Syrian Lamb with Feta and Yoghurt

My brother says I make this too oily, but would it taste as Syrian if it was less so? I don't know. This is really unusual and anyone you make it for will assume you picked the recipe up while you were there. If challenged, just smile enigmatically.

1 tsp mustard seeds

1 large chopped onion
4 cloves garlic
3 tsp smoked paprika
1 ½ tsp turmeric
500g minced lamb
1 largeish glass dry white wine
250g Rigatoni pasta
100g plain yoghurt – preferably not the set kind like Greek

150g Feta cheese

Add the mustard seeds to a frying pan with a little oil, until they pop. They will start jumping out of the pan. Add the onion and crushed garlic, which for some reason stops the seeds popping. When the onion is soft add in the turmeric and paprika and cook for another couple of minutes, stirring so the spices get into all the onion. I think it goes quite a cool colour. Add the lamb and brown it. If you’re my brother, attempt to drain off excess oil without losing the lamb or onion. Not so easy huh?

Add the white wine and bubble away for around 10 more minutes. The wine should be evaporated by now. It’s job is done.

Cook  the Rigatoni – I think it would look odd using any other shape of pasta, and there’s something satisfyingly large about Rigatoni - but if needs must. Just make sure you don’t have any Syrians coming for dinner. When al dente rinse under cold water quickly to wash away  excess starch.

 Assembly time. Put the pasta in a serving bowl and toss the yoghurt through. Crumble in the Feta. All the pasta should be nice and yoghurty. (Yoghurty – what a great new word!) Add the lamb and give it another quick toss. Season and serve straight away. Even though it’s lamb I think you could get away with drinking the rest of the white wine with this. 

Grumble that it’s slightly too oily.

Volcanic Mexican Chilli Sauce

This isn’t mine – it was created by the wonderful Thomasina Miers. It’s the amazingly hot yellow sauce that comes on the table at her Wahaca restaurants. It’s extremely hot so it’s for dabbing rather than spreading or smearing. It will make you cry – whether because it’s so beautiful or so hot depends on your tolerance. 

2 Tbs oil

1 onion chopped

2 cloves garlic chopped

3 carrots diced

1 tsp ground coriander

500ml water

2 (or more) Scotch bonnet chillies (choosing yellow ones would be good here)

200ml white wine vinegar

1 heaped tsp honey

1 tsp salt

½ tsp dried oregano 

Sweat the onions and carrot for a bit. Add the garlic and coriander. Pretty easy so far! Add the water when the onion is translucent. I’ve tried scaling this recipe up and always get the amount of water wrong so am sticking to making this one jar at a time for now. 

We haven’t talked about music for cooking to yet – I think something like a Requiem. I know Wagner will click with me eventually, and that might be perfect in time. But for now, a requiem: Faure, Mozart, Brahms, Verdi – up to you. Listening at high volumes will help this no end.

Carrots are tough old things so when they are soft, it’s cooked. Add the rest of the ingredients. Blend. If it’s not as thick as ketchup or mayonnaise, reduce in the pan.

Bottle it up in a sterilised jar – don’t keep for too long – this one has some kick and won’t appreciate mellowing with age. Unusually this recipe hasn’t mentioned boys as recipients – it’s a secret and personal pleasure. If you do meet a chilli-head this will intrigue him. It’s hot but has a certain depth he won’t get to the bottom of. Same as you hope he’ll think of you really.

Ragu Bolognese

1 large onion chopped

1 carrot diced

1 stick of celery diced

6 cloves garlic chopped not crushed

1 teaspoon each dried oregano/thyme

1 teaspoon dried chilli flakes

2 or 3 dried Bay leaves

Red wine that you’re happy to drink with the meal

1 can quality whole tomatoes

1 carton passata (about 500 ml) – or a can of cheap chopped tomatoes

Up to ½ a tube tomato puree

400g minced beef

150g minced pork

Parmesan

Salt & pepper

Olive oil

A good brand of Spaghetti

Optional: Mushrooms, Parsley

Think about a side salad: Watercress, tomatoes, radishes & strong vinaigrette 

Put some Italian music on. I think opera if you’re feeling epic, or something more baroque if you’re feeling inspired and poetic. I find The Barber of Seville usually does the trick. Don’t be exact with the ingredients – make it your own. A teaspoon varies from a pinch to a tablespoon, depending on my mood. If the minced pork only comes in a 250g pack –good! This makes loads but it’s worth it and it freezes. It’s a generous dish to lavish love on and not designed for frugal portions. 

Chop up all the vegetables first –it will get stressful otherwise and the ragu will know it and play up. For a rich sauce it needs to be gentleness all the way. 

Get a massive pan. Sweat the onion in olive oil until translucent. Don’t let it brown. If you have the carrot & celery, cook at the same time to make a classic soffritto, but the sauce is worth making even if you only have the onion. Stir in the oregano with the vegetables so it aromatises. I add thyme too if I can find it amongst the jars and bottles. Often I can’t. Unusually, dried is better than fresh with these herbs. If you happen to have any mushrooms lying around chop them and chuck them in. Add the chilli flakes. With the volume of other ingredients this doesn’t really add heat but more of a background depth. Leave the chilli out if it doesn’t like you. 

When the soffritto is about done, add the chopped garlic. Don’t put it in earlier as it will overcook and go bitter. You could add less garlic, but hey! Fry for about a minute. Your kitchen should now smell like you’re cooking something special – which you are. This would be the perfect time to shrug your shoulders, wave wooden spoons in the air and say “Hurdy gurdy” like the Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show. I think you should allow time to do this – it’s quite rewarding. 

Add the meat. Unless your pan is huge you won’t be able to brown it properly but have a go. Add some wine. I think a big glassful would do, but assuming you’re drinking the wine with the meal, you must decide how much you can sacrifice. Bring to the boil for a couple of minutes to burn the alcohol off and then switch the heat off and rest it all for at least half an hour. My theory is that this tenderises the meat but it probably does no such thing. 

After resting, bring the heat back up. Add the tin of tomatoes. I always use Cirio brand as I think they are the best. I use whole not chopped as I believe that gives a better overall texture when broken up with a spoon, but you can use chopped if you prefer otherwise. Half fill the empty tin with water, swirl it around and add to the pan so you get all the tomato juice out of the tin. I’m told all Italians do this with tinned tomatoes and like to think of hot Italian boys, dutifully swirling their tins, as I’m doing it.  

Add the carton of passata or another can of cheap chopped tomatoes (I use supermarket value ones, if going down this route, as you’re looking for juice not quality – hot Italian boys, look away now!). It will look a bit watery but as it will cook for a while it thickens up. Squirt in the tomato puree. This is one of your thickeners as well as adding flavour. You’ll just have to judge how much you need. The sauce should be looking slightly more red than brown by now. Add the bay leaves and a really massive pinch of rock salt & black pepper. 

Once it starts to bubble, bring the heat right down and then part cover the pan so it barely blips. Read something brilliant as you need distraction for an hour or so, though give it a stir from time to time. Attitude magazine will do if you can’t settle upon a Penguin Classic.

While you’re checking it - add more liquid in the unlikely event that it needs it. Add a bit more tomato puree just for the sake of it - that way you feel like you’re still in charge. You could pressure cook it, but this is about love not convenience really. I also think a slow cooker brings out the taste of the meat more than the tomato which gets the balance wrong. So a big saucepan it has to be. Generations of Sicilian grandmothers can’t be wrong! Bless their hunky Sicilian grandsons! 

If you’re lucky enough to be making this on an autumn afternoon switch it off and let it rest until dinner time. The meat (not to mention your loved one) will thank you for the second rest. Carry on reading or daydream about the Sicilian grandsons wandering around in tight undies. 

When ready to serve, put the spaghetti on to boil in plenty of salty water – another big pan needed!. You’ve come this far so use a good brand of spaghetti – I like De Cecco. Please don’t overcook it – give it the bite test regularly – you’ve too much to lose by getting this bit wrong! It is boiling hot and so will continue to cook for a minute even after you’ve drained it. If it takes much more than 10 minutes, start worrying. Incidentally I usually prefer linguine – but who ever heard of linguine Bolognese ?!

Whilst you’re getting your pasta water on to boil, start reheating your ragu and let it bubble fiercely this time. Allow it to get ever so slightly too thick. Before draining your spaghetti add a few tablespoons of the cooking water to the sauce. The salty water contains starch from the pasta that will add silkiness to the sauce. Pick out the bay leaves unless watching your loved one suck them clean is a particular turn-on. 

Drain the pasta and toss with olive oil. If you’re feeling lavish, mix in some very finely chopped parsley (flat leaved, ideally) with the spaghetti. I very rarely do it as it isn’t necessary, but sometimes you love somebody so much…...)

Serve the spaghetti with the ragu and some grated parmesan. Grate it at the table – you’ll look stylish or at worst you’ll look like a waiter.

Sometimes it’s nice to serve it with a small green side salad, but if you’ve made this right you’ll end up ignoring the salad. Don’t forget the wine and some Mozart while you’re eating it. Cosi Fan Tutti would be perfect. Whatever you do, don’t wear a white shirt!

 PS: If you do decide on a side salad it needs to be able to compete for attention. But it should also be simple. I’d do watercress with sliced tomato and very finely sliced radish. Dress with a vinaigrette that has a sharper vinegar to oil ratio than you’d usually go for as it needs to cut through the richness of the main course.

 PPS: You have no idea how much better this will taste tomorrow – which is why we have made this much! If you’ve done it right, he will want it again tomorrow.

NYOM!

Linguine e Gambarini

 I’ve been watching the TV series Pan Am. This dish is for Captain Dean, the luscious blond one. He’s rich, masculine and hot. So is this.

Raw tiger prawns – how many and how big depends upon your wallet

The best extra virgin olive oil you can afford (see above)

3-4 fat juicy cloves garlic

2 chillies

Bunch flat leaf parsley
Linguine

The ingredients are simple so don’t stint on them. Captain Dean has travelled all over the world and eaten in the finest restaurants. He probably hasn’t tried this dish though, as it’s actually a conflation of two recipes. Choose a really grassy extra virgin olive oil. It should look more green than yellow as it pours. I find Greek olive oil has more flavour than Italian, but that may be years of living in Wood Green. Anyway the oil is part of the flavour here so bear it in mind.

Prep first as any Pan Am stewardess knows. Think of this as your pre-take-off checks. Chop the garlic. Sprinkle on salt and carry on chopping, crushing it down with the side of the knife from time to time. The salt acts like grit, crushing the garlic but also absorbing its oils so you don’t lose any flavour.

Music suggestion: not Vivaldi – perhaps something Italian-American. Sinatra, or Dean Martin maybe. Something that reminds you it’s a Man’s World might mean you end up being less disappointed if he doesn’t stay the night.

Chop the chillies. Choose how strong you like them. You could choose mild ones that will warm Captain Dean in an interesting way or hot ones that will make his eyes water. It all depends on who you want to be in control in the grand scheme of things. Chop finely – you’re looking for flecks in the final dish. Colour doesn’t really matter but I think red chilli stands out against the parsley nicely. Chop the parsley finely. Curly parsley would be okay but – just don’t.  

Boil up water in a big pan and add a decent amount of salt. When boiling, add the Linguine. I’m a fan of the De Cecco brand. Cook until al dente. Stir with a fork from time to time. If any sticks to the pan, it will be your fault! Captain Dean will never marry a slattern in the kitchen! (Like he’s going to marry anyone! Hahahahaha) 

If your prawns need peeling – well done you in the shopping stakes!! Snap off the head, pull off the tail and peel the shell from the body. If a dark line runs along the body remove it (you don’t want to know what it’s for). Slowly heat a decent glug of olive oil in a sauté pan and gently cook the garlic and chillies. Think of warming it rather than cooking it. Add the prawns after a minute or so. The key is not to overcook. The prawns don’t want to be rubbery and the garlic still needs a bit of slightly raw bite. You’re both eating it so it won’t be embarrassing if Captain Dean does kiss you. 

Drain the pasta and put it back in the saucepan. Tip the garlic, chillies and prawns in, adding all the oil from the pan. Add another glug if it needs it. Stir in the finely chopped parsley. Toss well. It’s done. Serve straight onto your plates rather than a serving dish – you seem to lose some of the coating every time you decant it. Giving Captain Dean a big plate to tuck into, rather than formal table service will make him feel at home anyway. It will invite him to tuck in and not stand on ceremony. When he’s relaxed, he just has that smile….. Feel free to melt and/or gush. It’s what he’s used to anyway. 

Serve with a bottle of lightly chilled Soave. This is quite drinkable but inexpensive as Captain Dean will want to save some money for all his other lovers around the world. Make the most of your moment in the sun. Allow your hand to rest on his inner thigh. Smell his hair when he kisses you goodbye. You’re going to be living on this for a while. Make this right – ideally effortlessly, and chatting to him while he’s having his first Scotch. Wherever he spends the night, at some point he will be thinking of you – that’s small consolation though and crying into your pillow is allowed.

Pea and Ham Soup

He’s got a northern accent, and a flat hairy belly. He’s cocky and he knows what he likes. This is what he likes

2 boxes of Bachelor’s Dried Marrowfat Peas

A 6oog – 750g Ham

5 Cloves

Many litres of water

An Onion

A carrot

A celery stick

6 pepper corns

Chips for frying

Malt Vinegar

4 or 5 Bay Leaves

Fresh Thyme

2 days 

Don’t fuss too much about the size of the ham. These days it will be depressingly vacuum packed in thick plastic or in a strange hairnet type thing. Go for the one with the least amount of netting – sometimes it’s the only thing holding the ham in one piece. Soak it for a couple of hours, It probably doesn’t need it but it’s traditional and you’re in northern territory now. His name’s Matthew by the way. His Mum calls him that – he’s Matt to everyone else. He has a tattoo which you don’t approve of but it’s in a spot you feel privileged to have seen. It makes this dish worth it. 

Simmer the ham in fresh water with the onion, celery, carrot, cloves, 3 bay leaves and peppercorns. Add a whole branch of thyme if you’re feeling soppy. Don’t chop stuff up, quarter it as you’re going to fish it out later. Don’t be tempted by Christmassy thoughts and add Allspice or the like. Matt won’t say anything but there’ll be a look in his eyes that you won’t forget. 

When the ham is cooked (half hour max), peel off the rind and strain the stock. The rind goes in the bin; the ham goes in the fridge. Smack his hands if he tries to use the ham for sandwiches. 

Dried peas go in a big bowl with half the ham stock – top up with water and add another bay leaf or two. This needs over night to rehydrate. You have to decide how to keep Matt entertained. Coronation Street is only half an hour long. 

Note on the peas – these are dried Marrowfat peas not petit pois, not garden peas and not frozen Birdseye. They come in a depressingly small box which is why you need two of them. They also come with a thick tablet of bicarbonate of soda which helps them rehydrate but we are soaking these with stock and I don’t want to spoil the flavour. I save them for another use and then never find another use for them. Eventually I throw them away. 

Next day boil up the peas, adding in the other half of the stock and more water. Let it go mushy but remember it’s a soup. How thick you let it get depends on Matt’s preference .It’s really hard to tell how long this will take – depends on loads of things – how old the peas are, how long they soaked, hardness of the water, temperature of the kitchen. The box suggests 20 minutes – I bank on an hour.  Just keep it going until the peas are really soft and starting to lose structure. Add water as you need it. Ruffle Matt’s hair from time to time so he knows that he and not the cooking is centre of attention.

When the peas are finally fucking done, break up the ham – it should tear easily by hand, and add it to the pan. Acknowledge he’s a bloke by allowing a few really big bits. Heat it all through on a low heat. Serve in big bowls - Absolutely no garnish!

Somewhere along the line fry up the chips (frozen frying chips are great – oven chips are decidedly not!) and sprinkle with salt and loads of vinegar. Make Matt feel at home. It’s likely he will want to put vinegar on the pea soup as well, but that’s him. Note we’re not talking rock salt and we’re not talking organic cider vinegar!

Soup and chips is a bit of a one off but so is Matt! His Mum would serve it with bread and butter but you want him to love you. Let him have it on a tray in front of the TV and you might just keep him for life.

NYOM!