Ethiopian Doro Wat

I’m staying with Lowell on the Isle of Wight. We met in Addis Ababa and he’s had this crazy idea to have an Ethiopian night. I’ve brought down all the ingredients I suspect he won’t have in his local co-op. This is really, really hot. I’ve warned him about this, but he says it’s what he wants. He’s very cute and he’s hard to resist. Here we go:

Berbere Spice Mix

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp cumin

½ tsp ground coriander

½ tsp ground black pepper

½ tsp turmeric

¼ tsp ground nutmeg

Big pinch each ground cloves, cinnamon & allspice

½ tsp ground cardamom

½ tsp fenugreek seeds

2 tbsp finely chopped onion

1 tbsp finely chopped garlic

1 tbsp salt

50g paprika

2 tbsp hot chilli powder

3-5 Tbsp oil

A splash of water to loosen it up if it needs it.

4 chicken legs & 4 chicken thighs

Juice of 3 lemons

1 tsp salt

3 tbsp butter

2 onions chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

15cm ginger, grated

100g tomato puree

65ml dry wine

180ml water

1x 410g can mixed vegetables

4 hard boiled eggs, shelled.

The list of spices is long, but know it’s good and from an ancient tradition. The expertise of the mix was once taken into consideration as part of the dowry. (Are you listening, Lowell?)

Ethiopiques CD goes on, fairly loud. As soon as you get into the Addis groove, mix the Berbere ingredients into a paste. Oddly it sounds like Burberry when you say it. Let me say this again, this is very hot - 2 heaped tablespoons of chilli powder: the average Schwarz jar only contains 3 or 4! You can make it milder but we are in Addis mood now. When Mahmoud Ahmed tracks appear on the CD turn the volume up!  Put the chicken in a bowl, slash with a knife and rub with the lemon juice and salt. Allow both the lemony chicken and spice paste to rest for 20 minutes. Hold Lowell close and dance with him, hips joined, to the music. There’s nothing like Ethiopian music – it’s incredibly sexy. 20 minutes will get you through a good few tracks of wax and gold.

Cook the onions in the butter until soft, and add the ginger, garlic, Berbere and tomato paste. Cook for 5 mins. This is the point of no return. Too late to ask Lowell if he’s sure, though he says he is. Pour in the wine and water and simmer another 5 mins. Wine sounds oddly un-Ethiopian, though I’ve looked up 6 different recipes for this and they all include it. Red or white seems not to matter. Pointless to suggest a wine you’ll have with dinner as this is so spicy, you won’t be able to taste it. Save it for another day. I’m sort of sure vinegar is more authentic, but as every recipe says wine, so it must be.

My first view of Addis was through thick fog. My first view of Lowell was of a cute guy, obviously English, wearing a stripy sweatshirt and holding a Penguin Classics copy of The Tales of Hoffman. Neither the sweatshirt nor the book marked him out as cool, yet there was a certain something about him…………

Thicken the sauce for 5 mins or so and add the chicken. Cook for 15 mins. Gently stir in the halved eggs and the drained can of mixed veg (should be diced carrots, peas etc.), cook for a further 15 mins. Let it rest a few minutes.

Ideally you should serve this with Injera, the fermented Ethiopian flatbread but a) you can’t easily get Tef flour to make it with and b) I don’t like it. It’s like a sour pancake though it has the most amazing wafer thin texture. I would like to learn to love it.

Instead I’m doing it with both rice and coconut chapattis as I think a little sweetness will offset the incredible heat. We’re having beer, though while it’s not remotely Ethiopian, I’m also making a sweet mango and yoghurt Lassi: Pulp from 2 mangoes, a glass of milk, twice as much yoghurt, and sugar to taste. Get it cold in the fridge and it will cool the fire.

Lowell and I (and a gorgeous guy called Tom) bought 24 hour tourist visas and hired a taxi to drive us around late-night Addis. Amazing city. We didn’t stop to eat, but having consulted six African cook books, I’m convinced this is the real thing. I had it once at the (now extinct) Africa Centre in London’s Covent Garden. It was the hottest thing I’d ever eaten. Someone ordered loads of Injera. It did seem to mop up the heat though it’s just not for me. It’s like a tablecloth- thin, soured pancake with holes in it like a crumpet and the texture of thin latex. I’m probably not doing it justice.

 So, Doro Wat. Lowell’s insistent on this being authentic but it will make him go pink and it will probably make him cry. And I’ll find it adorable. Eat slowly.

Malawi Rock Shandy

As not everyone will be drinking alcohol on New Year’s Eve, I’m sharing a soft drink recipe. I was lucky enough to be in Malawi this Summer and we were having lunch at Chez Maky, which is just outside Blantyre town centre. One of our party ordered a Rock Shandy, and it brought memories flooding back. I haven’t had one since I was a boy. They are delicious and refreshing. There are two versions but this is the Malawi recipe.

Fill a glass with ice and pour in half ginger ale and half lemonade. Shake in a good dash of Angostura Bitters.

And that’s it – it has an intriguing flavour. It’s supposed to have originated in Zimbabwe but everyone knows it a Malawi Rock Shandy – I suppose by the same measure, French Toast probably isn’t French, nor Irish Coffee, Irish and so on.

In South Africa a Rock Shandy replaces the ginger ale with soda water so I’d be tempted to add another dash of bitters.

Torshi Lefet

One of the best things about my organic Veg box scheme is that you can register which vegetables you don’t like, so that they can bring on a sub. I have registered Kohl Rabi. The box turned up this morning and I have a load of turnips instead, so I’m making this Lebanese pink pickle, called Torshi Lefet.

500ml water

3 tbsp salt

12 small turnips

2 small beetroot

4 cloves garlic

Handful celery leaves

500ml white wine vinegar.

Put the instructional Bellydance DVD on. Put the water on to boil, with the salt poured in. Once it boils let it cool. Peel the veg and cut into small wedges. The beetroot will make everything pink so don’t wear your Diesel white T-shirt when making this. Peel and halve the garlic.

Layer the turnips in sterilised jars, adding beetroot, garlic and celery leaves as you go. Mix the vinegar and cooled brine and pour over the veg. make sure it’s all covered and jiggle things about if you spot any air pockets. This is where the bellydance DVD comes in handy.

It will be ready in two weeks and keeps for months. It’s prettily pink and the colour alone is enough to banish winter blues. You could boil the life out of your turnips and then mash them but how much more lovely would this be? Serve as part of a Meze table or with something rich – or just with drinks.

The Lebanese have a saying – Her face is whiter than the inside of a turnip. In midwinter we’re all looking pretty pasty. Think of the pretty shade of pink your guy goes when he blushes (when you’re complimenting him to his Mother for example) and compare it to the pink of these beetroot infused turnips. Surely it’s time for a new saying in honour of these pickles….

Boxing Day Ham with Watercress Salsa

Boxing Day – the Feast of St Stephen, is still a feast day. But I’ve had my fill of food roasted in goose fat, of mince pies, cake, puddings and chocolate. A ham at Christmas is still traditional, but the salsa gives it a zippy freshness that really lifts it.

1 Kg Gammon ham

1 Onion

3 Carrots

1 bulb fennel

Some parsley stalks

5 or 6 peppercorns

3 Bay leaves

Watercress Salsa

A small bunch each flat leaved parsley & mint

A decent bunch Watercress

2 cloves garlic

½  a bulb fennel

2 tbsp capers

1 tbsp Dijon mustard

2 tbsp lemon juice

Olive oil

I’m spending New Year’s Eve with Lowell (the curious straight boy). He lives on the Isle of Wight and I believe our best Watercress comes from Hampshire so this is getting me in the mood.

Choose a ham. Smoked or unsmoked is up to you – I’m going for unsmoked as I don’t want the ham fighting with this amazing sauce.Cover it with water in a deep pan with the onion (halved but unpeeled), carrots, fennel, parsley stalks, peppercorns and bay leaves. Simmer it gently for half an hour or so. I like to let it rest in the water for another half an hour or so, once it’s done.

To make the salsa, finely chop the mint, parsley, watercress, garlic and fennel – a food processor would be a good cheat but you’re looking for finely chopped rather than pureed. Drizzle some oil over to bind it. Add the capers, lemon juice and mustard and mix in. Drizzle in more olive oil until it makes a sloppy sauce. Taste it – it might need more lemon juice.

This is lovely spooned over hot or cold ham. Your boy will love it in sandwiches too. These few days after Christmas are sandwich heaven for him as the fridge is full of amazing possibilities. If you love him, have some decent bread to hand and let him knock himself out.

Spaghetti Carbonara for Christmas Eve

For years I have had this for supper on Christmas Eve. I think something relatively simple before the feasting begins is fitting, though it does get a nod towards the festive season that won’t sit well with purists. I’ve been out with a few American boys, the last being a Bostonian, who usually insist that the pasta must be spaghetti. If making this on my own, I’ll usually plump for tagliatelli instead.

Shopping takes its toll. Cooking for one day doesn’t usually seem to involve quite as much as it does at Christmas. Still, you’re happy with his Christmas present and he’s looking pretty pleased with himself so it’s time to start feeding him up. This serves 2 – not dinner party food, just for you and him. 

300g Spaghetti

2 tsp Olive oil

190g smoked Lardons

Big handful sliced chestnut mushrooms

4 tbsp Noily Prat (or white wine)

4 egg yolks

50 ml double cream

6 tbsp grated Parmesan

Black pepper & fresh nutmeg

2 heaped tbsp. butter

Finely chopped Parsley

I have a CD of German Christmas music from the 1950’s, but really, any American 1950’s music would br good. Doris Day would be ideal. At a pinch, the soundtrack to The Sound of Music. A certain amount of kitsch is required to stop you trying to turn this into something gourmet. Your boy wants feeding. He’s not fussed about garnish.

A note on the eggs - free range generally means stuck in a cramped shed, rather than stuck in a cage - which is a bit better, obviously. Please look for Organic Free Range. They don't cost that much more. The eggs in this recipe are barely cooked and need to be the best. You love your guy - do the best for him.

Put the water on to boil for the spaghetti. It should be very salty. In a large saute pan, cook the Lardons until they are crisp and golden. Don't trim the fat off - it's still feast time! Usually I don’t go for smoked, finding it too salty, but here it cuts through the creamy sauce wonderfully. Drain and reserve, and then soften the mushrooms in the same pan, adding more oil if needed. They will pick up some bacon flavour. He will no doubt wander in, smelling the bacon cooking,and in hope of nibbling the odd piece. Don’t let him – you need all of it. Resist those pleading eyes and remind him of all the good things on TV he’s missing.

Add the vermouth to the mushrooms and bubble it for a few minutes, scraping the bits from the bottom of the pan. In the unlikely event he is watching you do this, explain it is called deglazing. Put the pan aside while the pasta finishes cooking.

In a bowl beat together, the egg yolks, the parmesan, cream, pepper and some grated nutmeg. When it’s combined add the bacon.

When the pasta is done, put the mushroom/vermouth pan back on the heat and add the butter. Drain the pasta and add it to the sauté pan and toss gently. Take it off the heat and add the egg mixture. Turn the pasta into it until covered with the carbonara. Don’t put it back on the heat unless you’re curious to try spaghetti with scrambled eggs. When all is coated, plate up and sprinkle parsley on top. Enjoy with a glass or three of Chilean Chardonnay.

This is comfort food and he really won’t appreciate how special this is. Never mind. You love him, and being under-appreciated from time to time is part of how you show it.

Lamb Ragu a la Saint Rada

Work Christmas lunch at Strada today and very nice it was too. I had Pappardelle with a rich lamb ragu. This is my version. It makes loads but you  know my views on ragu by now. 1) You’ll want it again tomorrow. 2) It freezes.

2 kg shoulder of lamb, unboned weight

200ml white wine

4 tbs olive oil

3 onions, sliced

2 cloves garlic, chopped

3 celery stalks, chopped

200ml meat stock

Leaves of 2 sprigs Thyme

2 Bay Leaves

Needles of 2 rosemary sprigs

2 tins chopped tomatoes

500g Pappardelle (or any other ribbon type pasta)

Grated parmesan to serve

Cut the lamb up into small cubes – I think very small is best so that the lamp is picked up by the pasta. Take your time and just enjoy doing it. If you can multi-task, an audio book of something improving might be an idea – learning Italian perhaps! If you've got the bone, roast it. If your boy makes jokes about stuffing, wait until he gets started on the bone!

Brown the lamb in a sauté pan and then add the onions, and celery. Garlic goes in last. Tip into a casserole and pour on the wine. And in fact everything else. I think red wine will be preferable to have with the meal, but you’ve opened a bottle of white for the recipe. What’s a boy to do? “Just the one, Mrs Wembley!” Push the roasted bone down into the sauce to add depth of flavour.

A word on the Italian brands I keep mentioning – Cirio Tomatoes have been canned in Italy since 1856 and De Cecco have been making pasta since 1908. They must be doing something right so it’s worth hunting them out.

Cover and cook in a preheated oven at 200/ Gas 6 for up to 2 hours, though check after an hour and a half. Fish out the bone and the bay leaves. Their work is done.

Serve with Pappardelle pasta and a good sprinkling of Parmesan. The waiter who grated the cheese over my Christmas lunch was adorable. Dark brown eyes with an eager smile. His hair was just long enough to curl behind his ears. Molto Bello! Having someone like that would really add the finishing touch to this dish. You’ll have to improvise, otherwise.

Stuff a Duck!

Sage & Onion is lovely but I think a duck or goose needs something more festive. Sage has a medicinal musty taste – which I love, but here’s something a little more uplifting.

2 tbs Olive oil

4 shallots, chopped

4 celery sticks

2 Bramley apples

175g Pecan nuts

150g breadcrumbs

A large bunch parsley, chopped

25g Thyme, chopped

½ tsp each ground cloves and cinnamon

Zest and juice of 2 oranges

3 cloves garlic, finely chopped

110g melted butter

Salt & pepper

Even the ingredients sound like Christmas. You can make this ahead and freeze it so if you have a spare hour on a Sunday afternoon, making this would be the perfect accompaniment to Radio 4’s Classic Serial.  Assume your guy is out, finally making a start on his Christmas shopping, with just days to go, as usual. Including this as part of his Christmas dinner will impress him. He knows you do the cooking but he sort of imagines dinner just comes together by itself. This is so full of flavour though, it will stop him in his tracks.

Sweat the shallots in the oil until soft and allow them to cool. Peel, core and chop the apples (they have to be Bramleys or another sour cooking apple) and chop the celery. Warm the pecans in a dry frying pan and roughly chop. You may end up having to pick the pecans out of a selection of mixed nuts!

Mix everything in a large bowl, adding the melted butter last, and season well. Despite its name I never use this to actually stuff a bird – I think it just adds to the cooking time and doesn’t materially add to the flavour (though a halved lemon and a sprig of herbs pushed up its bottom is a generally a good idea). You can roll the mixture into balls and bake them but I prefer to press the mixture into a shallow baking tin – that way it will be crisp and crunchy on the top and moist in the middle. Dot with butter and bake at 190 for 25 mins.

Your boy often makes crude jokes about “stuffing” – this seemingly isn’t something exclusive to straight boys. He doesn’t make jokes about this just in case it jeopardises his chances of getting some more.

New York Bread & Butter Pickles for his Boxing Day Sandwich

Yes, I know I’ve given you recipes for pickles already but I’m obsessed with them and this one will be ready very quickly. Imagine it’s Boxing Day and you’re making his lunch. He’s getting a massive sandwich with cold goose, crisp streaky bacon, lettuce, thinly sliced tomatoes, some left over sage & onion stuffing, mayonnaise and some fiery chutney. It’s white bread but thickly sliced. Serve with Seabrooks crisps and some bread & butter pickles on the side. Make the pickles in advance. Ideally now.

6 Lebanese cucumbers (the short ones)

2 medium red onions

2 tbsp salt

3 cups cider vinegar

1 cup sugar

1 tsp mustard seeds

1 tsp celery seeds

½ tsp turmeric

Pinch ground cloves

You’re looking for mini cucumbers but not necessarily the curly ones. Get him to slice these into thin rounds, while you do the same with the onions. Put in a bowl and sprinkle the salt over. Leave it for 3 hours. This will draw water out so when you add the vinegar it will want to suck all that liquid back in. Even though you hate it, use the 3 hours to bond with him on the PS3. He’s been sweet. He’s still wearing the Christmas jumper his Mum bought him. It makes him look about 16 and he keeps admiring the Morocco bound Shakespeare, with gold tooling, you got him.

Drain the water off and sort of wipe the salt off with paper towels but don’t obsess over this. Layer the oinion and cucumber in sterilised jars. Add everything else to a pan and bring to the boil. The second it does, ladle it into over the cucumber and onion. Seal and keep in a dark place. Give it at least a week and keep in the fridge once open.  It won’t keep forever so don’t contemplate a sandwich without these. Seabrooks Crisps as well – Salt & Vinegar. These are from West Yorkshire and every other brand will be a weak compromise after you’ve tried them.  This is a New York recipe by the way – there’s a Connecticut version that includes green pepper & celery seeds but I suspect I’m a New York kind of guy!

So give him his bloke-sized sandwich with the crisps and a heap of well drained bread & butter pickles on the side while he’s watching Christmas Specials of his favourite comedies. Make him a mug of strong Yorkshire tea. The Christmas jumper will need to come off eventually. Help him with it and admire the long diamond of straight hair between his pecs as he pulls it over his head. This is the best gift he could give you. You know it; he kind of knows it. Happy Christmas!

Yoghurt Sauce for Christmas Pudding

There’s a limit to how much stodge I can eat at Christmas time though, to be fair, I could manage quite a bit more at this standpoint.

This is so much more refreshing than brandy butter or cream and really complements a rich Christmas pudding without being low-fat-skinny virtuous (which nobody wants at this time of year).

200g Greek Yoghurt

5tbs Skimmed Milk

Juice of ½ a lemon

Pinch Cinnamon

2tbs Honey

Mix together. That’s it. 

Hot Christmas pudding that is far too hot to eat. Cold sauce. Heaven.  The first Christmas I made this I was with a Canadian boy called Owen. We had decided to rent a house on the Suffolk coast for the holiday. It was literally across the road from the beach. Owen thought a skinny dip on New Year’s Eve would bring good luck. I loved him and was stupid. We undressed in the house and ran across the road screaming with exhilaration. Then we hit the water and it was like being lacerated with glass. I will never forget the pain of entering water that had been chilled for months by Arctic winds. Our willies shrunk to Lilliputian proportions and we limped back across the road to the house. Never again. It took literally hours to stop hurting.

Just to get the image of the shrunken willies out of your mind (I certainly want it out of mine) – another Christmas combination to distract you: If you don’t like Christmas cake (the proper stuff with marzipan and icing), have it with a decent sized piece of Wensleydale cheese. The chalkiness chimes against the richness.  You’ll find yourself looking forward to it by early November.

A Nice Slice of Rice

When I was a student I once spotted a beautiful and moody looking dark haired boy coming out of a lecture. I saw him around a couple of times but didn’t know anyone who knew him. My flatmate was doing a fast track Italian course as she’d be spending a year in Italy. So was he. I got her to invite him for dinner. I’m like that. He turned out to be called Patrick. He was cool. James Dean school of cool.

I can’t remember what I cooked as the main course, but it was Italian, and I do remember cooking rice like this because I knew he would never have seen it before. In return he introduced me to Marlboro Lights. It took years to get over him and even longer to get over the Marlboro Lights.

500g fresh or 300g frozen whole leaf spinach

250g Arborio rice

1 onion chopped

1 tbsp oil

25g butter

3 eggs

4 tbsp grated parmesan

Pepper

A decent pinch grated nutmeg

Wash the spinach and remove the stems and cook until it softens (Just defrost, if using frozen). Drain and chop fairly finely.

Boil the rice for 10 mins, until nearly done. I have a nagging doubt that I used ordinary rice – I’m not convinced Arborio was to be had in Hackney Wick in 1990. Anyway, Patrick didn’t notice and I would use the proper stuff now. Stir the spinach in with the boiling rice, briefly and then drain it.

Fry the onion in the oil until golden and mix it together with the rice and spinach in a bowl. Add the butter, cheese , eggs, pepper and nutmeg. Somehow I can’t imagine the parmesan was grated off a block (see above) but I would now. Mix well and press into a buttered cake tin. I have a feeling egg dripped out of the bottom of my cake tin until it started setting so lining the tin might be a plan.

Bake at 200 or gas 6 for about 25 mins. It should look golden. Turn it out and serve in wedges like a cake.

I really can’t remember what I served this with – something like an Osso Bucco I hope , though it definitely wasn’t that.

Patrick, like the cigarettes, wasn’t good for me. We fought all the time, he once poisoned me at his own dinner party. I loved him. He did sleep with me once. He slept with my flatmate much more than once. He was one of my best mistakes.