For those who thought this blog was defunct, or a passing whim: Yes.
But here's another recipe, because it's half term and I haven't got anything else to do apart from writing to the council with gripes about council tax. I made this a while ago, adding a load of things that seemed a good idea at the time (i.e. in cupboard), and setting fire to things to give myself that cheffy vibe.
Scale up appropriately to serve all the people all the time, and arrange as artistically as you can.
Ingredients:
Some lentils: half brown, half red.
Celery
Cucumber
Sprightly lettuce
Spring onion, or a couple of shallots, or something.
Fennel seeds
A whole fennel
An orange
Sherry in a culinary amount
Halloumi (sliced)
White wine for gratuitous usage/drinking whilst cooking
Splash of white wine vinegar
Butter
Salt, pepper
Method:
1) Bring a pan of salted water to the boil. Take the fennel, chop off the sprouty bits according to artistic temperament. Peel off the individual leaves (this may be made easier by chopping off the bottom too). Place the fennel leaves in the boiling water until they are softened but far from deceased.
2) In another pan, cook the lentils. Start the brown ones off first, as they'll take a bit longer. Give them about twelve minutes in total, so that they are soft, but nowhere near a dal (also spelled Dahl or Daal, or Dhal).
3) By the time the lentils are done, have a bowl ready with some white wine (or some water, depending on how extravagant you are feeling). When the lentils are done, drain them and place them in the bowl of wine to cool.
4) Make a salad. I like to start by cutting the lettuce into strips, then chop up the rest of the stuff quite small. Arrange this on the plates.
5) Hopefully you've spotted the lack of fennel reference by now, and have had the forethought to take it out the pan.
6) Dry off the fennel in a clean tea-towel. Now we're going to do three things at once.
7) Heat up the most solid frying pan you have, to blistering point. Add three or four fennel leaves at once, and let them singe a little at the edges. Stand well back, remove all pets from immediate vicinity, and glug some sherry into the pan. Allow the sherry to ignite (tilt the pan over the flame). To look dead cheffy, shake the pan a bit at this point. Repeat for the remaining fennel leaves.
8) Fry the halloumi in a different pan.
9) Construct a warm dressing: in a hot pan, fry the fennel seeds for thirty seconds. Add some of the wine from the lentils, a little white wine vinegar, the juice of half an orange, some salt and pepper. Reduce it rapidly. Stir in some cubes of (vegan) butter, letting it melt and thicken the sauce.
10) Drain the remaining wine from the lentils, and scatter atop salad. You can arrange the fennel (stalks pointing inwards like a teepee). Spoon the dressing over the salad.
11) Place some slices of halloumi strategically round the edge of each plate.
12) Eat with bread. Drink all wine that remains. If you like custard tarts, you could have one for pudding.
I encourage people to not follow this recipe exactly (or, indeed, to cook something else). Salad -- being cold -- gives you lots of time to arrange it artistically, so take that opportunity. Make the faces of the Shadow Cabinet with the lettuce, cucumber and an additional radish. My only practical point is that the sauce should be quite sharp: it might taste pretty gnarly when you sample it from the pan (as you should do), but this is necessary to stand up to the halloumi.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Friday, 24 September 2010
A francophony of onion soup
By populous request, here's a recipe for French Onion soup. Strictly speaking it isn't vegan, as it should absolutely be served with bread and a good grating of Gruyère/Emmental, but strictly speaking it is vegan because you absolutely don't have to add the cheese, unless I'm around. This isn't my recipe -- I think I stole it from Nigel Slater in the Observer a few months ago -- but it works nicely: his hint, which is also mine, is to make sure the onions are well browned, but to brown them slowly. Slowly. In short, make sure you have a good hour free, and something else to do like having a stab at the Riemann hypothesis.
Serves some people.
Ingredients:
About ten smallish onions, or equivalent larger ones. (The more the better.)
1 large glass white wine
1 good quality vegetable stock cube, or about half a litre of fresh veg stock (topped up to a litre with water)
(sprig of parsley and a bay leaf: these are by no means essential; if you have made your own stock then you probably put them in there, and there is no need to bother)
olive oil
To serve: baguette, or other stout bread
emmental/gruyère
Method:
1. Peel the onions. Chop them in half. Cut them into fine slices longitudinally.
To cook the soup in, you will want some kind of large saucepan or cauldron. However, I've found it's best to start browning the onion in two pans, so they have more access to the bottom of the pan and therefore brown rather than just sweating. Use the cauldron for one half of the onions, and a large frying pan for the other.
2. Heat a good table spoon of olive oil in both pans, heat it up a little bit and add half the onions to each. Turn down the heat as low as possible so that the pan is still heated. Leave the onions, stirring them occasionally. Now you want to let them brown -- but slowly -- over the course of a good forty-five minutes. Don't brown them too quickly. Have the heat very low. I'm milking this point a little, but caramelising the onion is the key to making the soup taste like French Onion soup rather than onions in water.
3. As the onions in both pans cook down, you can transfer those in the frying pan into the cauldron. Let them cook down some more.
4. Once they are brown, you can make it into soup. Pour in the glass of wine. Add the stock (or add about a litre of cold water and a stock cube). If you are bothering with parsley and bay leaf, add them now.
5. (Read point 6 now too, as some simultaneous action is required). Bring to the boil, and simmer for about fifteen minutes. Fish out the parsley -- which will look like mutant algae by this point -- and the bay leaf. Taste repeatedly and season heavily (I do like to over-salt things by most people's taste, but this will be awfully bland if you under-season it).
6. About half an hour before you want to serve (this might be whilst you're still browning the onions, actually), heat an oven to 100 degrees. Cut the baguette into rounds, and place them in the oven. The idea is to dry them out so that they float on the soup, rather than toast them.
7. Remove the bread from the oven. Turn on the grill.
8. By this time, the soup should be done to the point described in point 5. Ladle the soup into bowls, and place two or three pieces of baguette on top of each. Pray like Noah that they float. Now grate the gruyère/emmental over the top of each bowl. Place the bowls under the grill until the cheese has gone a nice golden brown colour and has a texture like sun.
(n.b. any vegan worth their tofu should know perfectly well which bits they should omit. If they're lucky they will have soup with toast on top. By gods, if you must put on some fake cheesly/parmesano/soya-based-goo then go for it, just do it in a darkened room.)
9. Remove from the grill. Turn off the grill. Turn on Channel 4 where Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall will be dissecting a liver. Sit and eat and be glad you is a real vegan.
Serves some people.
Ingredients:
About ten smallish onions, or equivalent larger ones. (The more the better.)
1 large glass white wine
1 good quality vegetable stock cube, or about half a litre of fresh veg stock (topped up to a litre with water)
(sprig of parsley and a bay leaf: these are by no means essential; if you have made your own stock then you probably put them in there, and there is no need to bother)
olive oil
To serve: baguette, or other stout bread
emmental/gruyère
Method:
1. Peel the onions. Chop them in half. Cut them into fine slices longitudinally.
To cook the soup in, you will want some kind of large saucepan or cauldron. However, I've found it's best to start browning the onion in two pans, so they have more access to the bottom of the pan and therefore brown rather than just sweating. Use the cauldron for one half of the onions, and a large frying pan for the other.
2. Heat a good table spoon of olive oil in both pans, heat it up a little bit and add half the onions to each. Turn down the heat as low as possible so that the pan is still heated. Leave the onions, stirring them occasionally. Now you want to let them brown -- but slowly -- over the course of a good forty-five minutes. Don't brown them too quickly. Have the heat very low. I'm milking this point a little, but caramelising the onion is the key to making the soup taste like French Onion soup rather than onions in water.
3. As the onions in both pans cook down, you can transfer those in the frying pan into the cauldron. Let them cook down some more.
4. Once they are brown, you can make it into soup. Pour in the glass of wine. Add the stock (or add about a litre of cold water and a stock cube). If you are bothering with parsley and bay leaf, add them now.
5. (Read point 6 now too, as some simultaneous action is required). Bring to the boil, and simmer for about fifteen minutes. Fish out the parsley -- which will look like mutant algae by this point -- and the bay leaf. Taste repeatedly and season heavily (I do like to over-salt things by most people's taste, but this will be awfully bland if you under-season it).
6. About half an hour before you want to serve (this might be whilst you're still browning the onions, actually), heat an oven to 100 degrees. Cut the baguette into rounds, and place them in the oven. The idea is to dry them out so that they float on the soup, rather than toast them.
7. Remove the bread from the oven. Turn on the grill.
8. By this time, the soup should be done to the point described in point 5. Ladle the soup into bowls, and place two or three pieces of baguette on top of each. Pray like Noah that they float. Now grate the gruyère/emmental over the top of each bowl. Place the bowls under the grill until the cheese has gone a nice golden brown colour and has a texture like sun.
(n.b. any vegan worth their tofu should know perfectly well which bits they should omit. If they're lucky they will have soup with toast on top. By gods, if you must put on some fake cheesly/parmesano/soya-based-goo then go for it, just do it in a darkened room.)
9. Remove from the grill. Turn off the grill. Turn on Channel 4 where Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall will be dissecting a liver. Sit and eat and be glad you is a real vegan.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Spaghetti Bolognisn't
[[Slight notes for this, as I've made it again. It scales up quite well, but don't overdo the lentils, and add the soya milk towards the beginning, otherwise you get something of a creamy sauce, which is nice but not really bolognese as I conceive it. There, now you know.]]
I attempted yesterday to make something that was a convincing Spaghetti Bolognese (without using any kind of vegan mince). Having made some curries a couple of weeks ago that seemed to work well (they thickened nicely, had a good texture, etc), I thought the general idea and base ingredients could be adapted to a bolognese sauce (Ragu): so, aside from tomatoes and all the normal stuff, the sauce is made from (and helpfully thickened by) red lentils and roasted aubergines.
The main problem is, of course, to make it taste and feel (to my beef-eating mouth) like a real bolognese sauce, and not such a mix of vegetables in tomato sauce. In short, aim for a semi-liquid Dhal, and make it taste as Italian as possible. The other main problem is to get a nice rich, deep flavour into it... for this reason I roasted the aubergines beforehand, used old tricks for incorporating that ol' umami flavour (soy sauce), resorted (technically hypocritically) to half a stock cube, and conveniently stumbled on some dried porcini mushrooms in the cupboard.
Once it was done, and mixed with the pasta, and coated with real parmesan (I'm not vegan... my housemate ate it with a Parmegianno impersonator), aside from the lack of beef, you would be hard pressed to notice the difference in the flavour.
Here goes:
Serves three or four, but add more ingredients as necessary.
Ingredients:
2 x aubergines (or more, if necessary)
nutmeg grindings (grate your own ideally)
two small onions (or one large)
three cloves of garlic
4 (or so) handfuls of red lentils
1 x tin of tomatoes
good squeeze of tomato purée
[or just use a jar of passata instead of tinned tomatoes and tomato purée]
herbs (ideally some fresh basil, and/or fresh oregano and/or fresh thyme... or sod it and use some dried oregano, basil and thyme... or a pot of mixed herbs)
soy sauce (about five drips)
half a vegetable stock cube (or about 200ml of vegetable stock)
half a handful of dried porcini mushrooms (put them in a cup of boiling water for ten minutes and keep the liquid!)
dash of red wine
teaspoon of sugar (lessens the tartness of the tomatoes)
dash of soya milk (gives a creamier texture)
five or six mushrooms
olive oil by the gallon
salt and pepper
and spaghetti, obviously (make sure it is not egg-based pasta, if cooking for vegans)
Method:
1) Preheat the oven to 200 C. Take out an oven dish.
Remove the top and the bottom of the aubergine, and cut lengthways into sixths or eigths.
Place the aubergine segments in the oven dish, inside-up.
Sprinkle some nutmeg over the aubergines, and season. Rub into the flesh.
In your most cheffy manner, drizzle the aubergines with olive oil.
Put them in the oven to roast. Keep an eye on them, and remove when nicely browned (slightly black at the extremities, possibly).
2) Finely dice the onion. Chop the garlic cloves into little specks, or put it through a press if you must.
Heat a couple of tablespoons of the olive oil in a deep frying pan. Add the onion, turn down the heat to medium, and cook for five minutes.
Add the garlic, and cook for two more minutes.
3) Add the lentils and tinned tomatoes (chopping them up if necessary beforehand, or just pummeling them with a sharp knife as long as your pan isn't non-stick).
Add a glassful of water. You will need to keep this topped up with liquid as it will suck up quite a lot. Add the red wine, too, at this stage, if you have your hands free.
4) Meanwhile... the aubergine should be nicely browning. Remove it from the oven, and (taking care, bloody hot) chop it into little cubes. Add this to the sauce. Return to the boil and allow to simmer gently. Putting a lid on the pan helps immensely.
5) Now you have a while to fiddle about, tasting extensively. Put the porcini mushrooms and the stock cube in a cup and add boiling water. Leave this for ten minutes for the mushrooms to soften up.
Add the soy sauce, a little soya milk, the teaspoon of sugar, the dried herbs, and some salt.
[If using fresh basil at the end I would still probably put in dried oregano and thyme at this stage.]
Add the porcini mushroom/stock mix (including the liquid).
7) Chop the normal mushrooms into small cubes and throw those in.
6) Keep the whole thing topped up with water, stir it occasionally... potter about, change the music to Stereolab or something. Maintain this state of affairs for a good hour at least.
Eventually the lentils will soften up quite a lot, the aubergine will break up a little.
Judge the optimum moment, then boil the water for the pasta.
7) As the pasta water comes to the boil, turn up the heat on the sauce and boil it down, stirring constantly. Add a good glug of olive oil and stir like crazy (I quite like doing this for all kinds of things: the sauce sort of fries in the oil as it thickens, giving it a darker colour and richer flavour). By this point it should look pretty convincing bolognese if you allow your eyes to slightly drift out of focus. Give it a good taste, seasoning as appropriate (if you're me, more salt).
If you've got a hand to spare, add the pasta now. If not, shout at someone else to do it.
Whilst the pasta is cooking, add another glug of olive oil if you feel like it. When it is quite thick indeed (slightly thinner than a dhal perhaps, but certainly no watery liquid swilling round). Turn the heat down. Give it a good taste at this point.
8) When the pasta is toothsome, as they say, drain the water and add it to the sauce (not the other way round, for some officious Italian reason I haven't quite understood: I think perhaps you just lose some of the sauce). Stir it all together, toss it with a big wooden fork if you've got one. Encourage mingling in any way you see fit. Don't forget to turn off the stove at this point.
9) Transport to bowls kept well away from white shirts. Sprinkle over some parmesan (or fake) and a grind of black pepper.
Eat with a fork whilst watching University Challenge.
I attempted yesterday to make something that was a convincing Spaghetti Bolognese (without using any kind of vegan mince). Having made some curries a couple of weeks ago that seemed to work well (they thickened nicely, had a good texture, etc), I thought the general idea and base ingredients could be adapted to a bolognese sauce (Ragu): so, aside from tomatoes and all the normal stuff, the sauce is made from (and helpfully thickened by) red lentils and roasted aubergines.
The main problem is, of course, to make it taste and feel (to my beef-eating mouth) like a real bolognese sauce, and not such a mix of vegetables in tomato sauce. In short, aim for a semi-liquid Dhal, and make it taste as Italian as possible. The other main problem is to get a nice rich, deep flavour into it... for this reason I roasted the aubergines beforehand, used old tricks for incorporating that ol' umami flavour (soy sauce), resorted (technically hypocritically) to half a stock cube, and conveniently stumbled on some dried porcini mushrooms in the cupboard.
Once it was done, and mixed with the pasta, and coated with real parmesan (I'm not vegan... my housemate ate it with a Parmegianno impersonator), aside from the lack of beef, you would be hard pressed to notice the difference in the flavour.
Here goes:
Serves three or four, but add more ingredients as necessary.
Ingredients:
2 x aubergines (or more, if necessary)
nutmeg grindings (grate your own ideally)
two small onions (or one large)
three cloves of garlic
4 (or so) handfuls of red lentils
1 x tin of tomatoes
good squeeze of tomato purée
[or just use a jar of passata instead of tinned tomatoes and tomato purée]
herbs (ideally some fresh basil, and/or fresh oregano and/or fresh thyme... or sod it and use some dried oregano, basil and thyme... or a pot of mixed herbs)
soy sauce (about five drips)
half a vegetable stock cube (or about 200ml of vegetable stock)
half a handful of dried porcini mushrooms (put them in a cup of boiling water for ten minutes and keep the liquid!)
dash of red wine
teaspoon of sugar (lessens the tartness of the tomatoes)
dash of soya milk (gives a creamier texture)
five or six mushrooms
olive oil by the gallon
salt and pepper
and spaghetti, obviously (make sure it is not egg-based pasta, if cooking for vegans)
Method:
1) Preheat the oven to 200 C. Take out an oven dish.
Remove the top and the bottom of the aubergine, and cut lengthways into sixths or eigths.
Place the aubergine segments in the oven dish, inside-up.
Sprinkle some nutmeg over the aubergines, and season. Rub into the flesh.
In your most cheffy manner, drizzle the aubergines with olive oil.
Put them in the oven to roast. Keep an eye on them, and remove when nicely browned (slightly black at the extremities, possibly).
2) Finely dice the onion. Chop the garlic cloves into little specks, or put it through a press if you must.
Heat a couple of tablespoons of the olive oil in a deep frying pan. Add the onion, turn down the heat to medium, and cook for five minutes.
Add the garlic, and cook for two more minutes.
3) Add the lentils and tinned tomatoes (chopping them up if necessary beforehand, or just pummeling them with a sharp knife as long as your pan isn't non-stick).
Add a glassful of water. You will need to keep this topped up with liquid as it will suck up quite a lot. Add the red wine, too, at this stage, if you have your hands free.
4) Meanwhile... the aubergine should be nicely browning. Remove it from the oven, and (taking care, bloody hot) chop it into little cubes. Add this to the sauce. Return to the boil and allow to simmer gently. Putting a lid on the pan helps immensely.
5) Now you have a while to fiddle about, tasting extensively. Put the porcini mushrooms and the stock cube in a cup and add boiling water. Leave this for ten minutes for the mushrooms to soften up.
Add the soy sauce, a little soya milk, the teaspoon of sugar, the dried herbs, and some salt.
[If using fresh basil at the end I would still probably put in dried oregano and thyme at this stage.]
Add the porcini mushroom/stock mix (including the liquid).
7) Chop the normal mushrooms into small cubes and throw those in.
6) Keep the whole thing topped up with water, stir it occasionally... potter about, change the music to Stereolab or something. Maintain this state of affairs for a good hour at least.
Eventually the lentils will soften up quite a lot, the aubergine will break up a little.
Judge the optimum moment, then boil the water for the pasta.
7) As the pasta water comes to the boil, turn up the heat on the sauce and boil it down, stirring constantly. Add a good glug of olive oil and stir like crazy (I quite like doing this for all kinds of things: the sauce sort of fries in the oil as it thickens, giving it a darker colour and richer flavour). By this point it should look pretty convincing bolognese if you allow your eyes to slightly drift out of focus. Give it a good taste, seasoning as appropriate (if you're me, more salt).
If you've got a hand to spare, add the pasta now. If not, shout at someone else to do it.
Whilst the pasta is cooking, add another glug of olive oil if you feel like it. When it is quite thick indeed (slightly thinner than a dhal perhaps, but certainly no watery liquid swilling round). Turn the heat down. Give it a good taste at this point.
8) When the pasta is toothsome, as they say, drain the water and add it to the sauce (not the other way round, for some officious Italian reason I haven't quite understood: I think perhaps you just lose some of the sauce). Stir it all together, toss it with a big wooden fork if you've got one. Encourage mingling in any way you see fit. Don't forget to turn off the stove at this point.
9) Transport to bowls kept well away from white shirts. Sprinkle over some parmesan (or fake) and a grind of black pepper.
Eat with a fork whilst watching University Challenge.
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