Chicken and ham broth with rice, pumpkin, chorizo, sage and a poached egg

I don’t like telling you what to do, but on this occasion, I must. It is almost the weekend, and it is very much Autumn, so what I need you to do, is to go out and buy a couple of raw chicken carcasses (most butchers will have them, and failing that 500g chicken wings), some ham bones, if you can get them, or a ham hock. You see with these, and some veg, you can make a sublime broth which will keep you in gorgeous soups for the week, as I have done. I just needed soup and lots of it.

A home made broth is wonderful, far surpassing any commercial pretenders. Even those home made ones you see in shop fridges will not have been made with the love and care that yours can be made with at home. Love and care brings flavour, and health, and joy. I am insisting that you give this a go.

A good home made stock will have clear strong flavours, but it is gentle too, and only ever supports what you add to it, it never dominates. Shop bought stocks, especially the cubes, always do. It is an effort, but making a big batch when you have the time is very rewarding, the bulk of the work lies in waiting for it to be done.

There are many things you can do with this stock. A steaming mug of it on its own brings great pleasure and sustenance. With shredded chicken, leftover or not, some spring onions, some coriander and some chilli, you have a vigorous bright chicken soup, with a ham backbone. It also freezes well. Continue reading

Spending so much of the spring out of the country means that I have a lot of catching up to do, both with friends and with restaurants. Hello, London! Let us get reacquainted. I am BACK. I love the summer here and I love getting out and about and enjoying it.

This is mainly enormous fun, but it has some down sides. The occasional hangover and the need for something soothing sometimes wakes me like a siren. You know how it is, especially in London. Have a great night, miss the last tube, struggle to get home, and wake up feeling fragile, but hopefully still a little giddy from all of the fun.

I need some restorative food solutions for these situations, that I can balance out when feeling a little less frenetic later on (in the interest of feeling healthy and achieving my current aim, fitting into that favourite red vintage dress of mine). These fritters are one. This is not health food (of course not). At least not for the physical body. For the soul after a night of too much of a good time, these fritters are a rescue remedy.

The recipe is pretty flexible, but this time there was sweet and soothing fresh corn, slivers of intense yet delicate ham and the pop of a fruity tomato all nursed by a gentle batter spiked with a little chilli and eased out with some aromatic basil. If I have leftover pumpkin, I find it works brilliantly here (without the tomato) and courgette is brilliant too. If you have had a particularly big night, you might want to throw some great gooey cheese in there too.

These are deep fried, but you know, that is ok every now and then. I would suggest essential. You could shallow fry them but you wouldn’t get the great fluffy ball or texture. So, deep fry, drain well and leave on kitchen paper to get something life affirming to soothe your head. I really believe that an occasional blow out is essential, to clear out the cobwebs and put everything in perspective. So get on your dancing shoes and make sure that you have the ingredients for these for the morning after.

Enjoy!

Maple Glazed Roast Peameal Bacon

One of the many joys of travelling is discovering the hidden local food gems. Those foodstuffs that have developed there through local customs, locally grown or caught products or immigration. Everywhere has them, and Toronto has peameal bacon.

Peameal Bacon Sandwich at Carousel Bakery, Toronto

The name alone is enough for me to want to take a bite – something I haven’t eaten yet – an unexplored food joy. I find I am constantly seeking new experiences and I always find that first bite a wonder. Almost always good, sometimes – and rarely – awful. Tuna Salami I am looking at you, please don’t darken my door again!

It’s attributed to English influence – England at one point had a pork shortage and so imported bacon sides from Canada. I do wonder if we Irish had a hand in it though. Back bacon (which this is) is the favoured cut in Ireland, and it really reminds me of gammon. Toronto used to be called little Belfast too, and has a suburb which was once full of Cork people called Corktown. There is also Cabbage Town where Irish immigrants grew cabbages in their gardens to eat. I love that. Can’t my address also be in Cabbage Town?

Raw peameal bacon with it's lovely yellow coat

Peameal bacon was made by using ground yellow peas as a cure during the war years. This treatment ensured a longer shelf life and less bacterial problems. Over time corn was adapted as cornmeal became more readily available and was even less risky from a bacterial perspective

Carousel Bakery in St Lawrence Market, Toronto

What of the peameal bacon sandwich though? An essential pitstop while in Toronto is Carousel Bakery at St Lawrence Market. It is deservedly famous. Moist thick slices of peameal bacon with maple mustard in a hot bread roll is a perfect lunch. It reminded me so much of Irish bacon it whisked me right back to my childhood for a very pleasant ten minutes. Go.

St Lawrence Market, 92- 95 Front St E, Toronto, ON M5E 1C3, Canada

As I peered down at my green fingernails, I wondered if it was worth it.

Of course it was.

I love fresh broad beans and double podded (big pod and little skin removed) is the only way to go. So succulent and sweet, and with fresh peas, well, that’s summer sorted, right? Fresh peas I love too. Folk say they’re overrated and that they lose their natural sweetness a couple of hours after being picked. I love the texture and the sweetness you get with them, and there is a certain satisfaction to podding your own.

How to make it substantial? Well, braised lettuce is a perfect partner, intensified, slippery and sweet. Some shredded spring onions, and smoked ham cut into strips.

Sounds good? Well, let’s make it better by adding some perfectly boiled quails eggs. I love the precision of boiling quails eggs. Dropped into a gently boiling pan of water for exactly 2 minutes 45 seconds and cooled under running water, you will get a perfect soft quails egg every time.

This dish is healthy, tasty, looks good and takes very little time at all (podding aside). The flavours are very clean, and it’s very healthy – bacon aside. Just a little precision, and you’ll be smiling the whole way through dinner.

Braised Gem Lettuce, Broad Beans, Peas and Ham with Quails Eggs

Serves 2

Ingredients

500g fresh broad beans (in the pod)
250g fresh peas (in the pod)
2 scallions (spring onions), shredded
a couple of slices of smoked cooked ham or bacon, sliced finely
6 quails eggs
1 head baby gem lettuce, washed and seperated into leaves

Method

Double pod the broad beans by removing the outer pod, and then the little white skins from each bean. Trust me, it’s worth it. Pod the peas.

Cook the beans and peas in boiling water for a few minutes until tender and refresh under a cold tap or in ice water to stop them cooking, and to preserve that bright green colour.

Boil some water and add the eggs for 2 minutes 45 seconds exactly. Refresh under the tapo or in ice cold water to keep the yolks nice and soft (they will keep cooking otherwise). Peel when cold and half.

Fry the ham/bacon and the onions in some olive oil for a couple of minutes. If using bacon, add the onions towards the end so as not to burn them.

Add the lettuce and braise for a couple of minutes until they soften

Add the beans and peas, and when warm serve with the halved quails eggs on top.

Enjoy!

I am not much in the mind for cooking, that is new, and possibly a bit worrying. I cook so much now for others, with a full day of prep, followed by 2 days at the market, and two 16 hour days in a row at that, that I find I have little enthusiasm for cooking for myself at home. Call me jaded.

I do however, crave something really healthy. My body is battered and I feel a bit weary. I also want to hide out at home and eat here.  It has been a very challenging month. Something quick that I can make that sings of hearty full flavour, that will settle my tum, and soothe my frazzled senses. It sounds like I need a good solid soup.

But, what soup? I am not really in the mind for something complicated, I want it to be fresh and wholesome. I am thinking back to my pea & ham soup that I made for the market on Thursday, and sadly forgot to photograph! The absence of my DSLR is making a very bad blogger of me. I am so disappointed with the results from my old point and shoot, I find that I am demotivated on the photographic front, so until I replace it and get my mojo back, please forgive the crap photos.

Back to the soup, it was very good in my humble opinion, and as an Italian customer said, it had the essence of the pig. You really can’t beat a good soup at this time of year and this one  is one of my favourites, made simply with Irish ham hocks, lots of fresh veg for stock, and an abundance of peas, nestled in a gentle and translucent onion & garlic base.

But, what for now? Sadly, I have no ham hock or peas so I can’t recreate. I do have some fantastic leftover gammon, savoy cabbage, lentils and lots of vegetables. That sounds like a soup to me! It also sounds comforting and nurturing, which is just perfect for today. And a little naughty with that glint of salty ham. I don’t want to be too good after all!  I love that it’s that fabled Irish combination of bacon & cabbage, that we were all raised on, like it or lump it. I lumped it at the time, and hated the sulphurous odours emanating from the kitchen, however, I have matured into a bacon & cabbage loving lass, so bring it on.

So, this really is not posh or glamorous, but it’s good home cooked food. There’s lots of body from the lentils mingling with chunks of ham, ribbons of cabbage, and the occasional sweet carrot.  It’s frugal, it’s tasty and I’d wager that it’s healthy. I served it with some home made croutons made with seasoned day old bread fried in oil until crispy. Perfect.

Makes enough for 4. Tuck in!

Ingredients:

1 small onion, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 fresh or 2 dried bay leaves
1.5l good stock, ham if you have it, chicken otherwise
300g red lentils
300g chopped cooked gammon (can substitute bacon)
Small head of savoy cabbage (can substitute other greens), shredded

Method:

Saute the onion and carrot in olive oil over a medium heat until the onion is translucent.
Add the garlic and saute for a further 30 seconds.
Add the stock, the lentils, bay leaves and the ham. Cook for 15 minutes or so until the lentils are mushy.
Remove the bay leaves and add the cabbage.
Cook for a further 5 minutes until the cabbage is just soft but still a lovely green colour.
Season with sea salt and freshly ground pepper.
Serve immediately with good crusty bread or croutons

Me: “I can’t meet you tonight, I am off to ham school”

Friend: “Ham School?!”

Me: “Yes, ham school! I can’t wait, it’s at Brindisa in Borough Market. You know how much I love that shop.”

Friend: “I’m jealous! Ham school was always my favourite class in school too ;)”

This style of intrepid food exploring I sometimes find myself engaged in confuses and perplexes my friends. They find it highly amusing that I am so engaged with the world of food. But even the most cynical, were somewhat startled by the concept of ham school, and more tellingly they wanted to go.

What was ham school? I was invited by Brindisa to participate in their first ham class, where they would educate me about four different hams, their different origins, both porcine and geographical, the different diets, and complex disparages in flavour and quality that these produce. We were also going to be taught how to slice ham from the leg of an iberico pig, and we would get to take the ham home. Finally there would be manzanilla.

A perfect evening. Perfect in all ways but one, timing. It was on a Thursday, market day, where I am usually busy up till 9pm in Covent Garden tidying away the stall. However, I couldn’t refuse, so I advised that I may be late but that I would get there as early as I could.

I’ve long been a fan of Brindisa. When I lived in Ireland, a few years ago now, I was looking for Judion beans, those enormous Spanish butter beans, and discovered that they stocked them there. I made it my business to go there on my next trip to London, and prompty fell in love. With their chorizo, of course.

After I moved to London, I became an extremely regular visitor, particularly to their Exmouth Market shop, which was near where I worked for a number of years. They did a marvellous chickpea and chorizo stew which I have tried to emulate at home and which I had from their shop at least weekly, along with their delicious and wholesome salads, sandwiches which put most sandwiches to shame, and of course the delicious Spanish cheeses. Sometimes I would treat myself to a bottle of their delicious Albarino, usually an indicator of a bad day at work, a visiting friend, or a trip to Ireland. I worked in publishing you see, and therefore was far from rich. Sadly that shop has since closed, but there is still the shop in Borough Market. Unfortunately, rules dictate that hot food cannot be served in the shop, so there’s no stew, but there are plenty of treats to buy to bring home and indulge in. Then there is also the ham. I was about to learn a lot about that.

The shop is located under one of the railway bridges, with big gates looking on to the market on one side and the street on the other. We were gathered around a large rustic kitchen table, with a plate of ham and sherry in front of us, looking at a large map of Spain. Zac Fingal-Rock Innes, the master carver, and Alberto Ambler, the Assistant Manager, guided us through the map, telling us in fascinating detail, where the differences in taste, and sometimes quality originate for each ham. We learned about the different breeds, and each one we discussed we then tasted and described. It was fascinating, like a wine tasting, but with ham. The class was informal and passionate, the loved their subject area and it was infectious. I found myself wanting to learn more. And to eat more.

The hams were delicious. We tried four, the final (and most expensive of course) was my favourite, and at £15 per 100g, it will be a treat, and a much appreciated one. Joselito Gran Reserva Bellota from Guijuelo, Salamanca, an Ibérico pig and therefore acorn fed, cured for 3-4 years. I could talk forever about these hams, and the pigs but I see I am already approaching 700 words, so I’ll get on with it. Just this one bit, the more expensive the ham, it seems the fussier the pig. These pigs will travel huge distances to eat the right acorn. Brilliant! I love that attention to detail, and the fussiness. I respect them for that.

The hams were by now tasted  and notes taken, had some delicious manzanilla. It was time to learn how to carve the ham. I was looking forward to this, I’ve always wanted to be shown how to do it. I took my place by the ham and proceeded to cut under the guidance of Zac. It didn’t seem too bad at all. In fact, it seemed fine. I was no expert, but I was finding it relatively straightforward, how could this be? Zac asked if I had done it before as I seemed like a natural, which I definitely had not. I mentioned in jest that I had done anatomy (and therefore human dissection) in my university years, which it turns out Zac had too. So, maybe that was it? My knife skills (ack! forgive me) translated from the lab to the kitchen.

Ham sliced and packaged up, it was time to go home with a little bag of ham treats, including some fat to render and have with potatoes or similar. I had a great time and would highly recommend it. Thanks to Celia for arranging the invite and to the lovely people at Brinidisa for arranging such a wonderful evening. Lovely people, lots of knowledge, and lots of tasty ham. The classes will be running from November for £65. Given the quality of the hams, the knowledge of the staff and the uniqueness of the experience, it’s a great value evening.

Brindisa at Borough Market
The Floral Hall
Stoney Street
Borough Market
London SE1 9AF

Tel & Fax: 020 7407 1036
Email: shop@brindisa.com

I have been going through a slightly obssessive ham and pea phase of late, buying fresh peas at the market and eating them in a variety of ways from speedy dishes like peas with parma ham, spring onions, fresh garlic and lemon, to last minute soups with bacon on top. Peas and ham are perfect partners in every way, from the flavour combination of intensely savoury hamand the sweet pea, to the coarse texture of the ham contrasting with the smoothness of the pea, and the colours, green and pink dancing in your bowl, begging to be eaten.

I had seen a Heston Blumenthal recipe in the Times Online, and was keen to try it, but knew it wouldn’t be a quick affair. As much as I love what he does, I am not sure I have his dedication or stamina, at least with time being so limiting at the moment, amounting to, at most a rare evening or a weekend day. This particular recipe was from The Hinde’s Head, his gastropub, so I thought, surely, it won’t be too intense? I have also eaten there before and really enjoyed it, so I decided to give it a go.

How was it? If I had made the stock the day before it would have been very straight forward but doing it all the same day took alot of time. Especially as I started at 4pm. Was it worth it? Yes, every minute, I’d just organise it better next time. The stock was gorgeous, so savoury and I even got a secondbatch of stock from the bone, once I’d stripped the ham from it, I boiled it again with the fat that I wasn’t using, some suitable vegetables, herbs and peppercorns for a couple of hours.

The soup itself was a lovely bright green, with pancetta, ham and peas peeking through, very different to a traditional split pea and ham soup, it is much livelier, more fragrant and so very sweet. It was really substantial, bordering on a stew and would have been an ample main course.

I didn’t alter the recipe in anyway, so I’ll link to it rather than reproduce it. Enjoy!

Recipe: Pea and Ham Soup

• recipe adaped from The Hinde’s Head, by Heston Blumenthal for The Sunday Times

Ingredients

Serves 6

For the ham hock stock

2 onions, cut in half
2 carrots, coarsely chopped
2 celery sticks, coarsely chopped
1 large leek (white part only), chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 bay leaf
4-6 sprigs of thyme
4 black peppercorns
1 ham hock
2 litres water

For the soup

50g butter
200g shallots, sliced
75g pancetta, chopped
1 garlic clove, crushed
500g frozen peas, defrosted
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

To finish

2 smoked bacon rashers, cut into 1cm dice
180g frozen peas

Method

Combine all the ingredients for the stock in a large pan. Bring to the boil over a medium heat. Skim any scum that rises to the surface and reduce the heat. Allow to simmer gently for 2 hours until the ham hock is tender. Remove from the heat and leave to cool, then strain the stock. Remove the ham from the bone and leave to the side.

Now for the soup. Heat the butter in a large pan, add the shallots, pancetta and garlic. Sauté for 10-15 minutes until the shallots are soft.

Add the stock and bring to the boil. Add the peas, raise the heat again, then purée with a hand blender or similar. If the soup is too thick, add a little water until the desired consistency is achieved. Check for seasoning, it is unlikely you will need salt but you might like some pepper.

Shortly before serving, fry the diced bacon in a hot pan until crisp. Cook the remaining frozen peas in boiling salted water until tender, then drain.

To serve as Heston does: divide the peas and reserved ham between 6 soup bowls. Pour the soup over this, then scatter over the bacon and drizzle a little of the bacon fat from the pan. (YES: you must!).

Enjoy!