefully lowered a spoon in under the egg – I could still see the top of the yolk – and lifted it upwards again. It seemed to be doing OK, the white hadn’t completely dispersed through the whole pot, so I let it go for another three minutes, watching and occasionally encouraging it back up to the surface.

The end result was something between a fried egg and a poached egg, flavoured by the soup and ready to carefully scoop out and garnish my dinner with.

I gently pushed the two poached eggs off to the side of the pot, and ladled out enough soup from the other side to fill a bowl. I added a splash of milk and swirled it through, then scooped the eggs from the pot and delicately laid them on top. The final touch was a scattering of spring onions, a late addition but one I was really glad of.

Paprika Soup 012

You now have two choices, if you’ve poached some eggs in your soup. You can burst the yolk and let it mingle with the rest of the soup:

Paprika Soup 017

Or you can scoop the egg up on your oatcake or other dipping implement and enjoy it in one mouthful:

Paprika Soup 023

I got to do both, since I had two eggs. It’s a win/win situation.


Tonkatsu with Noodles


Initial disclaimer: this isn’t really tonkatsu, because it’s not deep fried. It’s somewhere between tonkatsu, pork escalope and schnitzel. Or, if you want to speak plainly, it’s a breaded pork chop. I’ve made something similar before, which turned out a lot of brown photographs and was pretty forgettable – that time, it was called Pork Milanese. So many names for something so simple. This time, I changed it up a little to give it a more Japanese edge, and served over veg-strewn noodles, with a variety of toppings. So many toppings, in fact, that you can’t really see all of them, or the noodles underneath. Well, there’s no point in skimping on these things, is there?

 

This is going to be one of those posts that’s more a method than a recipe. The amounts are a bit up and down – there was quite a large element of ‘what’s in the fridge?’ in the construction of this meal, which makes it difficult to replicate.

 

The first thing to do is get a couple of boneless pork chops (you can buy normal chops and remove the bone yourself, too) or pork steaks of any kind; collar, leg, shoulder, loin – whatever’s available to you. Then, HAMMER THEM. Hammer them into submission, until they’re about a quarter of an inch thick all the way across. I like to sandwich the meat between two layers of clingfilm to do this, so that neither cutting board nor hammering implement has to be scrubbed clean of all trace of raw meat. I use my rolling pin as the implement, you can choose your own. Probably a real hammer isn’t best, and a meat tenderiser will spike the meat (and clingfilm) as well as flattening, so it’s not ideal. You can get a meat mallet thing if you want to be proper.

 

Katsu Pork Noodles 009

 

The meat will look a wee bit dazed and, depending on the cut, may be barely hanging together in some places. Not a big deal, you’ll just have to be a little careful when you’re moving it around.

 

The next step is to coat the pork in a mix of beaten egg and miso paste. The miso was a flash of inspiration, and worked out really well – no need to season the meat, as miso is so salty, and it added a more authentic edge to proceedings. I used one teaspoon of miso paste to one large egg, mixed well, then dipped both chops in the egg mixture, turning to coat. Next, the pork went into a dish of fresh wholemeal breadcrumbs. You could use prepared breadcrumbs or panko, whatever you have to hand.

 

 

Katsu Pork Noodles 011

 

At this stage, the pork can wait around for a little while, while you prepare any veg you want in your noodles. I had broccoli florets, mushrooms and spring onion in mine. When you are ready to start cooking the pork, heat a tablespoon of oil and a knob of butter in a frying pan big enough to hold however many chops you’re cooking (or two frying pans if you have loads). Keep the heat at medium so that you don’t scorch the breadcrumbs, and fry the meat for three or four minutes on each side.

 

Stir fry any veg and boil any noodles that you’re having while the pork cooks, and prepare any toppings you’re having. I had a thin omelette (made with the excess miso-egg mixture), which I tore into strips, some torn seaweed and a couple of hard-boiled quails eggs. Just before serving, toss together your cooked veg and noodles and season – I flavoured my stir fry with garlic, ginger and chili, then added sesame oil and soy sauce to the end result.

 

Remove the pork from the frying pan and rest while you decant the noodley goodness into deep bowls. Slice the pork into strips and lay on top of the noodles, along with whatever other garnish you’re having.

 

Devour.

 

Katsu Pork Noodles 026

 

Katsu Pork Noodles 022

The pork is crunchy on the outside but still very soft and juicy in the middle – because you’ve hammered it out so thinly, it doesn’t take long to cook all the way through, even without the heat being cranked up to the max. This is a simple meal to prepare, perfect for a weeknight, and you can vary it depending on what ingredients you prefer, or have to hand. The cupboards and fridge were well and truly raided for this one – and it was a triumph!

Katsu Pork Noodles 029

 

PS – when you eat quails eggs you can pretend either to be a giant OR to be at a royal wedding. It’s up to you.


Kedgeree with Duck Egg


Felicity Cloake at The Guardian does this nice thing, now and again, where she takes a classic recipe, does a lot of research into the different ways of making it, then presents us with the ultimate combination of these recipes, creating the ‘perfect’ version of the dish du jour. I like it, it’s good to see the different ways that you can make something – low fat, whole wheat, traditional, ‘with a twist’ (has that phrase gone now? I feel like it might be a bit nineties…) – and it’s interesting to read through the variations and Felicity’s reactions to them, before the final recipe is presented. It’s nice to see someone else’s train of thought, reassuring to know that it’s not just me who can be an over-thinker when it comes to snacks.

I recently followed Felicity’s recipe for the perfect kedgeree… except that I didn’t really. I used it as a jumping off point, more than following it. Even though she’d clearly done a lot of hard working in forming that recipe. I didn’t have all the ingredients I needed, and other excuses of that nature. I’m just a natural rebel, OK? A born lever-puller.

The first person to name the film that quote comes from wins something nice. Like my eternal regard.

 

x 403

 

So, the kedgeree.

This is one of those ‘I might have slightly made it up as I went along’ blog posts.

These are amounts to serve two:

  • 200g basmati rice
  • 1 tbsp rapeseed oil
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 1/2 – 1 tsp chili flakes
  • 2 crushed cardamom pods
  • 1 tbsp curry powder
  • 200g cooked, smoked mackerel
  • handful frozen peas
  • 2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and sliced or quartered
  • Squeeze of lemon juice
  • Small bunch of parsley
  • Salt and pepper, to taste

 

I did follow Felicity’s advice about rinsing and then soaking the rice. I think it helped make the rice less starchy and sticky. Rice and I have a bit of a troubled relationship, but it worked out well this time, so perhaps giving it a nice relaxing bath before throwing it into boiling water is the way to go.

To sum that process  up: rinse the rice in running water until the water runs clear, then cover with fresh, cold water and rest for at least half an hour.

Once it’s been soaked, drain it and put it over a medium heat, with 290ml fresh water. Specific, no?

Bring the rice to the boil, stir, then cover tightly, whack the heat down as low as it goes and leave for 25 minutes. Don’t disturb it. This recipe is basically like a spa day for rice. I added a teatowel between my pot and the lid, to make a tighter seal and keep more steam in the pot. Don’t ask me to describe how I wedged it in there, because right now it is quite late and I’d just use words like ‘wedged’ and ‘squished’ and it wouldn’t be helpful.

After the sauna is over, remove the rice from the heat but leave the pot lid, and any kitchen linens you may have sandwiched between it and the pot, in place. The rice is resting, again. Give it five minutes, then open and run a fork through the rice to break it up.

Heat the oil over a medium high heat, in a large frying pan, then add the onion and cook until softened. Then, add the chili flakes, curry powder and cardamom. Stir round to coat the onion in the spices, and inhale deeply as they start to smell toasty. And then possibly choke as the smell of the chili hits the back of your throat unexpectedly. Sorry about that.

Add the rice to the pan, stir well to coat, and add the peas. Then, flake the fish in – this is why it has to be pre-cooked, because you’re just warming it up, now. Heat for a few minutes, until the peas are cooked and hot, then taste the rice. Season as necessary. Add a squeeze of lemon juice.

Put the kedgeree into bowls and scatter with the parsley, then lay a sliced egg on top. I think a whole egg per person is reasonable.

I used duck eggs. Do you know what I have to say about duck eggs?

They’re bigger.

Suffice to say I was a little underwhelmed by my first duck egg. The white seemed to be more translucent, and sweeter than a chicken’s egg – but not so much that you’d really notice. It was nice, I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t the revelation I’d been hoping for.

Perhaps I should stop looking for revelations in eggs.

 

x 395


Pulled Pork, Purple Slaw and Brioche Buns


I’m seeing a lot of pulled pork around the internet these days.

That is a sentence that needs rephrased.

There is no way to phrase it that doesn’t sound rude. I’m leaving it.

I’d made pulled pork once before, using this recipe from Leite’s Culinaria for Yucatan-style slow roasted pork. I even went out and bought annatto seeds, which I had used in no other recipe since but like having in the kitchen. They’re kind of my friends now. Until I decide to grind them up and put them in the oven. Sorry, guys. There is something satisfying about making something that goes in the oven for five hours, filling your house with the smell of roasting meat and heady spices all the while. When the end result is a cut of meat that you can pull into strips with a fork, that level of satisfactions goes up another notch. So, a few weekends ago, I set about making it again, to my own recipe, which I will present to you forthwith. I was spurred on by a post on Juanita’s Cocina, where she talked about pulled pickled pork. I don’t own a slow cooker, so the recipe was going to need some tweaking, but I had a good go nonetheless.

 

I started with a marinade – I had great plans for this marinade. There was bourbon, thyme, homemade chili powder, brown sugar and liquid smoke. I mashed it all up with a mortar and pestle. I even took a picture I really liked of it, look:

 

 

 

 

Pulled Pork Marinade

 

 

At the end of the day, though, it wasn’t a great success. There wasn’t really enough of it – when a marinade is mostly liquid, as this one was, there really has to be enough of it to let the meat wallow. The alternatives are to produce a dry rub, or a thick paste that can get slapped on the meat and will cling as it imparts all its lovely flavours. I knew all that, but I wanted to give it a shot, anyway. Perhaps if I’d marinated the meat overnight it would have had more impact – it’s difficult to say.

 

The other problem was that, after letting the meat come to room temperature for about an hour and a half, with the marinade applied, I proceeded to tip a load of pickle juice into the baking dish, which inevitably rinsed the meat clean and sort of defeated the purpose of adding a marinade in the first place. I was hopeful that some flavour had already been drawn into the meat by this time, but the end result didn’t suggest that that was the case… However, don’t get me wrong – the end result was great, and I really enjoyed it! It just didn’t have the bourbon/thyme/chili/brown sugar flavours I was hoping for. We live and learn, right?

 

So, yes – the meat marinated for a bit, then I tipped in about half a jar of pickle juice and sliced up four or five whole pickles before throwing them on and around the pork. I also sliced up and added a couple of garlic cloves, for good measure. Before going in the oven, the meat looked like this:

 

Pulled Pork Pre-oven

I covered the baking dish tightly with several sheets of foil, and roasted at a low temperature – 135C – for almost five hours. When the pork came out again, it was ready for shredding, a task that takes a bit longer than you’d think for a big hunk of meat, but is worth it. You simply grab two forks, stick one into the meat and pull the other through it, in the direction of the grain, and watch it shred before your very eyes.

Yes, this is a yellow photograph – AGAIN. I think I now have the hang of setting my white balance, though, so these accidentally sepia photographs should be a thing of the past. Like real sepia photographs.

x 422

There is a lot of liquid in the bottom of the baking dish after all this roasting – don’t even think about throwing it out. For a start, once the pork is pulled you can add the roasting liquid to the meat, and let it absorb it all. This makes for juicy, full of flavour pork. If there is any left, keep it for making gravy at a later date – you can drain out any garlic, pickles or other detritus and stick it in the freezer. And those pickle slices you fished out? Serve them with the meat. Jen from JC calls them porkles, which is reason enough in itself to eat them.

While the pork is roasting, you should be making the other accoutrements to go with it. I chose to make everything from scratch as much as was feasible, so I made Smitten Kitchen’s brioche burger buns as the vehicle for the meat to travel from the plate to my face. They were absolutely perfect – a little sweet, a little buttery and a whole lot delicious. I even followed the recipe right, this time

x 431

Yes, this photo is a little yellow BUT the bread AND the table are kind of yellow so I was already at a disadvantage…

I also made my own slaw – and my own mayonnaise to put in the slaw, which made me grin like an idiot for ages afterwards. I’ve made my own mayo in the food processor before, which is easy and not to be frightened of at all. You can follow this fool proof recipe from the Hairy Bikers, that’s what I usually do. I do usually half it, though, because 400ml of mayonnaise is a bit more than I need at any given time, and I’m fearful of keeping it for too long.

This time, I was at the G man’s, and bereft of my food processor. I decided to make the mayo by hand, something which is notoriously tricky and prone to curdling. Or so I thought. It was actually a breeze – before I knew it, I had a bowl of creamy, lemony, fresh mayonnaise waiting to be turned into coleslaw. No curdling or any other mishaps. A lot of whisking, of course, but that’s the essence of mayo, really – eggs, oil and a lot of whisking. Paul Merret tells you exactly how to do it, here.

Mayonniase prepared and bread risen and ready to bake, I just had to put together the purple slaw. The G man had been hard at work julienning all the ingredients, bless him, and he did a sterling job, even if he refuses ever to do it again. Consider this his food preparation opus, if you will. We’d chosen the coleslaw ingredients earlier in the day – I wanted to go for something that was going to be fresh, crunchy and a bit sweet, as well as nice to look at. We settled on carrot, red cabbage, spring onion, fennel and apple. The main thing to watch out for is that when you’ve julienned the apple, it will need to be tossed in lemon juice immediately to stop it from discolouring. Keep on top of that, and you’re onto a winner.

We judged the slaw quantities by eye, so I don’t have a recipe for you – this is really more of a discussion piece than a recipe – and once the veg amounts looked right, we tossed it all in enough mayo to coat and bind it, but not enough to create bit puddles of mayonnaise in between isolated islands of veg. Coleslaw that’s too heavy on the mayo is a big no-no, for me.

Before I served the pork I added a little liquid smoke and a little bourbon to the bowl, as well as the stock from the roasting dish, and stirred it all up. Then we had the buns, pork and slaw with some of the roasted pickles and, for a different texture, some more thinly shaved slices of pickle. Two kinds of gherkin – that is a fancy dinner.

x 453

x 459

Slaw Plate

<sigh>

If they’re not yellow, they’re faded like last week’s newspaper that’s been sitting in the sun.

I’m working on it.

This was an awesome dinner, and well worth the extra effort to make everything from scratch. The mayonnaise triumph is still making me very happy. We had some extra pork left over (though not as much as you’d expect, given that we ate a vast amount in one sitting) and, the following night, I combined it with some items that had been languishing in the fridge, plus some tortilla chips, to make an awesome tray of nachos.

Pulled Pork Nachos

I made a salsa with slightly poorly looking tomatoes, thyme, tabasco sauce and spring onion – very simple but much nicer than I had even hoped, given the less than pristine condition of the tomatoes. I layered up the tortilla chips with salsa, cheese and pork – my top nacho tip is to ALWAYS make at least two layers. Think of it as a sort of lasagne; you would never have just one layer of pasta, meat sauce and cheese sauce, would you? This is the same thing. If you only have one layer, you will have those tortillas in the middle with no salsa, or meat, or cheese, and they will be lonely. You do not want that on your conscience.

Follow the links throughout the post to get to the recipes for different parts of this dinner, if you fancy making it yourself. I’ll refrain from giving you my own recipe until I’ve got it exactly right. Rest assured, I plan on making it again. I also plan on trying it with some brisket – this idea has been going round and round in my head for quite some time. It won’t be long until I just have to bit the bullet and do it, if only to make space in my head for a new idea…


Lentil and Courgette Pasta


Now, so far this year I have so many things on my metaphorical plate that I have been having trouble putting things on my actual plate, and I’ve been eating a lot of convenience food – by which I might mean crisps and biscuits – and pasta by the truckload. Pasta has always been a go-to food for me, and I stopped making it regularly for the simple reason that once I start with pasta, I can’t stop. Any kind of pasta will do – any shape or size, with any sauce, and almost invariably with half a block of cheese grated over the top. You’d think I might be able to combat this ‘problem’ by only cooking a sensible portion at a time. Nope. I just can’t bring myself to cook the right amount for one person.

Good grief. I’m a pasta addict.

Anyway, given my inability to have the right amount and not enough to feed an army, I stopped making it regularly and kept it as a real comfort food, a treat and something I could really appreciate when I made it. Until NaNoWriMo came round, and I was in need of food I could make in bulk and without too much input. Hello, pasta bake! And there I was, trapped in its warm, carbohyratey embrace once more.

This year on Rock Salt, I hope to look at quick and easy recipes that will replace my beloved pasta – there are loads of things I can make within half an hour, I just need to shake up my mindset a bit and use my imagination. The Jamie Oliver 30 Minute Meals book will be living in the kitchen, ready to refer to at the start of the week. There may even be meal planning. I can be a cook, a blogger and a writer all at once – I just need to be a bit clever about it.

However, before this golden age of quick and easy recipes begins, here is a pasta dish that I’d love to share. Lentil pasta has been an enduring recipe in my mental boxfile. It’s a recipe from girls night – I learned it from Miss J, girls night friend and sister extraordinaire. It’s a recipe designed to be cheap, easy, veggie friendly and – perhaps above all – delicious. It’s best served with plenty of black pepper and cheddar – or your favourite cheese, of course. One night last week, I was drawing a blank about what to make for dinner. I really did want to cook something, ideally something with vegetables in it, but nothing was really springing to mind. Then, it did. Lentil pasta – of course!

I added a couple of touches myself in the form of fresh thyme, chili flakes and courgette, and the end result was the best thing I can remember cooking for ages. I still ate enough to choke a horse, but there you have it.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate thyme, shall we?

 


Thyme

 

Lentil and Courgette Pasta (serves two to four, depending on your levels of restraint):

  • 1 tbsp olive oil
  • medium onion
  • two cloves garlic
  • smoked sea salt
  • 1 tbsp fresh thyme leaves – this is about 12 stems worth
  • 1/2 tsp chili flakes
  • 30g lentils – this is about two tablespoons
  • 400g tinned tomatoes
  • 200ml water
  • pinch sugar
  • 1 tsp tomato puree
  • one courgette
  • black pepper to taste

Chop the onion and thinly slice the garlic. Add to a pot with the oil, garlic, thyme, chili and a good pinch of the smoked salt. Cook over a medium high heat, stirring constantly, until the onion is lightly browned and soft.

Add the lentils and stir to mix, then add the tomatoes, water, tomato puree, sugar and another pinch of salt, and stir through again. Bring the sauce to a simmer and let it bubble for twenty minutes.

Cut the courgette into thick rounds, then quarter each round so you’re left with chunks. After the twenty minutes of simmering, add the courgette and simmer for another fifteen or until tender. Taste the sauce – you may need to add more salt and/or more sugar.

Serve with pasta shells or quills, black pepper and cheese.

 

Lentil Courgette Pasta Close

 

 

The sauce is really thick, as the lentils absorb the juice from the tomatoes and courgettes, and it hugs the pasta just perfectly. Once the thyme, garlic and chili get involved, it starts to be really quite special. And filling, let’s not forget that. Even for a pasta addict.


%d bloggers like this: