Roast Chicken and Polenta

Tonight I finally got round to roasting the chicken that I have been meaning to cook for some time. I didn't really make my mind up on what I was going to do with this bird until I got off the tube. I guess I could have referred to a recipe book, but after a day at work and then the gym, I didn't really feel like struggling over anything fussy. So, I strolled along to my favourite Turkish grocery store, Yildiz, where I picked up a nice little bunch of parsley and a lemon. I had in mind to combine this with a couple of cloves of finely chopped garlic and a big lump of butter to baste the bird. In the event, I forgot the garlic and so I had a more gentle lemon and parsley flavoured chicken, which was nevertheless delicious.

I mashed the butter (a 250g block) with a handful of chopped parsley and the grated rind of a lemon. I pushed this under the breast-skin of the bird. I then chopped the lemon in half and put it inside the body cavity. The idea is to produce an incredibly tender bird so that when you slice into it the meat almost falls off the carcass. The seasonings soak into the meat along with the butter. When it is ready, the buttery juices produce a wonderfully rich gravy.

To serve alongside the chicken I plumped to make up a big pan of smooth, comforting polenta. At certain times, I am a great lover of bland food. Especially if you are dealing with the more subtle flavours of northern European cookery, it is important for me not to set up too many conflicting flavours. Polenta is perfect for this because while it has its own simple flavour, it doesn't fight with the 'main act' on the plate.

It was the first time that I had made this particular grain dish. I have to admit that I have been a little reluctant to try it - although I am not really sure what has held me back. If I am to be honest, it is probably largely a fear of messing up a dish that has somehow gained a reputation for being tricky.

Of course, it turned out to be quite straightforward - although this being my first attempt, the result was possibly a bit lumpy and I may not quite have got the weight to water ratio right (I lack a set of scales, so dry weights have to be guessed - it is a serious thing not to have, I really ought to do something about it). Originally, I planned to make hot polenta to soak up the chicken juices, but when it was made it looked a bit unappetising, so I took Jill Norman's advice to make fried polenta cakes. This involved a bit more work (laying the hot polenta out on a tray and letting it cool, then cutting it up and frying it in olive oil.

Polenta

300g coarse polenta

1.5 litres of water

salt

1. Bring the water to a rolling boil and add the salt.
2. Pour the polenta into the boiling water slowly whisking rapidly all the time to prevent lumps from forming.
3. Lower the heat and keep stirring the polenta with a wooden spoon for about 30 minutes.
4. The polenta will be ready when it comes away from the side of the pan.

To make fried polenta, spead the hot polenta on a flat surface to a depth of about 2cm and allow to cool completely. Cut it into segments and fry in a few tablespoons of olive oil until golden brown.

Acuna frittata

This is a dish that I absolutely love. There are some foods that you appreciate, there are others that you enjoy making. But with frittata, it is a primal passion. It is not particularly cultivated food, but it is incredibly satisfying - especially when you discover it in the fridge, having made it the day before and left it wrapped up overnight. There is something incredibly satisfying about the texture of the egg with the potato when it is cold. Added to this is the way that the bland base elements that make up a classic frittata carry the other flavours that you add in.

This frittata came to me this afternoon while I was on an errand to Sainsbury's for something entirely different (which they frustratingly didn't have). It has been a scorching weekend here and my plan to roast a chicken this Sunday got shelved (although I am now planning to get my hands on some tarragon and roast it tomorrow night to eat cold the rest of the week). The joy of the frittata is that it takes such incredibly simple ingredients and turns them into a wholly satisfying summer meal.

My first experience of frittata was when it was cooked for me by a Spanish guy called Davide with whom I shared a room in Germany a couple of years ago. Having watched Davide's progress in the kitchen for several weeks, I was not particularly excited when he announced that he would be providing the catering for our weekly Friday night supper party. I was living in an international hostel and each week, the representatives of one country would take it upon themselves to provide a flavour of their own cuisine. From what I had observed, most of Davide's cooking involved a frying pan, an unhealthy amount of cooking oil and the less desirable joints of the noble chicken. So when I saw Davide reach for the frying pan on the annointed Friday, I was not particular surprised or eager. but when the golden crusted frittata arrived at the table I was more than willing to hire the guy as my personal chef! While pizza often leaves me feeling disatisfied (and as though I have just chomped my way through a loaf of bread) frittata was a revelation. Of most importance as far as I was concerned, was that you could taste the ingredients. Davide's frittata were not particularly fancy, but they tomato, potato and pepper burst from their eggy casing and exploded in my mouth.

For tonight's frittata I tried to keep things simple - potato, a little red onion, a handful of lardons and some torn-up basil leaves. I am not a huge fan of tomato in frittata - I find it tends to increase the cooking time so that you end up with an omlette that is dry on the outside and soggy in the middle. I also added a few chili flakes, because, as I have already said repeatedly, this is a dish that allows strong flavours to sing.

The result, even if I say so my self, was a triumph. The recipe does not have any particular provinence (although I was a little inspired by this recipe on delicious days). I am sure that I must have read a recipe for this dish at some point in the past, but I don't remember where it was and as this dish is so inherently sensible and so much part of so many mediterranean cuisines, I am not going to try to pin it down to one particular place. Indeed, I guess you could equally call this a tortilla, or a Spanish Omlette...

Frittata

3 medium waxy potatoes
1 small red onion
2 finely chopped cloves of garlic
25g smoked lardons
1/2 tsp chili flakes
knob of butter and a dash of vegetable oil
4 large eggs
salt and pepper
bunch of basil

1. Peel the potato and onion. Slice thinly into rounds. Melt the butter and oil in a large frying pan.
2. Layer the potato and onion in the pan, lower the heat and saute until soft (about 20 minutes). After about 10 minutes spinkle over the garlic. Turn periodically.
3. whisk the eggs and season with salt and pepper.
4. When the potatoes are nearly ready, add the lardons and turn so that they are evenly distributed and get a chance to cook.
5. Turn up the heat to a medium. Pour over the egg mixture and shake the pan so that it runs to all corners and through the potatoes. Leave for the eggs to set. You will need to run the spatula around the side of the pan and let the eggs run into any gaps.
6. Once you feel the bottom is set take it off the heat and whip it under the grill to set the top. Be patient and wait until it is golden brown
7. At this point you need to turn it out onto something (a plate, a tray). If you are lucky, it will turn out in once piece. If not, it will still taste great.
8. Allow it to cool and slice into wedges.

Eat Your Crusts begins

So, I am entering the realm of the food blog. Inspired by some of the great sites I have come accross, I have taken my courage in my hands to put my own experiences and experiments online. I have no claims to being a great cook, and I don't always have the time to prepare the food I would like to, but I do have a passion for good, simple, lovingly prepared food. I care about using good ingredients and letting them do their thing. Food is far more than a way of getting full - it is an expression of your mood, your feelings. It can be a way of showing love and eating a meal with someone is one of the most intimate ways of sharing.

I like to think that my style of cooking is relaxed. Growing up, my greatest influences have come from the free spirits of English cookery - Nigel Slater, Jennifer Pattison and Clarrisa Dickson-Wright, Elizabeth David. I care more about the process and experience of cooking than about producing a picture-perfect plate of food. I also like to think of myself as an economical cook: I eat on a budget and that means that I cannot splash out on many of the greater gastronomic pleasures. Meat features once or twice a week in my cooking. When I cook it, I like to make something worthwhile. The rest of the time, I experiment with what can be made by combining a well-stocked larder and a few fresh ingredients.

Cooking on a budget is no mean feat in the UK today. Good quality fresh produce is hard to come by and when you do stumble accross it, it is often over-prices and wrapped in polythene. Living in London, we are blessed with a plethora of local greengrocers. In my corner of north London, the large Cypriot population means some really good Greek/Turkish stores filled with stacks of wonderful fresh parsley and mint, vats of olives and beautifully fresh breads.

Cooking in the UK today, it is impossible not to be heavily influenced by mediterranean cooking. Olive oil is king and I am happy to admit that I eat my fair share of pasta meals. But I also love to cook traditional English dishes, especially during the long Autumn and Winter months. The subtle, herbal flavours of stews, roasts and braises, along with the satisfying solidity of cakes and puddings have a special place in my heart. It is an immense blessing to be able to combine these with the vibrant, fissile flavours of mediterranean, Indian and south-east Asian cooking.

I also eat out when ever I can. I have been on quite a Japanese kick since arriving in London last year - partly because Japanese food is so easy to come-by here. In contrast to the food I cook on a daily basis, the Japanese food experience offers a wonderful balance and harmony - raising eating to a much more elegant level. I also have a weakness for Indian food that I should really pursue more.

And, in a roundabout sort of way, I guess that brings me to the point where I should set out the mission for this blog. As much as it will have a direction, the aim of this site is to encourage me to get out and about, trying new foods, exploring new stores and markets (I am ashamed to say that I have spent far too little time in London's fabulous food markets. It is also to encourage me to get more of my cookbooks off the shelf and actually experiment with new flavours and style of cooking. I will aim to record my experiences and maybe encourage other people to take food more seriously and to spend more time enjoying one of the most satisfying processes - preparing and eating food.

Tabbouleh

I have just made taboulleh - a glorious mound of golden bulgar wheat and dark green herbs. It is sitting, waiting to be eaten. When I have tried it, I will come back and report...

... so I have made it now. And eaten it - yesterday evening and this evening too. I also fed some to my friend P. who turned up last night having not eaten supper. I was pretty pleased with how it turned out. I referred to several recipes. Nigel Slater suggested using the juice of two lemons, while Claudia Roden said 'at least two lemons'. Having made it, I think I veer on the side of Roden. As I see it, the point of taboulleh is to have something cool, sharp and yet with the satisfying starchiness of the bulgar wheat. If anything, I would say that this dish could have done with a little more acidity (and perhaps a little more olive oil too - but you live and learn.

I was also a little bit uncertain about the amount of herbs to add. Claudia Roden called for three large bunches of parsley and a bunch of mint. I thought this sounded like quite a lot (especially as the parsley bunches at my neighbourhood turkish store are HUGE!) so I plumped for one big bunch of parsley and one of mint. The mint was fabulous - big glossy green leaves without any woody stems and a scent that I could smell coming out of the shopping bag as I walked back from the store in the sun yesterday afternoon.

Anyway, P.'s impression was generally positive - although not perhaps the greatest fan of platesful of grains... I think I'll keep on experimenting with the amounts of lemon juice and the herbs.

Tabbouleh

75g bulghar wheat
1 large bunch of flat-leaf parsley
1 bunch of mint
juice of 2-3 lemons
2 tablespoons good olive oil
4 small sping onions
salt and pepper

1. Put the bulghar wheat in a bowl and cover with cold water. Leave to soak for 15 minutes (or a bit longer - it should be al dente).
2. Finely chop the herbs and the spring onions.
3. Put the herbs in a bowl with the lemon juice, oil and seasoning. Stir well.
4. Squeeze the water out of the bulghar wheat (I'd put it in a muslin or tea towel, but you could do it with your hands if they are bigger than mine!)
5. Add the wheat to the herb mix and stir in gently.