Pork Fillet & Coriander - and some Ginger Wine

So the veg box arrived on Tuesday and I checked out the contents and my list of likely meals culled from various sources in order to put together a meal plan and finalise the rest of the shopping requirements. I was still feeling uninspired and I won't lie that it was a chore, despite being faced with the kind of fresh and delicious vegetables that would normally make my heart sing.

Among other things, there was a small bunch of asparagus - such a treat, but not more than one serving's worth, so I supplemented with the final spears poking up from the garden and made a quiche on Wednesday.

A huge bag of spinach. Always tricky - I love it, kids don't.

A big bag of a herb that I knew I knew, but I couldn't identify.  How embarrassing.

Turned out it was coriander. Aromatic and fresh, but loads of it and I wasn't fancying carrot and coriander soup, despite the bunch of carrots. Curry? No. Pesto? No.


In the end I reached for Sarah Raven (she of the velvet gardening coat and close personal friendship with Emma Bridgewater - not that I'm jealous or anything). Her Garden Cookbook is a real winner if you have more than a passing relationship with vegetables. The book isn't a vegetarian cook book, but there are loads of good recipes, divided loosely into seasons and by different veggies, which is a Godsend when you have a glut - or a lack of inner inspiration.

 
One thing, they can often be quite fiddly, so that even 'simple' meals turn out to be quite task intensive. She also often uses some less common additional ingredients. Thanks to my foray into the pages earlier in the week, I am now the proud owner of a bottle of ginger wine. I suspect that sherry or marsala (for all Nigella fans) would work equally well here.

Pork Fillet with Coriander

Serves 4

450g piece of pork tenderloin, cut into 2-3 cm thick medallions
1 red onion, finely sliced
30g unsalted butter
1 tbsp olive oil
2 tsp coriander seeds, crushed
3 large mushrooms, quite thickly sliced
1 large clove of garlic, crushed
70ml ginger wine
2 heaped teaspoon soft brown sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
200ml creme fraiche
large bunch of fresh coriander, finely chopped


Melt the butter with the oil in a frying pan, then add the sliced onion and crushed coriander seeds, and cook gently for a few minutes till the onion is soft. Remove from the pan with a slotted spoon and set aside.

Add the mushrooms & garlic to the pan and cook for 2-3 minutes then add to the onions.

Add a little more oil to the pan if necessary and then turn the pork slices in the butter and oil in the pan for 3-4 minutes, before putting the onions and mushrooms back in the pan.

Add the ginger wine, sugar and lemon juice to the pan, turn up the heat a little and allow everything to cook and bubble to become syrupy.

Add the creme fraiche, salt and pepper and then stir in the chopped coriander and serve.

As Sarah suggested, it was delicious with her Spinach with Puy Lentils (my way), thus killing the spinach bird at the same time, but I have to confess that I also cooked some pasta for the kids. The creamy sauce went down very well whether it was lentils or pasta - and to give them their due, both kids ate the small amount of the lentils & spinach I gave them. 

I can feel my mojo very slowly returning...

Linking up to Herbs on Saturday hosted by Karen at Lavender and Lovage with the beautiful coriander that went into the dish.

Tomato & Chickpea Bake for the uninspired

So I bet you're all there producing delicious home cooked food for your nearest and dearest, loving it all, floating round the  kitchen, listening to the birds tweeting outside (no 140 character restriction for them), feeling like all is right with the world. 

Tell me you are, because I am most definitely not.

Yes, I am still stuck in a rut. Struck with kitchen paralysis. Needs must, however, and we all have to eat, so at the weekend, I gathered together my not inconsiderable stack of back copies of June Good Food, and worked my way through them, noting down any recipes I liked the look of - even in an "abstract-not-sure-I-can-be-arsed" type of way. For good measure, I did the same with Lorraine Pascale's Fast Fresh & Easy Food, which I got for Christmas and haven't really looked at, and also with the Leon Family & Friends book (ditto, although this one has at least made it to bedside reading).
   


The idea was that once the veg box arrived this evening, I could finalise a meal plan based on the recipes I had bookmarked, finalise an online shopping list (already full of the monthly supermarket staples such as washing powder and dog poo bags), get myself down to the butcher's tomorrow, and then just cook my way back into the groove. That's the idea, anyway. Instead, I'm writing this. But I will sort out the shopping soon. Honest.

Obviously, in the absence of the veg box till this evening, I have been making do. This evening's meal came courtesy of what was on offer in the Co-Op (tomatoes), what was in the garden (lots of parsley & thyme) and this recipe in Good Food June 2009...

Tomato & Chickpea bake

2 tbsp olive oil
1 red onion
1 courgette
1 tsp harissa paste
800g tomatoes, peeled & de-seeded (if you can be bothered)
Some sprigs of thyme, leaves only
fresh ground pepper
400g can chickpeas, drained
big bunch of parsley, chopped
4-6 slices of decent crusty white bread - baguette or similar
50g finely grated cheese

Pre-heat the oven to 200C

Heat 1 tbsps olive oil in a large pan and chop the onion and courgette quite finely. Add to the pan and cook on a gentle heat for 8-10 minutes, then stir in the harissa.

Add the chopped tomatoes and about 200ml water, half the thyme leaves and a couple of grinds of pepper. Bring to the boil and simmer for about 8 minutes, then add the chickpeas and cook for another couple of minutes. Stir in the chopped parsley, and tip into an oven proof dish.

Brush the slices of bread lightly with oil from the remaining tablespoon. Mix together the cheese and the rest of the thyme. Lay the bread over the chick peas and tomato mixture, then scatter over the cheese and bake for 15-20 minutes till the cheese and bread are golden

The kids (and the Husband) had it with sausages. I just had it as it was. You might want to add some Tabasco, or other chilli sauce (or just increase the harissa, depending on the palates you are catering for).

As my blogging mojo has disappeared somewhat with my cooking mojo, I am attempting to get myself back up there by linking this up to a few blogging events.

All the parsley and thyme put this squarely in Herbs on a Saturday territory, and June's challenge is hosted by Karen herself on Lavender & Lovage. 

Bookmarked Recipes also applies here, hosted by Jacqueline at Tinned Tomatoes, even though I suppose I haven't really cooked what the recipe was at all. 

Arabian nights - cardamon coffee & dates, and a distinct lack of inspiration

May be it's the fact that for the last week, I haven't actually had to cook anything apart from some bacon sarnies, but I am completely and utterly all out of enthusiasm for my kitchen. A weekend at mum's (from which I have returned with yet another rhubarb cake recipe - possibly the best yet - watch this space) followed by camping with the kids, and I'm back in my house, in my own kitchen and can I think of anything at all that I want to cook? Nope.

So while I'm waiting for inspiration to strike (and it better strike soon or the troops will be mutiny-ing) I'll share a little delight that the Husband treated me to this evening (no not THAT kind of treat - this is a family friendly blog).

The Husband has been off in the desert doing things I do not particularly choose to understand, and which, even if I did, I couldn't tell you about. When not involved in those things, he has been meeting camels, taking photos of lizards, and enjoying the hospitality that is customary in that part of the world. While it appears that much of the food available to him and his colleagues was met at best with unease ('chicken enema' being the least popular dish on the 3 day rotating menu. I say no more), he did enjoy some Bedouin hospitality in the form of cardamon coffee and dates, while lounging about in a carpeted tent. You get the picture. The following day, one of his hosts appeared with bags of Arabic coffee, a bag of cardamon pods and packs of dates and some vague instructions for preparation.

This evening, the Husband cooked pasta carbonara with asparagus from the garden. It was delicious - I meant to take a photo to sing his praises further, but it was too tasty and it all disappeared far too quickly). He then offered to make me Arabic coffee, and Blue, who adores dates, persuaded him to let us crack open the dates.

Dates are a very prized commodity in the part of the world where the Husband was staying, and these are completely delicious. Honestly, you may scoff, but they are almost chocolatey in their texture and ability to satisfy. And this from a confirmed chocoholic. I have no idea, but I'd guess these were up at the top of the date charts.

The coffee - well, the instructions were to make up the coffee, and add 1 part ground cardamom pods to 2 parts coffee used after the water has been added to the coffee.

Apart from the fact that it gave us the chance to use my Granny's coffee jug and cups which I love with a passion, I was really intrigued as to what it would taste like.

Coffee-wise, it's not nearly as strong as you might imagine. I'm no coffee connoisseur, although I definitely prefer ground to instant, and I was expecting some kind of Turkish-so-strong-your-spoon-stands-up-in-it brew, but no, this was much more delicate. The cardamom was the dominant taste, but in a good way, although we erred on the side of overdoing it and added the shells as well as the seeds to the brew. Combined with the dates, it was a really delicious end to a meal - and much grander than the occasion itself.

I'd like to try it with a stronger coffee, and may be leave out the shells, and just go with the ground cardamom seeds. I can also feel the stirrings of a cardamom coffee date cake...

While we were enjoying these delicacies, the Husband shared with us the story that his host had passed on, that all boys in that part of the world are taught how to make this coffeee as one of the first things they do. Blue digested this fact, and then recounted how, in Ancient Egypt, baboons were trained to collect dates. he paused and then went on, with 9yr old glee "And did you know, it was supposed to be really good luck to have dates that the baboons had poo'd on.". 

Thanks darling. Back to chicken enema in one swift conversational move. I really need to get some inspiration quick.

Curry in a hurry? No, on the beach, actually - A review of the Barricane Beach Cafe

So the second May Bank Holiday is upon us. The Husband is still in the desert and I have escaped North for a couple of days, before returning South and taking the kids camping on my own. I won't speculate about my sanity - I lost most of that on the M1 on Friday afternoon/evening -  or the likely success or failure of the planned expedition at this stage. If I'm not totally traumatised by the whole thing, I may share the highlights at some point, but for now, I am reminiscing about the first May Bank Holiday.

It feels like an age away, and yet is was only a few weeks ago, that we went with some great friends, to North Devon, and had a totally brilliant weekend away.

Liz's photo of our camp by night...

If you're interested in the campsite we stayed at, you can read the guest review I wrote for the lovely Yellowfields Camping blog. If you're interested in campfire campsites, and more back to basics camping, you really should visit this blog, but here, as you know, it's mostly about the food.

One of the reasons why it was such a great weekend was that it allowed us the opportunity to eat curry on the beach as the sun went down. In England. In May. 

Allow me to present the Barricane Beach Cafe.

When the Husband and I 'discovered' this place, thanks to a throw away comment in the 'Wild Swimming - Coast' book by Daniel Start (which I would thoroughly recommend if you have even half an inclination to swim in the sea around the UK. What? You don't? Why ever not??) we couldn't believe it. Just round the corner from the surf paradise of Woolacombe, more a cove than a beach, is the lovely Barricane, or Shell Beach, and at the top of the beach, not much more than a shack, outdoor tables only, is this cafe. Al fresco dining at its best.  

On our first visit 3 or 4 years' ago, the kids were too young to appreciate the experience (if my memory serves me well, Pink was particularly objectionable), but we recognised it as 'a special place', and I've been itching to go back ever since.

I have never been able to find a dedicated website for the Barricane Beach Cafe - it crops up, though, on other blogs. Trip Advisor has a whole load of rave reviews on it, and these are ones you can actually believe. During the day, it serves sandwiches, cakes, cold cans of drink - the usual. From 6 p.m. though, curry is served.

Currently £8 for a generous plateful, we had the choice of 'devilled chicken' or 'devilled beef' curry. More Malaysian/ Thai style than Indian, but no less delicious for that. And that's it. 2 choices. With rice and salad. Perfect (although jacket potatoes are available making it an ideal place to go if you need to satisfy less sophisticated palates at the same time).

Thrown in with that is the opportunity to eat your plate whilst gazing out to sea as the sun goes down, and feel awash with goodwill. Which, as the advert goes, is priceless.

Your view - should you choose to accept it...

Rhubarb Amaretti Crunch

I may have mentioned before that a glut of rhubarb is never something I consider to be a problem.

I love the stuff and the kids do too.

I was in 'empty the fridge' mode this evening, and trying to cook a reasonably special tea for Blue who for once got me all to himself after school.

Half empty pots of soured cream and 0% fat Greek yoghurt, some amaretti biscuits, and rhubarb in the garden. Pudding!

This is barely a recipe, and while I was conscious that I was going to blog it, I didn't pay a huge amount of attention to the quantities I was using. But it doesn't matter, because this is absolutely the type of thing that you can muck about with. No amaretti biscuits - use ginger biscuits. I expect Hobnobs would be OK too, although either almonds or ginger do go particularly well with rhubarb, so bear that in mind when choosing your crunch element. As for the dairy product - you could use whipped double cream, natural yoghurt... You could even change the rhubarb for something entirely different. Although, then, it wouldn't be Rhubarb Amaretti Crunch...


Rhubarb Amaretti Crunch

Serves 2

170g rhubarb
1tbsp soft brown sugar
juice of half an orange
2 generous tbsp sour cream
2 generous tbsp 0% fat Greek yoghurt
amaretti biscuits

First, trim the rhubarb and slice into small pieces. Add to a pan with the sugar and orange juice and gently cook till soft, then set aside. 

Mix together the sour cream and the yoghurt.

Divide the cooked rhubarb between 2 glasses, and carefully spoon some of the cream/yoghurt mix on top. Crumble some amarettis on top then repeat till all is used up, or the glasses are full.

Serve, with extra amaretti biscuits if you have some.

Lemon & Almond Buns - A Random Recipe

There always comes a time when there's a change of routine when you need to bring out the big guns. It's a watershed moment that can be easy to spot if you've experienced it a few times. 

Things are different, no-one's really settled into whatever the change is. Comfort and indulgence is the order of the day to get everyone over the hump and get on with the rest of whatever it is.

Comfort came bun shaped today

I've observed this on Scout Camp the last few years. usually around Day 3. That's when we pull out the biscuits and the hot chocolate at bed time, do some mass jollying along.

Here in the RJ household, we had our own jollying along moment on Sunday morning.

The Husband headed off last Monday for what is probably the longest time he's been away from us since he left the Army. While he's sitting in the desert, surrounded by 'MaMBA' (No, not snakes, Miles and Miles of Bugger All), posting the occasional photo of a lizard on Facebook, Blue, Pink, Fred the Dog, the chickens and I have been trying to sort out a new modus operandi, not required for the shorter trips he's often making. There has been a Daddy-less 7th birthday and a couple of late nights because somehow things have slipped. There has been fractious bickering, there have been tears. The kids are responsible for feeding the chickens and watering the greenhouse - I am responsible for making sure they remember they are responsible. There has been an angry moment (mine) with the lawn mower (don't go there), and more tears (the kids) when the internet occasionally fails to allow Skype to work for the brief period of time when a conversation with Daddy is appropriate.

When I selected my Random Recipe for Dom's challenge for this month -  'Bread' , I wasn't really sure when I'd get round to baking and entering the challenge. My selection of bread baking books and bread baking sections of books included the Sweet & Fruit breads chapter in 'Short & Sweet' by Dan Lepard, and this recipe was where my page flicking ended up. Lemon & Almond Buns - "... a lemon flavoured butter dough that bakes like brioche around a gooey core of marzipan..." Delicious, sure, but a month full of camping, working out my notice at work and preparing to go freelance, sailing the ship on my own, I wasn't sure that there would be time.

Well, may be there wasn't time, but what became apparent over Saturday was that time or not, the kids needed some indulgence. This would normally have been a cinammon bun moment, but instead, the moment for Lemon & Almond Buns arose.

Now, having already fallen foul of Mr Lepard's rather zealous business manager in the past check out the comments), I am not going to even begin to repeat the recipe here. However for those of you wishing to recreate these beautiful buns, you will be pleased to know that they were published in the Guardian Online in 2006 and you can find the recipe here.

Pretty straightforward, although you need to start the night before to get a rough dough into the fridge, and if you want them for breakfast before about 9, you need to be up just before 7, which is fine unless you've had more than a couple of glasses of morale boosting wine with your lovely and supportive neighbours after you've manhandled the kids into bed, tears wiped, stories read,  in which case you might end up having breakfast a little later on...

It's an enriched, lemon scented bread dough which needs little kneading.

From this...

You roll it out into a 70cm by 10cm rectangle, 

to this

then put a sausage of marzipan into the middle of the rectangle and seal the dough over it before slicing into pieces, proving and baking.

The only thing that I can tell you about the recipe is that I had no flaked almonds in, so instead of brushing the cooked buns with melted butter, sprinkling with toasted flaked almonds and dredging with icing sugar, I made up a runny lemon icing using the juice of a lemon (the zest had already gone into the dough), and then sprinkled with poppy seeds.

What can I say? The lemony brioche type bread was light, lemony (as promised) and delicious. The marzipan was oozy and heavenly. The kids LOVED it, and have requested a repeat performance next week, and the next. And strangely enough, everything calmed down today. 

10 days to go...

Sage & Onion Stuffing - made fresh for Fresh Week

Stuffing is something that I'll readily admit to buying, dried, ready to reconstitute with water and roast. With the challenge of Fresh Week upon me, I decided to make my own to go with the roast pork we had on Sunday.

Adapting a recipe from Mrs Beeton that I found reproduced on line, it was very straightforward, and with a food processor, really not much more trouble than opening a packet and adding boiling water. Tasty too!

4 onions, peeled, but left whole
A handful of sage leaves
125g bread crumbs
40g butter cut into small pieces
1 small egg
salt & pepper

Bring a pan of water to the boil and add the onions to cook for 5 minutes. Chuck in the sage leaves for the last minute of cooking. I did this in the pan that I was parboiling the spuds before roasting.

Chop the sage and onion finely in a food processor or with a knife, then mix together with the bread crumbs, butter and the egg, and season.

Put the stuffing into a tin (I adapted one of my tins using tin foil), even out and bake for 30 - 40 minutes or so with your meat.

Unfortunately, we ate it all before I got the chance to take a photograph, but I'd definitely make it again. If you're planning a roast for your Fresh Week Sunday dinner, I'd recommend it.