I notice that Nigella Lawson did a Spanish style dish last night. The finished product didn't look too Spanish to me in its presentation, but I do agree that chicken and chorizo go together very well. And she nearly pronounced chorizo correctly - opting not to go for the Italian style pronunciation favoured by most TV chefs.
But today's topic is cheese and I will try and stick to the subject. With regard to Spanish cheeses available in the UK, there can be little doubt that manchego is pre-eminent. Manchego ranges from mild to quite fierce. The herringbone pattern on the rind is a memory of the days when the maturing cheeses were wrapped in esparto grass.
On a trip to Asturias a few years ago, Cheryl and I tried a cheese called Afuega'l Pitu - fire in the throat in the Asturian dialect. If ever a cheese was aptly named it was this one. It was served up as part of a cheeseboard of hugely varied tastes, strengths and textures. Galicia has the famous tetilla cheese and Menorca has some pretty good artesan cheeses. Milder cheeses made from goats' milk are pretty ubiquitous throughout Spain. My favourite cheese though, is the torta de La Serena, a ewes' milk cheese from the steppe country of La Serena in Badajoz province. I brought two of these home from a trip to Spain last year. I kept them in the freezer for three months until my 50th birthday in June. A couple of days before the party I took them out of the freezer to allow them to come up to room temperature. Once at room temperature this cheese can be poured like honey - although the best way to serve it is to cut the top off and dig in with bread or crackers. It wasn't my intention to focus on the produce of Extremadura, but the time I spent living there has obviously had a big effect on me. Tomorrow I will have a look at the food of Andalucia and some of the islands.
tortilla
my attempt at the perfect tortilla
Friday, 29 October 2010
Thursday, 28 October 2010
meat
Meat is the theme for today's blog. Whilst not wishing to deny the existence of good meat in the UK; it still remains the case that the meat commonly available in Spain is a bit better than its counterpart in this country. This is particularly true when it comes to pork. Supermarket pork in this country is virtually tasteless, unless you go for the high end stuff with all its provenance, the name of the farmer's wife and the exact climatological details of the microclimate in which the meat was reared.
I suspect that part of the problem is our attitude to fat. The movement towards a healthier diet has, in effect, only served to demonise fats and sugars. In Spain, however, and without trying to attribute the status of a dietary Shangri-La to my former stamping ground, the picture is totally different. People recognise that fat both lubricates the meat as it is cooking, and also makes the meat generally tastier. I would never order a pork steak in a restaurant in the UK, because you can pretty much guarantee in advance, that the meat will be both dry and tough. This is because lean meat is the undisputed king. People like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall might advocate the benefits of a sensible proportion of fat on your meat and in your wider diet as a whole, but I fear that one man is unlikely to change the opinion of all but the most committed foodies.
The Spanish even have a type of fat that lowers both blood pressure and cholesterol. Granted this fat is only present in one very specific product - jamon iberico de bellota. And this is not speculation. This counter-intuitive fact comes from a properly conducted scientific trial. The lucky guinea pigs were a group of nuns in a closed order, in a convent in Badajoz in the 90's. The documentary evidence is on the internet for those who care to chase it up, but what it boils down to, is that the old aphorism "You are what you eat." applies to pigs too. This is because acorns are made up of a very high percentage of oleic acid - the same substance that makes olive oil a healthy substance. The oleic acid ends up in the fat of the pigs and hence the health benefits. The Spanish term jamon iberico de bellota, by the way, refers to ham from the slate-grey Iberian pigs, which have been fed (almost) exclusively on acorns for the last 3 - 4 months of their lives. The same pigs were once reputed to derive some of their flavour from the fact that vipers were an important constituent part of their diet. It makes a nice story, but I doubt there was ever that much in it.
With regard to beef, there can be no doubt that the meat from an Aberdeen Angus, which has been properly hung for the requisite period of time, is a real treat. But walk into an average restaurant, order an average steak and your experience will generally be better in Spain.
This is not just an attack on the current state of affairs in the UK - we have a great butcher near us, and the northern supermarket, Booth's has a great attitude towards provenance and supporting local producers.
There is a meat however that we don't tend to make use of in this country, and that is goat. Goat, or kid more usually, (cabrito in Spanish) is an absolute revelation - like the best lamb you ever had, only more so. One of my most cherished memories of our time in Extremadura was the day we were invited to a goat roast put on by a gastronomic society. The beast in question was slowly roasted over a pit of glowing charcoals. A home made rotissary grill had been knocked up out of cannibalised bicycle parts hooked up to a power supply. The meat was absolutely wonderful and the pinnacle of the occasion was when I was offered a roasted goat's testicle - perhaps in the hope that it might be too much for a squeamish Englishman - the taste of which lives on in my memory to this day.
I suspect that part of the problem is our attitude to fat. The movement towards a healthier diet has, in effect, only served to demonise fats and sugars. In Spain, however, and without trying to attribute the status of a dietary Shangri-La to my former stamping ground, the picture is totally different. People recognise that fat both lubricates the meat as it is cooking, and also makes the meat generally tastier. I would never order a pork steak in a restaurant in the UK, because you can pretty much guarantee in advance, that the meat will be both dry and tough. This is because lean meat is the undisputed king. People like Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall might advocate the benefits of a sensible proportion of fat on your meat and in your wider diet as a whole, but I fear that one man is unlikely to change the opinion of all but the most committed foodies.
The Spanish even have a type of fat that lowers both blood pressure and cholesterol. Granted this fat is only present in one very specific product - jamon iberico de bellota. And this is not speculation. This counter-intuitive fact comes from a properly conducted scientific trial. The lucky guinea pigs were a group of nuns in a closed order, in a convent in Badajoz in the 90's. The documentary evidence is on the internet for those who care to chase it up, but what it boils down to, is that the old aphorism "You are what you eat." applies to pigs too. This is because acorns are made up of a very high percentage of oleic acid - the same substance that makes olive oil a healthy substance. The oleic acid ends up in the fat of the pigs and hence the health benefits. The Spanish term jamon iberico de bellota, by the way, refers to ham from the slate-grey Iberian pigs, which have been fed (almost) exclusively on acorns for the last 3 - 4 months of their lives. The same pigs were once reputed to derive some of their flavour from the fact that vipers were an important constituent part of their diet. It makes a nice story, but I doubt there was ever that much in it.
With regard to beef, there can be no doubt that the meat from an Aberdeen Angus, which has been properly hung for the requisite period of time, is a real treat. But walk into an average restaurant, order an average steak and your experience will generally be better in Spain.
This is not just an attack on the current state of affairs in the UK - we have a great butcher near us, and the northern supermarket, Booth's has a great attitude towards provenance and supporting local producers.
There is a meat however that we don't tend to make use of in this country, and that is goat. Goat, or kid more usually, (cabrito in Spanish) is an absolute revelation - like the best lamb you ever had, only more so. One of my most cherished memories of our time in Extremadura was the day we were invited to a goat roast put on by a gastronomic society. The beast in question was slowly roasted over a pit of glowing charcoals. A home made rotissary grill had been knocked up out of cannibalised bicycle parts hooked up to a power supply. The meat was absolutely wonderful and the pinnacle of the occasion was when I was offered a roasted goat's testicle - perhaps in the hope that it might be too much for a squeamish Englishman - the taste of which lives on in my memory to this day.
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
fish
Today's blog is all about fish - not so much any particular recipe - but rather an attitude towards cooking fish. Here in the UK we seem to be very wary about cooking fish. As an island race we once lived surrounded by seas rich in fish. Today those fish stocks are much reduced, but our attitude towards cooking fish must surely have been forged at a time when haddock and herring were plentiful.
Fish is really easy to cook, once the flesh has reached a uniform temperature of 60 odd degrees (look it up for yourselves - I am too lazy) then the fish is cooked. So poaching or steaming most fish for 5 minutes or so should be enough. Deep frying can be achieved in a short time - a couple of minutes or so for smallish chunks of fish. Shallow frying can take a little longer, but not much. Grilling is all about using your eyes or a timer if not confident about the evidence of your eyes. Disaster is difficult to achieve (although I have managed it) when lots of things can be remedied by a bit more time on the grillpan or in the oven.
For the meatier fish like tuna or swordfish, which often come in the form of steaks, the truth is that I like them to have spent a bit more time on the grill than is usually recommended. I prefer them when they have dried out a bit. If you prefer your fish less well done then simply give it a bit less time.
Most fish have a very mild flavour. If you poach cod in plain water the resultant dish will not have much taste. So you are going to need to acquire more flavour from somewhere. A good way is to dust the fish in heavily seasoned flour (salt, pepper and sometimes paprika) and then shallow fry in chunks. Monkfish responds very well to this treatment. And if you can get it, gurnard - once cooked - is virtually indistinguishable from this magnificently ugly member of the shark family. Gurnard, by the way, is usually less than half the price of monkfish.
I have not cooked shellfish that much, but the little I do know comes from my own trial and error. In Spain I once cooked the little clams that are called simply almejas without further linguistic adornment. I mixed good quality olive oil with a cheapish white wine, added a huge amount of very finely chopped garlic and let the whole lot poach gently until all the flavours had amalgamated. Then I dropped in the clams, put the lid on the pan and let the whole thing simmer away for about 5 minutes or so. I seem to recall it worked.
Kindle Wireless Reading Device, Wi-Fi, 6" Display, Graphite - Latest Generation
Fish is really easy to cook, once the flesh has reached a uniform temperature of 60 odd degrees (look it up for yourselves - I am too lazy) then the fish is cooked. So poaching or steaming most fish for 5 minutes or so should be enough. Deep frying can be achieved in a short time - a couple of minutes or so for smallish chunks of fish. Shallow frying can take a little longer, but not much. Grilling is all about using your eyes or a timer if not confident about the evidence of your eyes. Disaster is difficult to achieve (although I have managed it) when lots of things can be remedied by a bit more time on the grillpan or in the oven.
For the meatier fish like tuna or swordfish, which often come in the form of steaks, the truth is that I like them to have spent a bit more time on the grill than is usually recommended. I prefer them when they have dried out a bit. If you prefer your fish less well done then simply give it a bit less time.
Most fish have a very mild flavour. If you poach cod in plain water the resultant dish will not have much taste. So you are going to need to acquire more flavour from somewhere. A good way is to dust the fish in heavily seasoned flour (salt, pepper and sometimes paprika) and then shallow fry in chunks. Monkfish responds very well to this treatment. And if you can get it, gurnard - once cooked - is virtually indistinguishable from this magnificently ugly member of the shark family. Gurnard, by the way, is usually less than half the price of monkfish.
I have not cooked shellfish that much, but the little I do know comes from my own trial and error. In Spain I once cooked the little clams that are called simply almejas without further linguistic adornment. I mixed good quality olive oil with a cheapish white wine, added a huge amount of very finely chopped garlic and let the whole lot poach gently until all the flavours had amalgamated. Then I dropped in the clams, put the lid on the pan and let the whole thing simmer away for about 5 minutes or so. I seem to recall it worked.
Kindle Wireless Reading Device, Wi-Fi, 6" Display, Graphite - Latest Generation
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
easy gazpacho
Even though the weather has taken a turn for the worst, I am going to write about a dish better suited to the summer. That dish is another one associated with Cordoba: salmorejo. This is like a thicker version of the better-known gazpacho. The good news is, that it is simpler and less time-consuming to prepare - no peeling cucumber or straining liquids. You will need:
6 good sized ripe tomatoes, enough garlic cloves to suit your own taste, a cup of olive oil, three slices of stale bread or toast (provided, of course, that the bread was decent quality in the first place - ciabatta is excellent here), a little white wine vinegar and a few bits and bobs to garnish - finely chopped hard boiled egg, etc.
This dish could not be simpler and as most of the ingredients are associated with health benefits, it is probably the healthiest dish I commonly make. All you need to do is to blend all the ingredients in a food processor or use a hand held blender and a suitable receptacle. The finished dish should be thick and barely liquid at all. As such, it can be eaten as quite a filling starter, or can be served as an addition - almost a dressing - to other courses of either meat or fish. As there is no cooking involved, you will need to remember that the garlic will be full on, as not only is it raw, but after having been more or less liquidised by the blending process, it will be in the form that gives the strongest garlic flavour. Even one big clove can give quite a hit of garlic flavour.
This is a classic dish for the trial and error method. Taste as you go, to see if you have got enough olive oil, if you need a little more vinegar or stale bread to give the dish body, or a little salt. Serve in bowls with some decent bread, something to garnish, such as a swirl (sorry!) of olive oil, the aforementioned hard boiled eggs or a few slices of serrano ham.
Writing about garlic has made me think about another dish/sauce that has a bold approach to garlic: aioli. The authentic version of this requires two or three cloves of garlic to be pounded in a pestle and mortar with some coarse sea salt (to give better grip) and once it has been rendered into a smooth paste, you then need to add olive oil, a few drops at a time. Work each lot of olive oil into the garlic paste, leaving it a little less strong with each addition of oil. We make it so that when we have finished, there are about 5 or 6 good tablespoons of aioli in the pestle (or is it the mortar?). The resultant paste is usually an attractive greenish yellow colour and makes a fantastic sauce for fish, especially the meatier varieties such as tuna or swordfish steaks. More tomorrowThe Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
6 good sized ripe tomatoes, enough garlic cloves to suit your own taste, a cup of olive oil, three slices of stale bread or toast (provided, of course, that the bread was decent quality in the first place - ciabatta is excellent here), a little white wine vinegar and a few bits and bobs to garnish - finely chopped hard boiled egg, etc.
This dish could not be simpler and as most of the ingredients are associated with health benefits, it is probably the healthiest dish I commonly make. All you need to do is to blend all the ingredients in a food processor or use a hand held blender and a suitable receptacle. The finished dish should be thick and barely liquid at all. As such, it can be eaten as quite a filling starter, or can be served as an addition - almost a dressing - to other courses of either meat or fish. As there is no cooking involved, you will need to remember that the garlic will be full on, as not only is it raw, but after having been more or less liquidised by the blending process, it will be in the form that gives the strongest garlic flavour. Even one big clove can give quite a hit of garlic flavour.
This is a classic dish for the trial and error method. Taste as you go, to see if you have got enough olive oil, if you need a little more vinegar or stale bread to give the dish body, or a little salt. Serve in bowls with some decent bread, something to garnish, such as a swirl (sorry!) of olive oil, the aforementioned hard boiled eggs or a few slices of serrano ham.
Writing about garlic has made me think about another dish/sauce that has a bold approach to garlic: aioli. The authentic version of this requires two or three cloves of garlic to be pounded in a pestle and mortar with some coarse sea salt (to give better grip) and once it has been rendered into a smooth paste, you then need to add olive oil, a few drops at a time. Work each lot of olive oil into the garlic paste, leaving it a little less strong with each addition of oil. We make it so that when we have finished, there are about 5 or 6 good tablespoons of aioli in the pestle (or is it the mortar?). The resultant paste is usually an attractive greenish yellow colour and makes a fantastic sauce for fish, especially the meatier varieties such as tuna or swordfish steaks. More tomorrowThe Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
Monday, 25 October 2010
great places to eat in Spain
I have been somewhat remiss, insofar as I have forgotten the two most important ingredients in any recipe: a glass of wine and some music. The wine I will leave to you: I am sure you know your own taste. For the music, I like a bit of Shakira, Gloria Estefan (especially when she sings in Spanish), Los Lobos (my favourite band of all time) and the incomparable Joaquin Sabina - especially the album 19 Dias y 500 Noches. I fell in love with this album in around 2001 and love it still.
But today, rather than recipes or particular foodstuffs, I would rather talk about some of the great places in which I have eaten when in Spain.
As I mentioned yesterday, the little eating houses within walking distance of Cordoba's Mezquita are all worth a look. I can't remember the name of any particular place just now, but I promise to search my memory banks and my notes and photos and see if I can come up with some specific names.
Seville is one of my favourite cities. We went there with friends at this time of year 2 years ago, and I was a bit worried in case they didn't like it. But all was well and they both enjoyed themselves. The Bodega Santa Cruz in the heart of the Barrio de Santa Cruz is one of the city's iconic spots. The noise is incredible, the speed of the service scarcely credible and the menu is a genuine one, featuring such dishes as sangre encebollada (onioned blood?) and little brown shrimp pancakes known as tortillitas de camarones. This bodega, known by the locals as Las Columnas, is a typical city bar cum eatery, of a type which is sadly slowly disappearing. Even if you don't like it, I am sure that if you have a heart, a soul and an appreciation of the culture of others, you will be able to see why I have recommended it.
On the Alameda de Hercules (Really must get these accents sorted out. I don't want to look like somebody with a falta de ortografia), we ate at a place called the Bodega Norte Andaluza - if memory serves - and I am sure it does. The raciones were simply amazing, especially the battered cod. A real down home, authentic Spanish bodega, with the emphasis on good food and great hospitality.
In the picture postcard village of Frigiliana that sits on the mountainside above the resort of Nerja (long since ruined in my opinion) we have enjoyed fabulous food and hospitality at a little bar/ restaurante called El Ingenio (the sugar cane mill). The last time we went there was a good few years ago but, I am sure that a little bit of diligent Googling will ascertain if it is still there or not. If it is: go - lovely people, fabulous food, a good walk from Nerja if you choose to access the village that way, incredible view down a little valley to the Mediterranean and lots of wildlife - such as mountain goats and various birds of prey. I hope it is still there.
In the city of Segovia you can hardly go wrong, but don't go for the suckling pig: try the lamb, which is less famous, but a much better bet generally. In the village of La Granja it is also difficult to go too far wrong, but I must declare an interest here: most of the licensees are friends of mine.
In Extremadura and Merida in particular it is harder to find a bad place than it is to find a good one. So many memories! I will have to find the time to let you in on all my secrets on another day. Buen provecho!
But today, rather than recipes or particular foodstuffs, I would rather talk about some of the great places in which I have eaten when in Spain.
As I mentioned yesterday, the little eating houses within walking distance of Cordoba's Mezquita are all worth a look. I can't remember the name of any particular place just now, but I promise to search my memory banks and my notes and photos and see if I can come up with some specific names.
Seville is one of my favourite cities. We went there with friends at this time of year 2 years ago, and I was a bit worried in case they didn't like it. But all was well and they both enjoyed themselves. The Bodega Santa Cruz in the heart of the Barrio de Santa Cruz is one of the city's iconic spots. The noise is incredible, the speed of the service scarcely credible and the menu is a genuine one, featuring such dishes as sangre encebollada (onioned blood?) and little brown shrimp pancakes known as tortillitas de camarones. This bodega, known by the locals as Las Columnas, is a typical city bar cum eatery, of a type which is sadly slowly disappearing. Even if you don't like it, I am sure that if you have a heart, a soul and an appreciation of the culture of others, you will be able to see why I have recommended it.
On the Alameda de Hercules (Really must get these accents sorted out. I don't want to look like somebody with a falta de ortografia), we ate at a place called the Bodega Norte Andaluza - if memory serves - and I am sure it does. The raciones were simply amazing, especially the battered cod. A real down home, authentic Spanish bodega, with the emphasis on good food and great hospitality.
In the picture postcard village of Frigiliana that sits on the mountainside above the resort of Nerja (long since ruined in my opinion) we have enjoyed fabulous food and hospitality at a little bar/ restaurante called El Ingenio (the sugar cane mill). The last time we went there was a good few years ago but, I am sure that a little bit of diligent Googling will ascertain if it is still there or not. If it is: go - lovely people, fabulous food, a good walk from Nerja if you choose to access the village that way, incredible view down a little valley to the Mediterranean and lots of wildlife - such as mountain goats and various birds of prey. I hope it is still there.
In the city of Segovia you can hardly go wrong, but don't go for the suckling pig: try the lamb, which is less famous, but a much better bet generally. In the village of La Granja it is also difficult to go too far wrong, but I must declare an interest here: most of the licensees are friends of mine.
In Extremadura and Merida in particular it is harder to find a bad place than it is to find a good one. So many memories! I will have to find the time to let you in on all my secrets on another day. Buen provecho!
Sunday, 24 October 2010
oxtail stew Cordoba style
Today the weather just outside Blackpool is absolutely amazing: clear skies, very little wind and plenty of sunshine. Why then am I cooking an oxtail stew better suited to the lightless days of January and February? Because I felt like it, plus I liked the look of the meat when I was in the butcher's. (I am relatively sure that the apostrophe back there is correct - the word shop being taken as understood.)
Anyway if you want presentation, Masterchef style, with towers and swirls and extra prepostions that bring nothing to the party, you are in the wrong place. Simplicity and taste are the watchwords here.
Although only cooking for Cheryl and me, I seem to have acquired 1 kilo of oxtail. This means we will be eating this stew for days. So, in time-honoured fashion, here are the ingredients for 4 people:
1 kilo of oxtail, 1 large onion, enough garlic cloves to suit your palate, 2 tins of tomatoes,2 tins of haricot beans (in truth just about any good quality tinned beans will do, with the possible exception of the red kidney beans usually used for chilli con carne) a bit of tomato puree, a pinch of dried oregano (entirely optional) a pinch of chilli flakes, a little salt and little sugar to taste, some olive oil, a tin of anchovies, a little plain flour and 2 good sized glasses of a full bodied red wine.
Firstly dust the oxtail in seasoned flour and brown the meat in batches, using some of the oil from the anchovies and a little olive oil from your store cupboard, in a heavy based saucepan. Whilst the meat is browning, finely chop the onions, garlic and the anchovies. To make this easier you should drain the anchovies of their oil. This makes the anchovies easier to handle and, of course, you can use some or all of the oil from the anchovy can to cook with. When you have browned all the meat, remove it from the pan and set to one side. Then add the chopped onions and garlic along with the oregano and the chilli flakes. Gently fry these until the onions and the garlic have softened up and acquired some colour. Next add the finely chopped anchovies and fry for a further ten minutes or so until no trace of their original form can be seen. By this time, hopefully, you will have drained the tinned beans and opened the canned tomatoes.All the remaining ingredients can now be added to the saucepan.(that include a pinch of salt and a pinch of sugar). Don't forget the wine! Turn the heat up and bring to a simmer. Once the contents of the pan have reached a gentle rolling simmer, what I normally do is to put a heat diffuser under the pan (you might have to turn the heat up again briefly) and let it simmer with the lid on for 4 hours. You might get away with 3 hours depending on the quality of the meat you have used, but I once had a batch that barely responded to 6 hours at a low simmer. If the sauce is still too liquid, you can always take the lid off and let it simmer that way for a further 45 minutes to an hour.
During preparation I recommend the Gloria Estefan album, "Mi Tierra" and a glass of something suitably hale and hearty.
Why it is that this dish is so associated with Cordoba, I don't know - given that it is one of the hottest cities in the whole of Europe.(Actually, although I don't know, I suspect it dates back to the days of the Caliphate, when Muslim, Christian and Jew could all have tucked into a dish of oxtail without ever breaking any religious commandments.) All I can say is that October is a perfect time to visit, especially if you are leaving behind the drizzle of the UK. A sunny day with 22 degree temperatures and no particular agenda, except to wander round the narrow maze of alleyways that forms the Juderia barrio, hard by the famous Mezquita, is one of life's great pleasures. If you can find a typical local bar/restaurante/taverna in which to have a leisurely lunch, then that should make a pretty good end to a morning's sightseeing. Don't forget to have a look at the bronze statue of Maimonides, which happens to be the work of the father of my good friend Rafael.
Anyway if you want presentation, Masterchef style, with towers and swirls and extra prepostions that bring nothing to the party, you are in the wrong place. Simplicity and taste are the watchwords here.
Although only cooking for Cheryl and me, I seem to have acquired 1 kilo of oxtail. This means we will be eating this stew for days. So, in time-honoured fashion, here are the ingredients for 4 people:
1 kilo of oxtail, 1 large onion, enough garlic cloves to suit your palate, 2 tins of tomatoes,2 tins of haricot beans (in truth just about any good quality tinned beans will do, with the possible exception of the red kidney beans usually used for chilli con carne) a bit of tomato puree, a pinch of dried oregano (entirely optional) a pinch of chilli flakes, a little salt and little sugar to taste, some olive oil, a tin of anchovies, a little plain flour and 2 good sized glasses of a full bodied red wine.
Firstly dust the oxtail in seasoned flour and brown the meat in batches, using some of the oil from the anchovies and a little olive oil from your store cupboard, in a heavy based saucepan. Whilst the meat is browning, finely chop the onions, garlic and the anchovies. To make this easier you should drain the anchovies of their oil. This makes the anchovies easier to handle and, of course, you can use some or all of the oil from the anchovy can to cook with. When you have browned all the meat, remove it from the pan and set to one side. Then add the chopped onions and garlic along with the oregano and the chilli flakes. Gently fry these until the onions and the garlic have softened up and acquired some colour. Next add the finely chopped anchovies and fry for a further ten minutes or so until no trace of their original form can be seen. By this time, hopefully, you will have drained the tinned beans and opened the canned tomatoes.All the remaining ingredients can now be added to the saucepan.(that include a pinch of salt and a pinch of sugar). Don't forget the wine! Turn the heat up and bring to a simmer. Once the contents of the pan have reached a gentle rolling simmer, what I normally do is to put a heat diffuser under the pan (you might have to turn the heat up again briefly) and let it simmer with the lid on for 4 hours. You might get away with 3 hours depending on the quality of the meat you have used, but I once had a batch that barely responded to 6 hours at a low simmer. If the sauce is still too liquid, you can always take the lid off and let it simmer that way for a further 45 minutes to an hour.
During preparation I recommend the Gloria Estefan album, "Mi Tierra" and a glass of something suitably hale and hearty.
Why it is that this dish is so associated with Cordoba, I don't know - given that it is one of the hottest cities in the whole of Europe.(Actually, although I don't know, I suspect it dates back to the days of the Caliphate, when Muslim, Christian and Jew could all have tucked into a dish of oxtail without ever breaking any religious commandments.) All I can say is that October is a perfect time to visit, especially if you are leaving behind the drizzle of the UK. A sunny day with 22 degree temperatures and no particular agenda, except to wander round the narrow maze of alleyways that forms the Juderia barrio, hard by the famous Mezquita, is one of life's great pleasures. If you can find a typical local bar/restaurante/taverna in which to have a leisurely lunch, then that should make a pretty good end to a morning's sightseeing. Don't forget to have a look at the bronze statue of Maimonides, which happens to be the work of the father of my good friend Rafael.
Saturday, 23 October 2010
Spanish wine
There is more to Spanish wine than Rioja. I always find Rioja to be a little bit of a disappointment. This is perhaps because they were the first wine producing area in Spain to attract global attention in the modern era. Rioja wines were always well marketed and promoted. That is, perhaps, the reason behind my occasional let downs with the produce of Spain's most celebrated wine region. However, as I intend to write mainly positive things in this blog, I will just say that my wife, Cheryl and I once had a stunning red from Rioja called - if memory serves - Luberri. This was a few years ago now when we were on a trip to Bilbao.
If I was in an unfamiliar part of Spain in a restaurant I didn't know, I would almost certainly choose a red wine from the Ribera del Duero. I have had some really memorable wines from this region and I am not alone in my enthusiasm: Winston Churchill had an appetite for Vega Sicilia - famous for being the most expensive wines in Spain.
On a trip to Zamora I enjoyed the wines of Toro. If you want a description of the town I recommend "As I walked out one midsummer morning" by the incomparable Laurie Lee. I remember being surprised by the fact that wines labelled joven (young) were extremely full bodied and often had an alcohol content of around 14%. Some of them were really exceptional.
I normally prefer red wine to white wine, but I do not wish to ignore vino blanco. Albarino (I can't get the tilde over the n when I am blogging - sorry.) from Galicia is the perfect accompaniment to fish and seafood in general. It can be difficult to get here in the UK, but it is well worth the effort if you can find it.
I do not generally believe in the shibboleths about what wine goes with which food. And I am going to resist dropping into a rant here, suffice it to say that I think most adults are perfectly capable of choosing food and wine combinations to suit their own palates.
Certain things are sacred though, like the combination of barbecues and rose wine. I have had some great pinks from the Somontano DO. The summers in this part of Aragon are incredibly hot: the Spanish special forces do their desert training there. Argentina (to broaden the theme out a little) also has some great roses.
Next up, the wines from my beloved Extremadura. When Cheryl and I lived in the region, we used to enjoy a meaty red called Valdequemao or possibly Valdequemado. This was only 3 years ago and the price per bottle was under 2 Euros. Corte Real Platinum from Vinexsa has won so many awards that it hardly needs me to publicise it. Great people at this winery and loyal friends when I lived in the regionn.
However, if I cast my mind back to the best bottle of wine I have ever had, I would have to go back to our honeymoon in Mallorca. We found that restaurants that offered Cuina Mallorquina (Mallorcan cuisine in the mallorquin language) had the best foods and usually had wines from the island to accompany them. The two main wine producing areas on Mallorca are around the town of Binissalem and also around village of Andratx. It is a dangerous thing to recommend wines, but if you like full bodied reds, you can't go wrong on Mallorca. Salud!
If I was in an unfamiliar part of Spain in a restaurant I didn't know, I would almost certainly choose a red wine from the Ribera del Duero. I have had some really memorable wines from this region and I am not alone in my enthusiasm: Winston Churchill had an appetite for Vega Sicilia - famous for being the most expensive wines in Spain.
On a trip to Zamora I enjoyed the wines of Toro. If you want a description of the town I recommend "As I walked out one midsummer morning" by the incomparable Laurie Lee. I remember being surprised by the fact that wines labelled joven (young) were extremely full bodied and often had an alcohol content of around 14%. Some of them were really exceptional.
I normally prefer red wine to white wine, but I do not wish to ignore vino blanco. Albarino (I can't get the tilde over the n when I am blogging - sorry.) from Galicia is the perfect accompaniment to fish and seafood in general. It can be difficult to get here in the UK, but it is well worth the effort if you can find it.
I do not generally believe in the shibboleths about what wine goes with which food. And I am going to resist dropping into a rant here, suffice it to say that I think most adults are perfectly capable of choosing food and wine combinations to suit their own palates.
Certain things are sacred though, like the combination of barbecues and rose wine. I have had some great pinks from the Somontano DO. The summers in this part of Aragon are incredibly hot: the Spanish special forces do their desert training there. Argentina (to broaden the theme out a little) also has some great roses.
Next up, the wines from my beloved Extremadura. When Cheryl and I lived in the region, we used to enjoy a meaty red called Valdequemao or possibly Valdequemado. This was only 3 years ago and the price per bottle was under 2 Euros. Corte Real Platinum from Vinexsa has won so many awards that it hardly needs me to publicise it. Great people at this winery and loyal friends when I lived in the regionn.
However, if I cast my mind back to the best bottle of wine I have ever had, I would have to go back to our honeymoon in Mallorca. We found that restaurants that offered Cuina Mallorquina (Mallorcan cuisine in the mallorquin language) had the best foods and usually had wines from the island to accompany them. The two main wine producing areas on Mallorca are around the town of Binissalem and also around village of Andratx. It is a dangerous thing to recommend wines, but if you like full bodied reds, you can't go wrong on Mallorca. Salud!
Friday, 22 October 2010
Spanish pork and tomato stew
If you want to eat well in Spain, allow me to make a suggestion: forget about fancy restaurants and look for a decent bar. You know how you can judge a good Chinese restaurant by the quality of its ribs. Well I have a similar theory about carne con tomate. If a bar can't get a simple stew of pork and tomatoes right, then really, how good can that bar be?
But when this simple dish is good, it can be sublime. I had to make a few times before I got it right. That said, if somebody else is going to make it for me, then my favourite place on earth to eat this dish would be the Bar Bocanegra in the city of Merida - Extremadura. I have eaten their carne con tomate in the company of the manager of a 5-star hotel; a man well used to the finer things in life. He declared it to be excellent - further proof of the lack of pretension that dominates in (most of) Spain's eating establishments.
Most of my cooking is done by eye, by touch, by feel and by taste. Only rarely do I measure out the ingredients with mathematical precision. Nevertheless the ingredients for a decent sized portion for four people are:
1 large onion, 5 cloves of garlic, about a kilo of cubed stewing pork, a glass of white wine, two tins of tomatoes (usually around the 400 gram mark), a little salt, a little sugar, some olive oil and a pinch of dried oregano.
Firstly you need to empty the tinned tomatoes into a suitable container and liquidise them with whatever tool you normally use. From experience I know that it is this first step that makes all the difference to the finished dish. Next, peel and chop the onion and garlic quite finely. Heat the olive oil in decent sized saucepan and brown the meat until it has taken on plenty of colour. It is usually best to do this in 3 or 4 batches, so as not to overcrowd the pan. When you have browned the last of the meat, remove it from the pan and add the onions and garlic. By frying these gently you should notice that the bottom of the pan that was sticky with the residue of the browned meat becomes cleaner. I can only suppose that it is the acid in the alliums that is the beneficial element in this process. Once the onions and garlic are nicely softened you can return the meat to the pan along with the liquidised tomatoes, a pinch of dried oregano, a good pinch of salt, a little sugar to taste and a glass of white wine. For some reason, the cheaper the wine, the better the result with this dish. It breaks the old adage about a wine not being good enough to drink on its own not being good enough to cook with. Why this is, I don't know. I only know that it works. Now all that needs to be done is to let the whole thing simmer gently with the lid on for two hours. If after two hours, the sauce does not look quite dark enough, give it a further half hour with the lid off and that should thicken the sauce to the right consistency.
But when this simple dish is good, it can be sublime. I had to make a few times before I got it right. That said, if somebody else is going to make it for me, then my favourite place on earth to eat this dish would be the Bar Bocanegra in the city of Merida - Extremadura. I have eaten their carne con tomate in the company of the manager of a 5-star hotel; a man well used to the finer things in life. He declared it to be excellent - further proof of the lack of pretension that dominates in (most of) Spain's eating establishments.
Most of my cooking is done by eye, by touch, by feel and by taste. Only rarely do I measure out the ingredients with mathematical precision. Nevertheless the ingredients for a decent sized portion for four people are:
1 large onion, 5 cloves of garlic, about a kilo of cubed stewing pork, a glass of white wine, two tins of tomatoes (usually around the 400 gram mark), a little salt, a little sugar, some olive oil and a pinch of dried oregano.
Firstly you need to empty the tinned tomatoes into a suitable container and liquidise them with whatever tool you normally use. From experience I know that it is this first step that makes all the difference to the finished dish. Next, peel and chop the onion and garlic quite finely. Heat the olive oil in decent sized saucepan and brown the meat until it has taken on plenty of colour. It is usually best to do this in 3 or 4 batches, so as not to overcrowd the pan. When you have browned the last of the meat, remove it from the pan and add the onions and garlic. By frying these gently you should notice that the bottom of the pan that was sticky with the residue of the browned meat becomes cleaner. I can only suppose that it is the acid in the alliums that is the beneficial element in this process. Once the onions and garlic are nicely softened you can return the meat to the pan along with the liquidised tomatoes, a pinch of dried oregano, a good pinch of salt, a little sugar to taste and a glass of white wine. For some reason, the cheaper the wine, the better the result with this dish. It breaks the old adage about a wine not being good enough to drink on its own not being good enough to cook with. Why this is, I don't know. I only know that it works. Now all that needs to be done is to let the whole thing simmer gently with the lid on for two hours. If after two hours, the sauce does not look quite dark enough, give it a further half hour with the lid off and that should thicken the sauce to the right consistency.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Spanish and Latin American Philosophy
My philosophy when cooking has been informed by an approach that is largely Mediterranean in its influence. Apart from over 10 years spent living in Spain (and numerous holidays spent there) I have travelled fairly widely throughout the Mediterranean region - Italy, France, Greece, Turkey and, althought it looks across the Atlantic towards the New World, I am going to allow myself the indulgence of including Portugal in the mix.
I have enjoyed some wonderful meals in all of these places. This brings me to the issue of presentation. Certain television programmes would have us believe that food is rendered inedible if it is not presented in stacks and towers with artfully applied swirls of jus surrounding it. My experience, however, is that all the great meals I have ever had, have been in places where the presentation aspect has been limited to simply putting the food onto a dish or a plate: indeed the best meal I ever had was served not on a plate but on a sheet of greased proof paper. If you look at the art of presentation in the light of what the food will surely become in 24 hours or so, then you can see that this is time best spent doing something more profitable.
With presentation dealt with, I can now go on to explain my feelings on certain ingredients. So many of the things we associate so readily with the Mediterranean countries have their origins in South and Central America. Peppers (including chilli peppers), tomatoes and potatoes all come from the New World. These days though, they have been adopted by the good people of Spain and all the other countries I mentioned earlier. When I cook with these things I feel as if what I am cooking will turn out with a Mediterranean look or taste to it. I recognise, however, that home for many of these ingredients was, originally, the chilly altiplano or the steaming rain forests.
With regard to the equipment I use in the kitchen, I use simple things: wooden spoons, good quality non-stick frying pans and one or two Spanish oddities. The peas and ham from yesterday's blog I cook in an enamel pan with a diameter of about 30cm and a depth of about 10cm. These black and white speckled pans are ubitquitous in Spain. The good points are that they are cheap and you can use just about anything to clean them with. The bad points include the fact that they heat up and cool down very quickly indeed, tend to burn things left unattended and will break if dropped (the enamel will chip off and the metal underneath will then rust.) I also like to fry things, especially prawns in garlic (gambas pil-pil) in a heavy earthenware cazuela. To British eyes it seems an unlikely thing to fry anything in a vessel made of glazed clay. The Spanish really got it right with this one though, as unlike its speckled friend, it keeps the heat for a long time. They also look good when you bring them to the table and serve the sizzling prawns directly from them.
So with that in mind, I will give you a recipe for a surefire dessert that has always been a winner for me. My simple fruit salad with pineapple, mango, golden rum and brown sugar. As you can see none of the ingredients in authentically Spanish, yet they are all easily available in Spain, the UK and the USA. The golden colour of the finished desert is both refreshing and summery and it could not be simpler.
You will need 1 large ripe pineapple, 1 large ripe mango, a shot of golden rum and a bit of brown sugar to suit your own tastes. Peel the pineapple and cut into cubes - about the same sort of size you would get in a tin of pineapple chunks. Peel and slice the mango into generous slices. Add a good shot of rum and a sprinkle of soft brown sugar and allow the juices to seep out of the fruit and meld with the booze and the sugar. Serve any way that takes your fancy. Just one word of caution, you need to be careful with your non knife-holding hand as the semi-peeled mango will be slippery and difficult to hold.
I have enjoyed some wonderful meals in all of these places. This brings me to the issue of presentation. Certain television programmes would have us believe that food is rendered inedible if it is not presented in stacks and towers with artfully applied swirls of jus surrounding it. My experience, however, is that all the great meals I have ever had, have been in places where the presentation aspect has been limited to simply putting the food onto a dish or a plate: indeed the best meal I ever had was served not on a plate but on a sheet of greased proof paper. If you look at the art of presentation in the light of what the food will surely become in 24 hours or so, then you can see that this is time best spent doing something more profitable.
With presentation dealt with, I can now go on to explain my feelings on certain ingredients. So many of the things we associate so readily with the Mediterranean countries have their origins in South and Central America. Peppers (including chilli peppers), tomatoes and potatoes all come from the New World. These days though, they have been adopted by the good people of Spain and all the other countries I mentioned earlier. When I cook with these things I feel as if what I am cooking will turn out with a Mediterranean look or taste to it. I recognise, however, that home for many of these ingredients was, originally, the chilly altiplano or the steaming rain forests.
With regard to the equipment I use in the kitchen, I use simple things: wooden spoons, good quality non-stick frying pans and one or two Spanish oddities. The peas and ham from yesterday's blog I cook in an enamel pan with a diameter of about 30cm and a depth of about 10cm. These black and white speckled pans are ubitquitous in Spain. The good points are that they are cheap and you can use just about anything to clean them with. The bad points include the fact that they heat up and cool down very quickly indeed, tend to burn things left unattended and will break if dropped (the enamel will chip off and the metal underneath will then rust.) I also like to fry things, especially prawns in garlic (gambas pil-pil) in a heavy earthenware cazuela. To British eyes it seems an unlikely thing to fry anything in a vessel made of glazed clay. The Spanish really got it right with this one though, as unlike its speckled friend, it keeps the heat for a long time. They also look good when you bring them to the table and serve the sizzling prawns directly from them.
So with that in mind, I will give you a recipe for a surefire dessert that has always been a winner for me. My simple fruit salad with pineapple, mango, golden rum and brown sugar. As you can see none of the ingredients in authentically Spanish, yet they are all easily available in Spain, the UK and the USA. The golden colour of the finished desert is both refreshing and summery and it could not be simpler.
You will need 1 large ripe pineapple, 1 large ripe mango, a shot of golden rum and a bit of brown sugar to suit your own tastes. Peel the pineapple and cut into cubes - about the same sort of size you would get in a tin of pineapple chunks. Peel and slice the mango into generous slices. Add a good shot of rum and a sprinkle of soft brown sugar and allow the juices to seep out of the fruit and meld with the booze and the sugar. Serve any way that takes your fancy. Just one word of caution, you need to be careful with your non knife-holding hand as the semi-peeled mango will be slippery and difficult to hold.
Wednesday, 20 October 2010
Spanish peas and ham
Today is the day of my first blog on the subject of Spanish food. I hope to blog on a regular basis. I hope to resist the temptation to rant and with a bit of luck I should not have to mention the word passion incessantly: it should come through in the writing.
I will start by saying that I love Spain, Spanish food and above all else the Spanish people, at whose hands I have been the recipient of truly astonishing levels of hospitality. If any criticisms come to the surface later on, I hope my Spanish friends will understand that, in the event of any doubt, I would refer readers to my opening comment.
I will post recipes and tips, but I hope that what comes through is an attitude towards food and perhaps even towards life. To a certain extent, I am self taught in cooking. There have been many trials and quite a few errors. The thing about errors is not to repeat them
There are a few things without which the aspiring Spanish-style cook cannot hope to function. These fundamental ingredients are, in no particular order:
Olive oil (I will leave the quality up to you, but you only get what you pay for.) onions, garlic, canned or jarred anchovies, paprika both the sweet and the hot, chorizo - especially the softer type which is ideal to add to dishes to give extra flavour, eggs, flour, olives, tinned tomatoes and good quality tinned tuna. As the blog progresses it will become apparent that certain foods need to be added to the list.
So, in the relaxed spirit in which I hope to continue, I will list the ingredients, which are:
1 large onion or 2 smaller ones, 4 or 5 cloves of garlic or more if you feel like it, 2 x 400 gram cans of high quality petit pois - I use the French brand d'aucy, olive oil, a glass of dry white wine and between 150 and 200 grams of serrano ham. It is important that the ham be from the scruffy end bits of the ham, which are often sold in Spanish supermarkets. The most important thing is that the meat should be able to cut into a 1cm dice or even rougher than that if you can get the ham of the right thickness.
Firstly chop the onions and garlic as finely as you can. Heat the olive oil in a wide frying pan and fry the onions and garlic together for a good ten minutes. The simple truth of this stage is that the longer you fry the onions and garlic the sweeter they will become. The resulting dish will be all the better for a bit of patience at this stage. While the onion and garlic are gently frying (don't forget to keep an eye on it), cut the ham up into a 1cm dice. When you think the onions and garlic are ready, add the ham and fry gently for long enough to render a good proportion of the fat out of it. Again 10 minutes is probably a good time. Then add 2 tins of peas, being careful to add a bit of the water from the cans, as the starch present in the water will act together with the fat from the ham to make an emulsion that will then thicken the sauce. Add a glass of dry white wine and let the whole thing simmer for 15 minutes or so - enough time to boil the alcohol out of the wine and to allow the sauce to thicken a bit. At this point I should make it plain that I have only ever made this dish by instinct. With the exception of the 2 cans of peas, I have usually done everything by eye. The way to tell if the dish has been a success, apart from its being delicious upon completion, is to see that when any leftovers have cooled down, the sauce has thickened up quite a bit as a result of the fat from the ham solidifying again.
Enjoy with a glass of whatever wine takes your fancy. Que aproveche!
I will start by saying that I love Spain, Spanish food and above all else the Spanish people, at whose hands I have been the recipient of truly astonishing levels of hospitality. If any criticisms come to the surface later on, I hope my Spanish friends will understand that, in the event of any doubt, I would refer readers to my opening comment.
I will post recipes and tips, but I hope that what comes through is an attitude towards food and perhaps even towards life. To a certain extent, I am self taught in cooking. There have been many trials and quite a few errors. The thing about errors is not to repeat them
There are a few things without which the aspiring Spanish-style cook cannot hope to function. These fundamental ingredients are, in no particular order:
Olive oil (I will leave the quality up to you, but you only get what you pay for.) onions, garlic, canned or jarred anchovies, paprika both the sweet and the hot, chorizo - especially the softer type which is ideal to add to dishes to give extra flavour, eggs, flour, olives, tinned tomatoes and good quality tinned tuna. As the blog progresses it will become apparent that certain foods need to be added to the list.
So, in the relaxed spirit in which I hope to continue, I will list the ingredients, which are:
1 large onion or 2 smaller ones, 4 or 5 cloves of garlic or more if you feel like it, 2 x 400 gram cans of high quality petit pois - I use the French brand d'aucy, olive oil, a glass of dry white wine and between 150 and 200 grams of serrano ham. It is important that the ham be from the scruffy end bits of the ham, which are often sold in Spanish supermarkets. The most important thing is that the meat should be able to cut into a 1cm dice or even rougher than that if you can get the ham of the right thickness.
Firstly chop the onions and garlic as finely as you can. Heat the olive oil in a wide frying pan and fry the onions and garlic together for a good ten minutes. The simple truth of this stage is that the longer you fry the onions and garlic the sweeter they will become. The resulting dish will be all the better for a bit of patience at this stage. While the onion and garlic are gently frying (don't forget to keep an eye on it), cut the ham up into a 1cm dice. When you think the onions and garlic are ready, add the ham and fry gently for long enough to render a good proportion of the fat out of it. Again 10 minutes is probably a good time. Then add 2 tins of peas, being careful to add a bit of the water from the cans, as the starch present in the water will act together with the fat from the ham to make an emulsion that will then thicken the sauce. Add a glass of dry white wine and let the whole thing simmer for 15 minutes or so - enough time to boil the alcohol out of the wine and to allow the sauce to thicken a bit. At this point I should make it plain that I have only ever made this dish by instinct. With the exception of the 2 cans of peas, I have usually done everything by eye. The way to tell if the dish has been a success, apart from its being delicious upon completion, is to see that when any leftovers have cooled down, the sauce has thickened up quite a bit as a result of the fat from the ham solidifying again.
Enjoy with a glass of whatever wine takes your fancy. Que aproveche!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)