CAULIFLOWER AND POTATO SOUP WITH DIJON MUSTARD

Last week the weather was mild enough for us Londoners to think that winter was on the way out. The temperatures were up to 14°C and we were treated to a dose of sticky humidity. I could even walk to the tube without a coat on....





This week is another story. The little weather widget on my computer tells me it’s 4°C, so any illusions I had that spring was on it’s way have been dashed. One and a half more months to go!





But wherever there’s a cloud there’s a silver lining, and this silky cauliflower soup is it. It’s perfectly wintery, indulgent and delicious. Just the ticket for a cold, grey London day. It will warm you up from the inside out.





The original recipe included a teaspoon of mustard powder but I’ve never been completely convinced by mustard powder so chose to leave it out. To compensate I added extra Dijon mustard near the end, tasting the soup as I went to make sure the mustard didn’t overpower the other flavours. If you’re a bit fonder of the powdered stuff than I am, by all means add it to yours! (Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of Colman’s dry mustard powder to the pan before adding the potatoes and cauliflower. I might try this next time just to see what it's like.)







I inevitably eat my soup with hot buttery toast, but if you’re feeling fancy you could serve this in bowls with crunchy blue cheese toasts perched on the side or some homemade croutons fried in garlic butter sprinkled on top.

Even if the weather doesn’t warm up in the next few weeks, at least we have a valid excuse to stay indoors, wrap ourselves in blankets and sit cross-legged on the couch with warm bowls of soup.

(And try to pretend it's not summer back home....)



CAULIFLOWER AND POTATO SOUP WITH DIJON MUSTARD
(adapted from the Cuisine website)

100g butter
1 large brown onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, finely sliced
1 large head cauliflower, cut into florets (or two small)
4 large potatoes, peeled and diced
1 litre chicken stock, vegetable stock or water
200ml milk
salt to taste
4-5 tablespoons Dijon mustard
freshly cracked black pepper

Melt the butter in a large saucepan then add the onion and garlic. Fry until translucent. Add the potatoes and sauté for a few minutes. Stir in the cauliflower. Pour in the stock and milk. Cover, bring to a gentle simmer and cook until the potato is very tender, adding more liquid if necessary.

When the vegetables are cooked, remove from the liquid with a slotted spoon, purée with salt to taste and the mustard. Return to the saucepan with the stock broth and bring back to heat, stirring gently. Serve in bowls with a swirl of cream and sprinkling of freshly cracked pepper.

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GINGER NUTS

When I was nineteen, I used to nanny for a family with two children. Tom was twelve and I think Charlotte must’ve been about nine. Such cute kids. Tom was quiet and bookish in the sweetest way, and would be in his room doing homework for most of the evening before he went to bed. But Charlotte was bubbly and loved company and would often sit with me finishing off her homework at the kitchen table or just having a chat.



It was with Charlotte that I discovered this ginger nut biscuit recipe.





One evening she whipped up a batch after dinner. You could tell she knew her stuff. She melted the butter with confidence, drizzling spoons of golden syrup into the pot (and all over the bench) with the most serious expression on her face. And what came out of the oven were delicious honey-coloured discs of goodness. They were so good that I got her to copy me out the recipe which she wrote in pencil on a white sheet of paper. I still have it in my recipe book and every time I see her wonky little kid writing I think of her.





Charlotte always followed the recipe exactly which said to bake them for only 10 minutes, so hers were always chewy and soft: so good eaten warm straight out of the oven for a snack before bedtime with a glass of milk. I like my ginger nuts hard and crunchy and really gingery, so I add extra ginger and leave them in the oven for about 20 minutes until they turn deep brown and little tiny cracks appear all over the surface. (Almost exactly like the shop-bought ones from home - but better!)





What I particularly like about these biscuits is that you’ll probably have all the ingredients already in your cupboards – perfect for spur of the moment baking, as I discovered last Sunday when I had a sudden impulse to do a bit of baking at one in the afternoon still dressed in my pyjamas....





You can even dress them up a bit and serve them for dessert with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and some stem ginger preserved in sugar syrup spooned over the top.



Recipes that remind you of someone or evoke particular memories are my favourite kind, and to me these will always be Charlotte’s Ginger Nuts.



CHARLOTTE'S GINGER NUTS

100g butter
1 tablespoon golden syrup (I used about 1 ½)
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1 ¾ cups plain flour
2 teaspoons ginger (I added 3, but would probably add about 5 next time to get a more intense ginger flavour)
1 teaspoon baking soda

Melt butter in saucepan. Stir in rounded household tablespoon of syrup. Soften then remove from heat.
Add the sugar and egg and beat with a wooden spoon to mix.
Measure dry ingredients into pot through sieve. Stir to mix.
Spoon warm mixture onto greased or sprayed trays, allowing space for spreading. Cool mixture may be shaped into balls if preferred.
Preheat oven to 190°C between tray loads, bake at 180°C for about 10 minutes, until lightly browned. If you prefer, hard, crunchy biscuits, leave them in the oven for approximately 20 minutes or until they turn a deep golden brown.
Lift off tray when cool. Store in airtight container.

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EGYPTIAN CHICKEN WITH APRICOTS + FIGS

Spring has arrived in London. It's such a different experience from the change in season back home which is much gentler and less noticeable. All the trees down our street are either in bloom or already covered in new leaves. I know I'm meant to be craving salads and crunchy, fresh things now that the warm weather is upon us, but a couple weeks ago there was still enough of a chill in the air to remind me of the snow and icy wind we'd recently escaped. I wasn't quite ready to give up the warming, hearty dishes of winter.

A tagine sounded just about right. Perfect for a chilly day but so full of the flavours of summer that you can hardly call it winter fare. Whenever I want to cook something from the Middle East, I always turn to recipes from my favourite New Zealand chef/cook, Julie Le Clerc.





Inspired by the heritage of her Lebanese great grandfather, Julie traveled to Morocco, Lebanon, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Egypt, Jordan and Iran; a journey culminating in two beautiful cook books on the food and culinary traditions of the Middle East. I have given both of these books to Chris' mother Barbara. Everything either of us has made from their pages has turned out wonderfully and several of the recipes have even become regular favourites.

The dish I chose to cook last Sunday night was from the second of the two, 'Taking Tea in the Medina'. ('Made in Morocco' is the first.) I've made this recipe a few times, and every time I do, I remember why. Because it's so delicious. It's fragrant yet simple, enticing yet honest. The kind of food I love.













Every step in this recipe is easy. There are no exclusive or hard-to-find ingredients and, as long as you take your time and don't try to rush it, it will turn out exactly the way it's meant to.









You can serve it as it comes or with a dollop of thick, plain yoghurt on the side. I also made a quick salad of sliced cucumber and fennel, sprinkled with fresh mint leaves and dressed with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and the juice of half a lemon.





I can't wait to start traveling through this part of the world and experience first hand what I have only seen in the pages of a book or on a screen.

In the mean time, my kitchen is an adequate substitute – clouds of cinnamon and cumin laced steam rising from my cook top. Halving dried figs and apricots, the sugary, concentrated juice coating my fingers. Filling a cast-iron pot with layers of ingredients and covering and baking until meltingly soft. The heavily spiced aroma of cooking in the air.

A worthy send-off to our first winter in London!


Egyptian Chicken with Apricots + Figs
(slightly adapted from Taking Tea in the Medina by Julie Le Clerc)

12 chicken thighs (with bone in)
sea salt + freshly ground black pepper
olive oil
1 cup dried apricots
1/2 cup dried figs, halved
1/4 cup raisins or sultanas
2 onions, finely sliced
2 teaspoons each ground cinnamon + coriander
2 1/2 cups chicken stock
1 1/2 cups long grain rice

1. Preheat oven to 190°C. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Heat a frying pan, add a little oil and brown chicken pieces for 5-6 minutes on each side until golden brown. Remove to a roasting pan or dish and scatter with apricots, figs and raisins.

2. In the same frying pan, cook onions over a gentle heat in a little more oil for 10 minutes until softened but not coloured. Add spices and fry for 1 minute. Add stock and bring to the boil, then pour this sauce over the chicken. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes.

3. Cook rice in boiling water for 10 minutes, then drain well. Season with salt and pepper and place in a buttered ovenproof dish. Spoon chicken and sauce on top. Cover with foil (and a lid if you have one to go with your oven dish) and bake for a further 30 minutes or until chicken tests cooked - when a sharp knife is inserted to the bone and the juices run clear.

4. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper if necessary before serving.

Serves 6

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CHICKEN BAKED WITH LENTILS

Well, here it is. My first post!

I hadn't known exactly how or when to start; or that I would use this recipe as the very first. But somehow it seemed right. I had the kitchen to myself last Sunday afternoon. It was a grey, quiet day. Chris was out, braving the London cold, trying to find me a couple of heads of elusive radicchio; which had on first inspection seemed unacceptably bedraggled but, after an hour of searching for a more sprightly offerings, were determined 'better than nothing'. I had spent the last hour reading and sitting by our lounge windows, enjoying the last of the daylight and thinking I should get into the kitchen and start cooking.

Chris's sister and her husband were coming over for a Sunday night family dinner. It was cold and bleak outside and I felt like making something warming and filling. No-nonsense comfort food. The Wednesday Chef had posted a great dish called 'Florence Fabricant's Chicken Baked with Lentils' which ticked all the boxes and which I knew would be easy to prepare without too much fuss. This kind of still Sunday could only handle something simple and effortless to put together.

I began by finely slicing the celery into rows of half moons, chopping the onions, slicing the garlic. Chris arrived home with the radicchio which were surprisingly lovely, and while slightly tired-looking round the edges, introduced a welcome burst of colour into the kitchen.










After frying the lardons until golden and crumbly crisp, all the chopped vegetables were added to the cast-iron Fontignac cocotte my mother brought me over from France. (Which by the way is amazing; just as good and almost half the price of a Le Creuset! I say this even though I do love Le Creuset far more than is normal for a girl my age....)

A couple of spoons of cumin stirred in at the right moment. The shredded radicchio and minced sage next, and a good glug of red wine vinegar to deglaze the pan.



I have to admit that sage always confuses me somehow. I can't quite understand how such a pungent, musty smelling herb can add such an incredible depth of flavour to a dish without smothering all others. And yet, somehow, it does.

The stock, lentils and cooked lardons, followed by the browned chicken are then added to the dish, lid on and into the oven for an hour. Easy as pie.






When I read The Wednesday Chef/Luisa's comments about the chicken's delicate lace-like skin, I was slightly skeptical. How can chicken skin which has been fried in oil and then baked in bubbling stock ever turn out 'lace-like'? To be honest I was imagining something less delicate. But low and behold, I removed the lid and.... papery 'lace-like' skin! Light and translucent, that crinkled as it cooled. I know this sounds weird, but it's delicious and looks lovely. Chicken skin? Lovely? Trust me. Try it and you'll see for yourself.



The meal was declared a success. The chicken was tasty and meltingly soft of course, as chicken which has been covered and baked in an oven will always be. A salad of crisp leaves and finely sliced fennel dressed with a sweetened red-wine vinaigrette brightened up the table and contrasted nicely with the other earthy flavours.

But the real star of the show were the lentils. There were layers of flavour hidden within each forkful and the more you ate the better they tasted. These lentils are good - really good.

Make them when you're in need of warmth, want some comfort, are tired, cold, sad or just hungry for something tasty and satisfying.

I think this will become a regular favourite in our little house. Something to look forward to at the start of winter.

Chicken Baked with Lentils
(slightly adapted from Florence Fabricant and The Wednesday Chef)
Serves 4 to 6

1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
200 grams pork lardons or a piece of thick bacon, sliced
8 pieces chicken thighs/legs, bone in and patted dry
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups finely chopped onions, about 2 medium onions
1/2 cup finely chopped celery, about 2 ribs
4-6 cloves garlic, sliced
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2-3 cups finely sliced radicchio, about 1 head, cored
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons minced fresh sage
2 cups brown lentils
3 cups chicken stock, more if needed

1. Heat oil in a large ovenproof casserole. Add lardons or bacon and cook on medium until golden. Remove. Season chicken with salt and pepper and add, skin side down. Sear until golden on medium-high heat, working in two shifts if necessary. Remove from pan. Heat oven to 160ºC. Pour off all but 2-3 tablespoons fat from pan.

2. Add onions, celery and garlic, cook on medium until soft and translucent. Stir in cumin. Add radicchio, vinegar and sage; sauté briefly. Add lentils, stock and cooked lardons or bacon.

3. Return chicken to pan, bring to a simmer, cover and place in oven. Cook about an hour, until lentils are tender and most, but not all, of the liquid has been absorbed. Lentils should be thick and saucelike but not soupy. Add a little stock if needed. Check seasoning, adding more salt and pepper if needed, then serve.

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