Hot Greek Salad

I remember arriving in Greece late, delayed, frustrated and very, very tired, just wanting a bed and wondering if the place we were renting was in reality any good. We were given a very late supper, a rich wedge of Moussaka contrasting with the combined salad of sweet tomatoes, crunchy cucumber and saline tang of freshly brined olives, plus the creamiest feta cheese I had ever eaten, just enough to line the stomach without feeling heavy, before being shown our apartment.

The next morning I woke to draw back the shutters to the most stunning view of sloping landscapes and crystal waters, an Enchanted April moment that sucks in the breath, a Byronesque love of Greece (Ionian Islands in particular, but maybe that was to do with the Cephalonian wines) began and hasn’t really stopped.

Why am I saying this? Well for no good reason other than this Easter has coincided with the Greek Orthodox one and I felt inspired. Given the weather running up to it has been gloriously sunny and blossom filled in a true Romantic manner that Byron himself would have been proud of, I shopped for the traditional Eastertide lamb and also the components of a Greek Salad to go with it (as an aside, did you know that Greek Salad is really called Country Salad? Choriatikisalata? 

Out comes my Kostas Kalafatis album to play while I prepare the meal. And then it happened. England. Bank Holiday weather. All the fantasy of sun worshipping, Greek Island hopping joy was washed away like some chalk picture by Dick Van Dyke. So I had to revert to plan B (not the CD). Plan B is a warmer version.

Lamb and Hot Greek Salad

1 half shoulder of Lamb boned

1 bunch of oregano, parsley, thyme and tarragon (a good combination of herbs)
150g Feta cheese
1 egg yolk
100g Olives pitted
4 Plum Tomatoes
1 Courgette
2 cloves Garlic
White wine
A ‘mouse paw’ of tomato puree

Oven to 180C (375F, Gas 5)

Stage 1:

Chop the herbs and mix with the feta and egg yolk to create a creamy paste, saving some for garnish. Spread the mix on the inside of the lamb and then roll and tie up into a parcel with string, skin up. (I found that my cheese leaked a lot so you could wrap it in foil for ¾ of the cooking time and open the top to brown skin for the remaining time). Once cooked, remove it and let it rest for a few minutes in a warm place.   

Stage 2:

Fine dice the courgette, scooping out the seeds with a teaspoon first, and the olives. Boil some water in a pan, put the tomatoes in, count to 20 and then lift them out. Skin them (if the skin doesn’t come away, dip back into the water for a few seconds and try again) deseed them and then finely dice them. Puree the garlic. 

Stage 3:

Season the courgette, fry in a pan with some oil and then set aside. Fry the tomatoes and the olives in another pan, heating thoroughly, add the garlic. Stir in a mouse paw of tomato puree (this is the tiniest squeeze of puree but just enough to help the tomatoes and the sauce get some colour) and a good glug of white wine. Bring to the boil and let it reduce a little. Once the lamb is ready to carve reheat and add the courgettes (they are done separately so as not to colour).

Carve the lamb into slices trying to keep the cheese with it. Put the tomato mix on the side, or over the meat, or over some new potatoes that have been lightly crushed (skin on).

“There once was a woman from Smyrna

Who ran a cracking taverna...” (that was Byron, right?)

Kristos Anesti!

Quick Tarragon Chicken

Parisian life can be almost summed up in one dish: Poulet à l’Estragon. I say almost because there are a great many dishes that sum up bistro cuisine. However, this is one that lends itself to a rose tinted vision of gingham table cloths, penguin uniformed waiters and a crisp Loire valley wine in a carafe. Light as air fluffy rice surrounds a suprême that is coated with a creamy (but not cream based) sauce that has the subtlest aniseed perfume to it. Strangely, I never cooked this whilst living my Left Bank life and only did it on return to London, adapting the recipe each time, but I have been making it since I first tasted it.

Reality however, isn’t the same as the fantasy. The bistro where I first tried this dish, was traditional and typically Parisian (you could tell from the surrounding American accents), had surly staff who would slam the plate down onto paper table cloths, caraffed wine by the colour, and constant clatter, chatter and smoke (yes, in those days you could). The chicken sauce was heavy thanks to the UHT fetish that the French seem to have, the rice grains clung to each other for dear life and the herb was dry and soulless. 

A classic dish such as this should be treated with some respect, but if you have a busy executive life then this can also be done in a slightly less respectful but equally delicious way. The alternatives are as follows: a whole roasted chicken (you can get on with other things whilst it is cooking) and then remove the breast fillets before serving (I use the legs for a salad the next day and the bones for stock); a breast fillet per guest, rubbed in oil, seasoned and individually wrapped in foil, placed in the oven for about 18minutes (use the juice in the sauce); or, breast fillets hammered flat between two sheets of greaseproof paper,  griddled  (if you are using the breast fillets only then the order is rice, sauce, chicken and the brandy flambé is not necessary).

I serve this with rice mixed with fine chopped and sweated onions.

Quick Tarragon Chicken

1 Chicken or 2 breast fillets

200ml chicken stock
200ml white wine
1 ladle of brandy
40g Tarragon (chopped but not too early as it blackens)
1 egg yolk
2Tbsp crème fraîche
Lemon juice to taste
1 onion
200g long grain rice

Oven on to 190C (375F, Gas 5)

The bird:

Remove the wings and the knuckle of the legs from the chicken. Rub the chicken with oil and salt the skin well.  Place on a trivet in a roasting tin breast side down for ¾ of the roasting time (I work to 17 minutes per pound) before turning upwards to brown the skin. This ensures the breast fillets stay moist.

The rice:

Fine chop some onion and sweat in butter and oil on a low heat until translucent. Meanwhile boil the rice. Once cooked, mix the rice and onion together and add a knob or two of butter. Cover in foil and place in a warming oven until you are ready to serve.

The sauce:

Once cooked take the chicken from the trivet and put on the bottom of the roasting tin and pour over the brandy, flambé (watch the hair/eyebrows). Once the flames have died down, remove the chicken to a warm place to rest. Deglaze the pan with the wine getting all the ‘toffee’ and flavours from the bottom then transfer the liquid to a pan. Add the stock and start to simmer.

Mix the egg and the cream together. Slake with some of the stock and wine mix, stirring constantly, and then pour it into the pan whisking all the time. The yolk is a thickening agent and should turn the cream sauce into the consistency of cream. This may take some time so don’t panic (you can tell when it begins by the coating on the base of the pan). Once it has reached the right thickness remove from the heat, taste, season adding a small squeeze of lemon juice, and stir in the chopped tarragon.

On hot plates, either spread the rice out or put it into a lightly greased container to create a mould and turn it out onto the plate off centre. Take the chicken, remove the skin from the breast fillets and cut into 3 or 5 pieces to arrange on the plate. Pour the sauce over the plate and if you have a little tarragon left over garnish with a sprig.

Serve with a surly attitude and some cheap wine and you could almost be there. 

 

Pigs Cheek Spanish Style with Chorizo and Beans in 3 stages

I remember a couple of business men in Seville sharing a bottle of sherry with their meal, a Fino, a strong, immensely mouth puckeringly dry wine, and finishing the meal with a rich creamy pudding washed down with a bottle of Cava. How they got up after the meal I don’t know. How I managed to imitate them thinking this was de rigueur was another thing altogether. I should have known better. By the time I left the restaurant Holy Week was in full swing and the streets were almost impassable. The staring eyes of the Madonna and the silent, frankly terrifying procession of the Penitentes left me with hair raised in places I had never even dreamed of. If you were there in ’93 it was me who screamed out “I believe!!” at that particular drunken moment.

Following up on last night’s duck recipe, I am doing pork. Feeling may be a bit unsettled about not doing lamb on a religious holiday (ritual is innate isn’t it - innate innit?) but a pig cheek dish brings a moment’s hesitation, although pouring a glass of guilt soaked sherry into a Spanish style stew and another down my throat seems to ease the catholic burden.

Pork Cheek with chorizo and beans in 3 stages

Oven on 130C (250F gas 1)

Stage 1:

Chop an onion, carrot and celery stick into rough dice. Crush and puree 2-3 garlic cloves with some salt and the back of a knife. Chop 125g chorizo into chunks. Mix equal amounts of stock and wine (I have gone for a 400g tub of chicken stock and some cooking wine) with 1tbspn of tomato puree and some paprika.

Stage 2:

Heat some oil in a frying pan, season and sauté the pigs’ cheeks (about 3 per person) in stages to avoid crowding the pan and turning the meat grey. Set aside in a casserole and fry the carrots first, then the onion and celery (sweating only not browning). At the last minute, add the garlic. Stir through and add to the casserole. Finally, fry the chorizo to take a little of the rawness out. Throw it into the casserole. Deglaze the pan with a good splash of sherry, Amontillado dry best, and a splash of sherry vinegar getting any of the meat and vegetable flavours into the casserole. Pour in the stock with the wine, the tomato puree and the paprika. (An alternative to this can be to add sherry vinegar to help break down the meat fibres and a couple of orange strips (white removed) to give it a slightly more citrus and sharper taste). Stir gently and put the lid on. Place into the oven and walk away for 3 hours.

Stage 3:

When the stew is done, sieve the sauce into a pan and remove the chorizo and cheeks back to the casserole (a bit fiddly-ouchy-hot but the vegetables are no longer necessary and it looks prettier, trust me!) Add some sliced red peppers (I have a jar of Piquillo Peppers) and a tin of butter beans. Gently stir and put back into the oven to keep warm while the sauce is reducing. Once the sauce has reduced by two thirds and is creamier in consistency, place the meats, peppers and beans into the sauce pan to ensure they are heated through. (Alternative: heat 3 cans of butter beans in a pan. Once heated through, throw them into a blender and puree them with a glug of olive oil until mash. Use this as your base to sit the meat, chorizo and peppers on then drizzle the sauce over and around the food. This would technically be a fourth stage).

Finally garnish with finely chopped parsley, bottle of sherry to side (coughs innocently!)

 

Spicy Duck and Coconut Rice in 3 stages

Spiced Duck and Coconut Rice is something that I put together for a friend of mine “F”, who works in publishing. She loved the spicy creamy combination against the meat, although, to be honest I was walking around for about ten minutes with chilli-burn tongue looking like one of the characters from the Banana Splits (do you remember them? Anybody?) Admittedly, she didn't love it enough to get me that dream book contract. Also admittedly, the wine that went with it was enough to anaesthetise us both slowly but surely so that the next morning Alka Seltzer was the breakfast of choice. 

However, it is a comforting dish as the rich creaminess of the rice is such that the spicy sauce cuts through the coconut but doesn’t take away that woolly warm blanket just eaten feeling that you get from a favourite (or relatively new but enjoyable) dish.
 
This can either be bowl-in-front-of-the-television type meal with cuddly toy like slippers, or big-plate-formal-I-need-to-seduce/charm/get a job-with-swirly-sauce-fandango type meal.
 
Oven on 200C (400F, gas 4).

Stage 1:
Prepare the rice. Rinse it, put into a pan with  a good pinch of salt, the tin of coconut, equal amount of stock (chicken or vegetable, or even duck if you have it!) some lime leaves, pepper corns and slowly simmer until done. Drain and set aside in a warm place.
 
Stage 2:
Put a frying pan on the hob and heat. Meanwhile, slash the skin of the duck breast fillet in an artful crisscross (rather than in the way Michael Caine does to Angie Dickinson in that horrid film that left me terrified of car park lifts and also, strangely transvestites for some time, but I digress). Season and place face down on the frying pan letting it sizzle. When it is browned and crispy, turn each breast over and brown, then remove to a baking tray and slam in the oven for 8 minutes. Breathe! The rest is easy.

Stage 3:
Put equal amounts of wine and stock 250ml should do it, 4 Star Anise and 1 cinnamon stick, 1/4-1/2 tspn of chilli flakes and finally 1 tbspn of honey into a pan. Now, boil like your life depends on it, reducing it to a cream like consistency. If you have gas this should reduce quickly, sadly if you are like me and have an electric hob (or God forbid, the hot plate of an Aga/Rayburn) then this may take a little longer but your meat has to rest after cooking so if the pan is ready to go on then just start it earlier and reheat it loosening up the sauce with the juices from the duck (I didn’t say this was going to be healthy did I?!) or use the frying pan the duck was in, that way the surface area is wider and the liquid will evaporate more quickly (that’s science! Or so they tell me).

The meat should be cooked as the sauce is reducing so let it stand in a warm place for a few minutes, bring out the bowls or plates (I hope you warmed them. If not then quickly run them under the hot tap and dry and shame on you for your bad habits!) Ensure the bits are out of the rice.
 

Now with a large or extra large ice cream scoop if you are using a bowl because a good film is on, place an orb (can I call it that?) of the rice at the bottom, slice the breast into odd numbers and arrange around the rice then drizzle some of the sauce over it.

 

If you are entertaining or showing off, then a timbale lightly oiled then tightly packed with the rice works to get a nice moulded shape. Again, slice the duck and arrange around or nearby to the rice then with a desert spoon make swirly concentric circles of the sauce or zigzags, or even your initials (a squeezy bottle filled with the sauce works well, but watching your fingers with the heat. If you have a bottle to do this, you can make the sauce before the rice and duck and hold it in the bottle in a pan of hot water to keep it warm but not cooking). Chopped parsley for garnish? You can if you like.

Plate. Eat. Love... There could be a book in that!