Georgian feast 1: Piquant beef stew (Khalia)

Scrumptious khalia

The real Georgian feast is the stuff of legend. Long tables groaning with food, wine by the litre and witty toastmasters that lead the drinking with great gusto, pomp and ceremony. Or so I've heard.

I've not yet made it to Georgia, but reading about the cuisine set the pleasure-seeking part of my brain into overdrive. The clear connections with that other great love of mine, Persian cuisine, only added to the mystique and made me want to know more.

It's been a while since Georgian has been on the actual rather than the virtual menu, for no very good reason that I can think of, really. But when I saw beets in my local veggie shop, I knew the time had come to explore this corner of the culinary world again.

My "feast" may be a paltry three dishes, but that's about as good as it gets come dinner time on a weeknight. I hope I will be forgiven.

Khalia is a zesty stew with garlic and lots of fresh herbs, given extra body with walnut pieces. In Georgia, tkmali, a spicy sauce made from sour plums, is a key ingredient. The sauce is hard to come by, and is replaced by tamarind paste in many of the recipes you will find for khalia out there, as it is in this recipe I've adapted for the pressure cooker from Anya von Bremzen's recipe in Please to the T­able: The Russ­ian Cookbook. (If not cooking under pressure, the meat will need to simmer for around 1.5 hours.)

Khalia piquant Georgian beef stew

Serves 4

3 tbsp olive oil
800 g stewing beef, cut into small cubes
3 medium onions, chopped finely
2 tbsp tamarind paste
2 tbsp tomato paste
180 ml hot beef stock
1 tsp hot Hungarian paprika
3/4 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp ground fenugreek
1 tsp dried tarragon
3 large cloves garlic, crushed
1/4 cup walnut pieces, coarsely ground or finely chopped
3 tbsp chopped fresh coriander leaves
pinch of sugar, or to taste

1 Heat the oil in a large pressure cooker over a medium-high heat. Add the beef and onions and cook, stirring, for 15 minutes. The meat will release quite a lot of liquid.

2 Add the tamarind paste, tomato paste and hot stock, together with the paprika, coriander, fenugreek and tarragon. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Seal and bring the pressure cooker up to pressure, lower the heat to low and cook until the meat is very tender, about 45 min, shaking the pressure cooker from time to time to ensure the stew does not catch on the bottom.

3 Stir in the garlic, walnuts and coriander and adjust the seasoning, adding sugar and more spices to taste, if desired. Simmer, covered, without pressure, for 15 minutes longer.

Enjoy!

Khoresht-e rivas: Persian stew with rhubarb, mint and lemon

Persian stew with rhubarb, mint and lemon

When I was a little girl in Scotland, we lived in a big sandstone house with a huuuge back garden (or so it seemed then). Growing in the garden were such things as grow readily in that mostly-dismal climate: gooseberries, potatoes and... rhubarb! As a sneaky treat, we kids would pull off a stalk and "dook it in a poke of sugar". Knowing me, though, I probably ditched the bag of sugar and ate my share au naturel. My passion for sour things goes way back!

Rhubarb is not readily available in Japan and it was years since I'd had it. It has been in the back of my mind, though, as it seems to have been enjoying a surge of popularity in the UK the last few years and my favourite foodie haunts are full of rhubarb recipes. When a translator friend posted pictures on Facebook of rhubarb dishes his wife had made and, better yet, let it be known that she actually has it for sale, I knew my time had come!

And what better reintroduction to rhubarb than this Persian stew, adapted from one in Pomegranates and Roses: My Persian Family Recipes by Ariana Bundy. I bought the book as soon as it came out and it is fast becoming one of my favourite Persian cookbooks. The spicier "Gulf" dishes are especially welcome, as many similar books on Persian cooking tend to focus on the dominant cuisine and skip the regional delights. Better yet, quite a few of the recipes, including this one, are doable on a weeknight!

The khoresh is tart but not too tart, and wonderfully fresh-tasting with all that lovely mint. I prefer to kepps some for garnishing with before serving, but in Iran, they would all be cooked with stew. Watch the rhubarb carefully for doneness. You want the pieces to stay whole and not disintegrate. Mine were ready in less than five minutes after hitting the pot!
Khoresht-e rivas: Persian stew with rhubarb, mint and lemon

Serves 6

1 large onion, chopped into small dice
1 stalk celery, chopped into small dice
1 kg chicken thighs, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 tbsp olive oil
2 cloves garlic
1 tbsp butter
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 tsp brown sugar, or to taste
juice and zest of 1/2 lemon, or to taste
1-1 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp white pepper
25 g fresh mint, finely chopped
150 g flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
650 ml unsalted chicken stock
1 tsp dried mint
750 g rhubarb, cut into 5 cm pieces on the diagonal
1/2 tsp saffron threads ground in a small mortar and dissolved in 2-3 tbsp hot water

1. In a heavy pot over a medium-high heat, heat the olive oil and brown the onion, celery and chicken until the vegetables are golden and the meat is seared--about 10 minutes. Stirring frequently, add the garlic cloves, butter, turmeric, lemon zest and salt and pepper. Stir in 2/3 of the fresh herbs. Cook for about 5 minutes. Add the stock and dried mint. Reduce heat and simmer gently for 20 minutes, stirring from time to time.

2. Add the rhubarb, lemon juice and saffron liquid and bring to the boil, without stirring too much to avoid breaking up the rhubarb. The stew is cooked when the rhubarb is cooked, but not falling apart.

3. Check the seasoning: if it is too tart, add more sugar and if not tart enough, balance it with a little more lemon juice. Scatter over the remaining fresh herbs and serve immediately.

Enjoy!

Reza's Shami (Syrian) kebab

When back in Australia recently (or at least "recently" when I started writing this post (g)), I was bemoaning the time it takes to shop for groceries in the town my parents live in. I mean, aside from the sheer number of options for any given product--yogurt, say--the shop layouts are so much bigger and the massive shopping trolleys so much less manoeuvrable than ours here in Japan. Plus the three supermarkets in town all have different goodies, so you have to visit them all! Saffron Papa's comment: It takes so long because of all the weird and wonderful things you're trying to buy! Touche, I guess.

I was keen to recreate the Shami kebab and jewelled rice meal I'd learned at my Persian cooking class for my dear friends in Australia, but was having trouble getting a couple of the ingredients, namely chickpea flour and dried rose petals (for the jewelled rice). Luckily, being Persian cooking and having a whole lot of flavours going on at one time, we were able to get by without them.
I made these patties with 100% beef in Australia and they had quite a different texture to the beef-pork blend we used in the cooking class. It could be a matter of familiarity, but I actually liked the texture of the blended mince better. In Iran, of course, it would be a lamb/mutton-beef blend.

Saffron Papa and Mama were clean out of dried tarragon, so I used about 2 tbsp of fresh and was pleased with the results. Because I'd omitted the chickpea flour, my meat mixture was quite loose, but a few minutes in the fridge before cooking solved that problem.

These are the brassiest "burgers" I've yet to come across. Definitely recommended, whether with jewelled rice, another Persian rice dish, or just for something a bit interesting at your next barbecue!

Reza's Shami (Syrian) kebab

Makes 4 largish ring-shaped patties

300 g beef, pork or chicken mince
1 onion, chopped finely
3 tbsp chickpea (gram) flour
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 tbsp dried tarragon
1 tsp garlic paste (or crushed garlic)
1 tsp ginger paste
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp ground turmeric
shake of cayenne pepper (optional)
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
grilled cherry tomatoes and soft fresh herbs to garnish

1 In a large bowl, lightly kneed mince, then add the onion, chickpea flour, egg, parsley, tarragon, garlic and ginger pastes, baking powder, turmeric cayenne and salt. Kneed very well until ingredients become pasty.

2 Divide the meat in 4 and form into round patties. Using a finger, open a fairly large whole in the middle of each patty. Make the outside edges of the patties slightly thinner than the ring in the center.

3 Fry or grill on both sides until nicely browned. Serve with grilled cherry tomatoes and soft herbs and rocket.

Enjoy!

Orange khoresh

When winter gets you down, it's good to know that there are always juicy citrus fruits to pep you up. On of my favourite things about the cooking of the Middle East and Iran and Morocco in particular is the combination of citrus and meat.

When I embarked on this voyage into the kitchens of far away places, one of the first things I cooked was a lamb and orange and lamb khoresh (Iranian stew) in Diana Henry's Crazy Water Pickled Lemons. It was a stew heady with the scents of "the Orient": orange flower water, cardamon and mint. Around that time, I started making some Iranian friends. But none of them had heard of an orange khoresh.

Exploring further, I made a lamb, spinach and orange khoresh from Najmieh Batmanglij's New Food of Life. Fabulous!

And now, a version with chicken from Margaret Shaida's The Legendary Cuisine of Persia. Of the three recipes I've tried, this is perhaps the simplest, but just as tasty.

I devoured Legendary Cuisine cover to cover when I got it, but this was my first attempt at any of the recipes. The prose is so lovely, a real paean to the culinary arts of Iran. In contrast with Najmieh-khanom's master work, Legendary Cuisine's recipes are pared back, home-style cooking that you probably could attempt on a weeknight. As such, Legendary Cuisine is a perfect partner to that work.

I reduced the meat in this recipe by half. Only because 2 kg of meat is rather too much for a family of two with too little freezer space as it is. Although you could easily cook this in a pressure cooker, the carrots need pan-frying for almost half an hour, so there is not too much point unless you start with the carrots.

Note that you will be peeling the zest of three oranges. The easiest way to do this is with a vegetable peeler. The prepared peel is then brought to the boil in three changes of water to remove its bitterness. Orange peel prepared in this way keeps very well in the freezer, so it is worth doing extra. I sometimes throw some in with some garlic stir-fried cabbage for an easy side veggie. You can also use it in citrus vinaigrette.

It is worth using the saffron in this recipe. It adds a magical note to this stew. Serve with steamed white rice.

Orange khoresh

Serves 4

1 kg chicken thighs, cut into quarters
2 large onions, finely sliced
1 tsp cinnamon
3 oranges (Seville for preference)
3 large carrots
small pinch saffron threads, ground with a little sugar or salt, and steeped in 1 tbsp boiling water
juice of 1 lemon, or 2 tbsp sugar if using Seville oranges
salt and pepper

2 tsp pistachio slivers
2 tsp almond slivers

1 Wash the chicken pieces and pat dry. In a large pot, heat a little oil and fry the chicken until nicely browned. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.

2 In the same pot, heat a little more oil and fry the onions until soft and golden brown. Stir in the cinnamon, add the chicken and enough water to cover. Cover and simmer gently for 30 min.

3 Scrub the oranges with detergent, rinse well and pat dry. Peel thinly (with a vegetable peeper) and cut skin into julienne strips. Put in a small pot, cover with water, bring to the boil and drain. Repeat twice more and leave to drain.

4 Peel the carrots and cut into julienne strips. In a large frying pan, heat a little oil and fry carrots for around 20 minutes then add to the stew with the orange zest. Simmer for a further 25 min.

5 With a sharp knife, remove the pith from the oranges and the skin from the segments.

6 A few minutes before serving, stir in the saffron water and the lemon juice (or sugar if using Seville oranges) and add the orange segments, reserving a few to garnish

7 Simmer for a minute or two and dish up in a warm bowl. Garnish with almond and pistachio slivers if desired and serve with plain white rice.

Enjoy!

Yogurtlu makarna: Turkish pasta with meat & yogurt-mint sauce

This pasta dish, according to Classical Turkish Cooking author Algar hanim, is a kind of cheats manti, or Turkish ravioli. It is absolutely delectable and super easy. If you are the type that tends to have mint around or even growing in the garden, you'll probably have everything to make this on a total whim. I know I did.

Unlike the Western way with spaghetti bolognese, meat is more of a condiment in this sauce. The real flavour, and it is bold and strident, is in the mint and the garlic. In fact, I would even go so far as to suggest that the recipe name be changed to pasta with meat & yogurt-garlic-mint sauce! If you have any objections at all to raw garlic in food, this may not be the recipe for you. Everyone else gather round, because this is a real treat.

Before you start, get your yogurt out of the fridge as it needs to be at room temperature. Mine wasn't, and didn't get close to it before the pasta was ready, so I actually tossed the pasta-meat mixture with the yogurt sauce in the pan and heated it, very gently, through.

I also bypassed the paprika-butter flourish (so-called by the doyenne of North African and Mediterranean cooking, Paula Wolfert), mainly due to the cost of butter in Japan these days. But I know from my time in Turkey (where I saw butter in logs that must have easily weighed 2 kg!), that toppings like this add a real richness and flavour to a dish. Given the small amount of meat in the dish, I'd say that if butter is not a luxury item in your neighbourhood then you should definitely go for it!

Yogurtlu makarna: Turkish pasta with meat & yogurt-mint sauce

Serves 4

Meat sauce
3 tbsp olive oil
3/4 cup chopped onions
250 g minced meat
1-2 chillies, seeded and finely chopped (optional)
2 sprigs thyme
Handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Yogurt-mint sauce
3 cups yogurt, at room temperature
2-3 tsp crushed garlic
2 tsp fresh mint leaves, finely chopped

450 g penne or rigatoni (S: I used fusili)

Butter paprika topping
5 tbsp butter
3/4 tsp Hungarian paprika
Pinch of cayenne

Fresh mint leaves for garnish

1 To make the sauce, cook the onions in olive oil until soft. Add meat, chillies (if using), thyme, and parsley and brown the meat. Stir in a few tablespoons of water, season with salt and pepper, cover, and simmer 10 minutes, adding more water, if necessary.

2 To make the yogurt-mint sauce, put all ingredients in a bowl and beat with a wooden spoon until the mixture is very creamy. Set aside on a warm spot on the stove.

3 Cook and strain the pasta, and reheat the meat sauce. Toss the pasta with the hot meat sauce and place in a serving bowl. Pour the yogurt-mint sauce over it.

4 For the topping, heat the butter until frothy, add the paprika and cayenne, wait one second, and drizzle it over the yogurt-mint sauce. Sprinkle the top with mint leaves cut into ribbons and serve hot.

Enjoy!

Fruit and nut couscous with chicken

Moroccan inspired, rather than derived, this delightful recipe comes from an unexpected source. I bought Barbecue Bible for Saffron-Papa's birthday some years back after lusting over it for many months myself. I still find its mouth-watering photography and yummy-sounding recipes very enticing, but due to space restrictions at the Saffron household, am content to refer to Saffron-Papa's copy whenever in Australia.

Jam-packed with fruit and aromatic spices and bursting with the zing of lemons, this recipe makes a lovely dinner, whether cooked outdoors or in. The chicken is skewered in the original recipe, but you could just as easily grill or pan-fry it, as the mood takes you.

Fruit and nut couscous with chicken

Serves 8

1 kg skinless chicken breast fillets or leg
4 tbsp olive oil
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground paprika
4 tsp lemon juice

Couscous
8 tbsp olive oil
2 small onions, finely chopped
2 tsp each ground cumin, cinnamon, pepper and ginger
125 g dried dates, chopped
125 g dried apricots, finely chopped
125 blanched almonds, toasted and chopped
1.2 l vegetable stock
375 g couscous
2 tbsp lemon juice
4 tbsp chopped fresh coriander
salt & pepper

To garnish
seeds from half a pomegranate or a handful of dried cranberries
lemon wedges
fresh coriander sprigs

1 Cut the chicken into long thin strips, place them in a shallow dish and add the olive oil, garlic, spices and lemon juice. Stir well, then cover and leave to marinate for 2 hours.

2 To prepare the couscous, heat half of the oil in a saucepan and fry the onion, garlic ans spices for 5 minutes. Stir in the dried fruits and almonds and remove from the heat.
3 Meanwhile, pour the stock over the couscous, cover with a tea towel and leave for 8-10 min, until the grains are fluffed up and the liquid absorbed. Stir in the remaining oil and the fruit and nut mixture, add the lemon juice and coriander and season with salt and pepper to taste.

4 While the couscous is standing, cook the chicken for 4-5 minutes on each side over medium coals, until charred and cooked through. Serve with the couscous, garnished with pomegranate seeds or dried cranberries, lemon wedges and coriander sprigs.

Enjoy!

Claudia's Tunisian meatballs in tomato sauce

It's 6:30 pm on Sunday night and no plan for dinner! What to do? Something easy and tasty, sure, but nothing that's going to take too long and that will require a trip to the supermarket. Thinking quick, I came up with meatballs, something we haven't had for a while, and a dish for which the Middle East has infinite variations.

In the end I went with this one from Claudia Roden's Book of Jewish Food, my all-time favourite cookbook. With a simple tomato sauce, the real flavour in these show-stopping meatballs is in the meatballs themselves. With aromatics like the fiery chilli and garlic paste harissa, garlic, mint, cinnamon and rose, you know you're in for a treat! Made per the recipe, the chilli paste is more warm glow than burn, but feel free to up the harissa if you like.

One interesting technique I learned from this recipe was to blast the meatballs in the oven for a short time before putting them in the sauce. This serves two purposes: (1) the meatballs get browned without the need for turning and inevitably misshaping them, and (2) the excess fat runs into the oven tray rather than your sauce.

If you don't have powdered rosebuds, don't despair. The meatballs will still be fabulous. If you don't have enough tomatoes, either, then use what you have. In my case 1 small tin of tomatoes, some fresh ones, including cherry toms, and a good slug of leftover passata.

The Young Man adored these and asked why we don't have meatballs more often. Well no need to ask twice; there are several dozen meatball recipes in Book alone, and more than enough time to try each one!

Claudia's Tunisian meatballs in tomato sauce

For the meatballs
600 g mince lamb, beef veal (or pork if it is not an issue with you) or a mixture
1 small onion, finely chopped
1/2-3/4 tsp salt
pepper
3 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley or coriander (cilantro)
1 tbsp chopped mint
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp rosebud powder
1/2 tsp harissa, optional

For the tomato sauce
4 cloves garlic, crushed
oil to fry
1 kg tomatoes, peeled and chopped or 1 800 g can of tomatoes, or a mixture of the two
salt and pepper
2 tbsp tomato puree
1-2 tbsp sugar

1 Mix the ingredients for the meatballs and kneed to a soft paste. Make little balls or ovals the size of a small walnut. Place the balls on a baking sheet and roast them for 7 minutes in the oven at 230 C, until slightly coloured.

2 To make the tomato sauce, fry the garlic in a little oil until fragrant. Add the tomatoes, salt, pepper, tomato puree and sugar and simmer for 15 min. The put in the meatballs and simmer another 20 min. Serve with rice.

Enjoy!

Khoresh-e gheimeh

Back in June, I said I'd make my dear Iranian friend Hw his favourite food as a birthday treat, thinking that would be ghormeh sabzi, that glorious dark citrusy stew that I thought was every Iranian's favourite. But no, he wanted gheimeh, something I hadn't quite mastered from the slightly unclear recipe in Najmieh khanom's The New Food of Life. Luckily, St Google offered up many recipes and I decided to go with this one, which I've made metric and adjusted for the pressure cooker.

Gheimeh, a rich, but lightly spiced stew of meat, tomatoes and dried limes, is traditionally served with chips (French fries) on top, but as I'm not one for deep frying, I added the potatoes, quartered, to the stew near the end of the cooking. Hw was fine about this innovation of his favourite dish; but it seems that Iranians are not so keen on potato skins. Next time peeling might be in order (g).

If you make my pressure cooker version, remember that split peas are notorious for getting burnt to the bottom of the pot. Give the pressure cooker a good shake at regular intervals during the cooking time in order to avoid this problem. Also, if you have the choice, use light coloured dried limes (limu Omani) in this dish, as they may break up in the cooking (or when you squeeze the concentrated liquid out of them at the end of the cooking), leaving what otherwise look like burnt scrapings from the bottom of the pan (!) in your lovely stew.

This has to be the easiest Iranian dish I've made yet, but the flavour is quite outstanding, and I'm sure it will become a favourite in this house, too.


Khoresh-e gheimeh

1 kg stewing beef or lamb cut into 2 cm cubes or smaller
1 large onion, finely chopped
2-3 cloves garlic chopped finely (optional, but recommended)
1 x 400 g can whole or crushed tomatoes or use 500 g fresh
1-2 tbsp tomato paste (optional)
1/2 cup yellow split peas
450 g potatoes
3 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
4-5 dried lemons
Lots of vegetable oil for frying

1 Fry the onions in about 2 tbsp of oil over med/high heat till they are lightly golden. Add the meat, raise the heat to high and keep frying till all the juices are absorbed. If you want to add any garlic, it may be added at the same time as the meat.

2 When the juices are absorbed, add the spices (salt, black pepper, turmeric, cinnamon, and cayenne pepper) and fry for a minute or so (don't over-fry). Add the canned tomatoes and bring to a simmer. If you use whole tomatoes, break them into big chunks with your wooden spoon.

3 Add the dried lemons, yellow split peas and about 400 ml water, bring to pressure and turn down the heat. Cook under low pressure, swirling the pot from time to time to prevent sticking, for about 45-50 min, or until the meat is done to your satisfaction (fork tender). If the sauce looks too thin, add the1-2 tbsp tomato paste to thicken it. If the sauce is too thick, add water as needed.

4 Add the potatoes and pressure cook for a further 5 minutes or until the potatoes are tender.

5 When the meat is done, the sauce should be thick. Serve the stew in a large bowl. Serve with hot basmati rice.

Enjoy!

Beans with ocean trout, preserved lemons and rocket

It is a real special occasion to get the opportunity to eat this dish. It has been a favourite of mine for many years, but it contains just one too many of the things that make the Young Man turn up his nose for me to be able to make and actually expect him to eat it. Hopefully you don't have such problems, as this is a truly spectacular medley, despite comprising just a handful of ingredients.

I remember printing this out years ago (my printout is well spattered and grease-stained--always a good sign), but forgot where. Happily, it is still on the Net, and wouldn't you know it, it's from my food hero Nigel!

Nigel's version is for flageolet beans and salmon, but I've substituted soy beans and ocean trout, which I reckon is even better. I've also made this with white beans and chickpeas, and spinach instead of rocket (which goes by the name arugula in other parts, apparently) before, so feel free to ring the changes yourself. It is what Nigel would tell you himself.

If you have a stash of pre-cooked pulses in the freezer, you can have this on the table in minutes. Just don't forget to reheat your beans beforehand, to kill off any lurking bacteria. If you have a pressure cooker and remember to soak your beans before going out to work, you'll still be tucking in in no time. Soy beans take around 3 1/2 minutes to cook under pressure. I'll leave Nigel's full instructions here, in case neither of these options are available to you.

Soy beas with ocean trout, preserved lemons and rocket

Serves 2 as a main dish

150g dried soy beans
6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
couple of bay leaves (optional)
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
half a preserved (pickled) lemon
a loosely cupped handful of coriander leaves
300g ocean trout fillet (the tail is good here)
2 small bunches (about 100g) rocket leaves

Rinse the beans - they can be dusty - and check them over for any small stones, then soak overnight in cold water. They will need a good five or six hours to plump up. Drain, then tip into a deep pan of furiously boiling water, but adding no salt - it would make them tough. Cook for 10 minutes or so at a fierce boil - a habit that is supposed to stop them from giving you wind later on - then turn them down to a rolling boil. I put a little olive oil and a couple of bay leaves in at this point for no other reason than that it makes the kitchen smell good as they cook.

If the water gets low, top it up from the kettle. The time the beans will take to cook is anyone's guess - much will depend on their age. At this time of year they are certain to be last year's harvest, so they will need at least 40 minutes (mine took an hour yesterday). New-season's dried beans that appear in the autumn should be tender in 20 minutes.

A tender bean will squash easily between your fingers, but the best way is to taste them.

Put the salmon on a dish or grill pan and rub it lightly with oil, then cook it under an overhead grill for 10 minutes or so till the flesh is just opaque.

To make the dressing, add the vinegar to the oil in a large mixing bowl, a grind of salt and pepper (remember that the lemon will be salty), then finely chop the lemon and roughly chop the coriander leaves and add them both to the oil and vinegar. Pull the fish from its skin in fat chunks - I think bigger pieces are more attractive in a salad - and add them to the dressing. No need to toss it yet.

Drain the beans (you can get them ready early in the day and shake them in a little seasoned olive oil while they are warm), then toss them gently with the salmon and dressing. Try not to break up the fish.

Pick the rocket over, discarding anything that is not in good nick, then fold the leaves tenderly into the salad and serve in the next half hour or so, before the leaves wilt in the dressing. Serves 2 as a main dish.


Enjoy!

Khoresh-e esfenaj-o alu: Persian stew of chicken, spinach and golden plums

My dear friend G was kind enough to bring me back sour Iranian plums (alu zard) from his recent travels back to Iran. And not just the tart golden plums that I know and love, but another darker variety, too! Naturally I wanted to make this brilliant stew (also a favourite of my dear friend H's) for him first up, but wouldn't you know it, he already had plans for the weekend!

Still, I couldn't quite let go of the idea of having this simple but flavourful treat from Najimieh Batmanglij's fabulous New Food of Life for dinner, and since another Iranian friend, Hw, sounded like he could do with a taste of home, he came to help us make a dent in the huge potful that the recipe makes. (Note to G and H: it's first come first served on the stash I have tucked away in the freezer (g).)

If you are not lucky enough to have an Iranian friend willing to fill his suitcase with dried fruit from back home (and the dried fruit in Iran is some of the best in the world so this is something you might want to rectify(g)), the good news is you can make this stew with prunes as well.

If you are new to Persian food, you might want to use less fruit the first time you make this, to give your palate time to adjust to the the fruit and meat combination that is so characteristic of the cuisine. I used less as well, and but won't next time, as the plums had mostly disintegrated into the sauce by the time the stew was finished cooking. I seem to remember them staying whole the last time I made this, so I will experiment with putting this variety in later in the cooking time next time.

Also, I didn't faff about steaming the spinach before adding it to the stew. I suppose this would release the juice and reduce the volume in order to get it all in the pot, but since I like my spinach to have a little body (g) and as I was using less of it to begin with (3 Japanese bunches or around 600 g and not 2.7 kg as directed), I managed to cram it all in the pot in one go.

For a change, I made the khoresh with "wingsticks" (wing drum sticks), for the extra flavour from the bones. You should up the weight of meat in this case (maybe 200 g extra).

I also didn't have any Seville orange juice, so used orange juice sharpened with lime juice as Najmieh khanom recommends.

This stew can be on the table far quicker than the recipe suggests. If you make it with chicken and use a pressure cooker you could probably get it on the table in around 40 minutes.

Khoresh-e esfenaj-o alu: Persian stew of chicken, spinach and golden plums

3 large onions, peeled and thinly sliced
1 kg chicken legs, cut up, or 500 g stew meat, cut into 2 cm cubes
1/3 cup oil
1 1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 tsp turmeric
1 kg fresh spinach
3 cups golden plums (alu zard), or pitted prunes
1 tbsp sugar (optional)
1/4 cup fresh orange juice and 2 tbsp fresh lime juice [S: this is in lieu of Seville orange juice]

1 In a large pot or pressure cooker, brown 2 of the onions and meat or chicken in 3 tbsp oil. Add salt, pepper and turmeric. Pour in water - 1 1/2 cups for chicken, or 2 1/2 cups for meat. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes for chicken or 45 minutes for meat over low heat.

2 Steam the spinach in a steamer for 10 to 15 min.

3 In a skillet, brown the remaining onion, then add the spinach and saute for another 2 minutes.

4 Add the spinach and onion mixture, golden plums, sugar and orange and lime juices to the pot. Cover and simmer 1 1/2 hours longer over low heat.

5 Check that the meat is cooked. Taste the stew and adjust seasoning.

6 Serve hot with chelow, saffron-steamed rice.

Enjoy!

The YM's favourites 2: Classic Salisbury steak with mushrooms

There are ingredients that you can't get here in Japan and, surprisingly, horseradish cream is one of them. So I always slip a jar of the stuff in the suitcase on the way back from visits to Oz. Until now, the customs officers at Narita have mainly been concerned that I might be smuggling porn into the country (yup, even with the Young Man in tow!), and bringing food in has not been a problem. It seems that after a slew of food scandals, the lovely people at customs are now clamping down a bit on food, so I wonder how long I'll get away with the horseradish (and the cheese and the dried fruit and the nuts and the...)

So, horseradish is a bit of a luxury, which only gets a showing on two occasions: with a nice gingered steak, and in this all-time favourite of the YM's, Salisbury steak.

Never having visited the US, you'll forgive me for knowing nothing about the said "steak", which is not a steak in my dialect of English at all, but an authentic super-sized hamburger. Wikipedia informs us that in its country of origin, the Salisbury steak moniker is often reserved for such mega-patties that are served with "gravy" (ie an integral sauce made from the pan juices). Otherwise, their known as Hamburg steaks. Fair enough. This dish also seems to be the inspiration for the Japanese Hamburg steak (or hamubaagu for short in Japanese), which is a staple in these parts. (I'd often wondered why this was called a "steak", but put it down a weird translation thing from the English to the Japanese).

So, what's so good about this version? Well, a Japanese hamubaagu is usually topped with tinned demi-glace sauce, which is okay, I suppose, but where I grew up, steak (as in the big slab of meat) is always served with onions and mushrooms, and for variety, sometimes even an onion and mushroom sauce (!) (I'm a bit loathe to call it a "gravy" as it seems to be in the US). This is a fine interpretation of that.

And its secret ingredient is none other than horseradish cream.

This recipe is from Saving Dinner the Low-Carb Way by Leanne Ely (who I've mentioned before). I have altered it slightly. (1) Prepare your cornflour/cornstarch in advance. Before you start, blend 2 tsp of cornflour with just a little more of water. Let this sit while you cook. The cornflour will sink, and when you are ready for it just scoop the cornflour out -- it will "bunch together" then liquefy again and run from your fingers into the pan -- saving you from making the sauce too watery. Chinese restaurants use this method, and no one would call them slouches in the sauce-thickening department, would they? (2) Really work the meat, lifting it and slamming it against the bowl until it is paste like. This breaks down and distributes the fat, giving a nicer finish.

I served this with caramelised onions and sauteed spinach with ginger, garlic and soy sauce. You may want more veggies, but these are big patties so we didn't need anything else.

Classic Salisbury Steak

2 tsp cold water
2 tsp cornstarch [S: aka cornflour]
450 g extra lean beef mince [S: regular mince is fine too; you need the fat to fry the onions]
1 onion, finely chopped
2 tbsp whole-wheat bread crumbs
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 tbsp horseradish cream
salt & pepper to taste
1 tbsp vegetable oil, divided
1 can beef broth [S: I've no idea how much is in a "can" of broth, so I just eyeball it; maybe 200 ml)
3 cups mushrooms, sliced

In a small bowl, mix the cornflour and water and set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the next 6 ingredients, mixing thoroughly and working into a paste, then shape into 4 oval patties. Make a slight indentation in the middle of each oval with your fingers to help the patties cook evenly.

In a frying pan over medium heat, heat oil [S: may not be necessary if not using lean beef] until hot and place patties in the pan. Cook about 7 to 8 minutes or until no longer pink and juices run clear, turning just once. Remove patties from skillet and keep warm.

In the same skillet, saute mushrooms till soft. Remove mushrooms and add broth, using a wire whisk to scrape up the browned bits off the bottom of the pan. Allow broth to simmer until slightly reduced. Scoop up the cornstarch and add to broth mixture and cook over medium heat (it needs to simmer) for 3 to 5 minutes or until thickened. Add back the mushrooms [S: and the juices that will have leaked from the steaks] and stir well, serving the mushroom gravy over patties.

Enjoy!

The YM's favourites 1: Gingered steak & "French" potato salad

The Young Man of the house is shortly to take his annual trip back to Australia for the summer holidays, so I think I will spoil him a bit by making all his favourite meals before he goes. Who knows, maybe the recipes will spur his dear Grandparents to give some of them a go while he's there. Or maybe the YM might surprise them by giving one of them a go himself!

The marinade in this recipe comes from Brilliant Barbecues, a book I've had for years, but never progressed much beyond this one idea. Which is a shame really, as there are a great many more enticing recipes within its covers. (On checking out the publishing details, it transpires that none other than Donna Hay did the food styling for this work. Is their no pie the lady has not had her finger in??)

We don't eat a lot of steak here, as meat is quite expensive (although less so now that a new fresh food-focused supermarket has taken over the spot vacated by the old "discount" supermarket. Not sure how that one works, but I'm certainly not complaining), but when we do, it invariably gets a soak in this very fine marinade first. Now, I know some people are not fond of fresh ginger, and the YM also ranks in their numbers, but somehow this always hits the spot with him, and I am not "allowed" to make steak any other way! So even if you're not a huge fan of ginger, I urge you to give this a go. It really is special.

With the slightly thinner steaks we get in Japan, a couple of hours is plenty of time to marinate in this super tenderizing mixture. Much more than that and the meat will start to fall apart!

The potatoes are an old signature dish of mine from my pre-Middle East gourmet days. The recipe is from Mary Berry's Complete Cookbook (mentioned earlier), but I think of it as my own now as I can make it blindfolded by now.

It is called French potato salad, but when I've taken it to the annual H&H picnic, which is usually attended by at least one French person, I can't say it has elicited an "It tastes just like home" responses (g). The original recipe slathers the pots in both vinaigrette dressing and mayonnaise. It's certainly good that way, but just as often I'll need it in a hurry before it cools enough for the mayo. Either way, I call it yum!

Ginger marinade

2 spring onions, finely chopped
2 tsp finely grated ginger
1 tsp crushed black peppercorns
60 ml Japanese soy sauce
2 tbsp (2 1/2 tbsp if using non-Australian measuring spoons) brown sugar
2 tbsp (see above) sake or dry sherry

Mix ingredients and marinate meat for around 2 hours.

French potato salad

Vinaigrette dressing:
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/2--1 tsp lemon juice
1/2 tbsp Dijon or seeded mustard
salt and pepper to taste

450 g potatoes, small new potatoes for preference
1/4 onion or 3 spring onions, chopped very finely
2-3 tbsp mayonnaise, or to taste (optional)

Make the vinaigrette by shaking ingredients together in a clean jar.

Scrub the potatoes and cut into bite-sized chunks. Boil in salted water until tender. Drain well and return to the heat briefly to evaporate the last of the moisture. Shaking the pan a little to fluff the potatoes will help them absorb the dressing. While still hot, add the onions or spring onions and around half the vinaigrette dressing (or to taste) and toss well to coat. When cool, add the mayonnaise, if desired.

Enjoy!

Khoresh-e bademjan: Iranian eggplant stew

You know, young people can be funny about food. Sometimes you win with them; sometimes you lose. When you're a bit of a magpie about cooking like me, you learn to take your chances and try not to take any resistance to heart. I guess I was expecting a little turbulence from the Young Man on this tangy Iranian stew/casserole on account of it being chock-full of lovely pan-fried eggplants.

But it must have been my lucky day, as he wolfed this right down and put in orders to get his packed lunch the next day in a Thermos so it would be nice and hot! That's always a thumbs-up in our house.

If you make this recipe to specification, you'll need 3 large onions. I made it on the spur of the moment, and could only spare 2 out of my week's supply. That's why there's none on the topping in the photo.

Although you can't tell from the photo, this khoresh is meat based. The recipe calls for the meat to be cut in 1 cm cubes. This is much smaller than I generally make it, but it does have the added benefit of speeding the cooking time considerably. As always, I did it in my pressure cooker, and 10 minutes under pressure was fine for beef. You may want to cook the eggplants until they are lusciously soft, as they won't cook much more in the oven. Actually, I reckon it might not even be necessary to put this in the oven at all. A few more minutes in the pressure cooker and you'd probably be laughing.

If you are new to Iranian cooking, this would be an easy entry. The flavour is mild, with a nice citrus-y tang (which would probably be more pronounced if I had access to sour unripe grapes).

If you can, do seek out Iranian lime juice as it has a totally different flavour to the limes we get in the West (and the Mexican ones we get in Japan).

The recipe calls for a lot of oil for frying, but I didn't use nearly as much as specified and all was well.

Next time, I think I would give the stew a final blast on high heat to reduce the sauce a little before putting it in the oven. But perhaps you are meant to have a great deal of sauce in this khoresh. Certainly, it has a lovely flavour. The YM gave this 5 stars, so you know it's another fine treat from Najmieh khanom's New Food of Life.

Koresh-e bademjan: Iranian eggplant stew

2 large onions, peeled and thinly sliced
2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
1 kg lamb shanks or chicken legs with skin removed, cut up
1/2 cup oil
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp ground saffron dissolved in 4 tbsp hot water
2 cups fresh squeezed tomato juice
1 cup unripe grapes (ghureh)
4 tbsp lime juice [S: Iranian, if possible; the flavour is quite different]
3 medium of 9 slim eggplants　[S: I used 5 Japanese eggplants, but more would have been better]
1 tsp advieh (Persian spice mix)

Garnish
1 large onion, peeled and thinly sliced
1 large tomato, peeled and left whole
2 tbsp oil

1 In a non-stick Dutch oven, brown the onions and garlic with meat or chicken in 3 tbsp oil over medium heat. Add salt, pepper, turmeric, and saffron water.

2 Add 2 cups water for meat and no water for chicken, tomato juice, unripe grapes, and lime juice. Cover and simmer over low heat for 2 1/2 hours for meat or 30 minutes for chicken [S: or 10 min under pressure if using a pressure cooker].

3 Peel eggplants and cut lengthwise in quarters if they are large. Place in a colander, sprinkle both sides with water and 2 tbsp salt, and set aside for 2o minutes to remove the bitter taste. Rinse and pat dry.

4 Brown the eggplant on all sides in a non-stick skillet in 3 tbsp oil [S: I recommend you fry them until quite tender]; set aside.

5 Add advieh to the meat or chicken; mix well and adjust the seasoning to your taste.

6 For the garnish, brown the onion and tomato in a non-stick skillet in 2 tbsp oil; set aside.

7 Preheat the oven to 200 C. Transfer the chicken or meat and sauce into a deep ovenproof casserole; arrange the eggplant, then onion and tomato, on the top. Cover and bake for 30 min, then remove cover and bake another 15 minutes uncovered or until the eggplant is tender.

8 Serve with chelo (saffron-steamed rice).

Enjoy!

Indulging in India 4: Balti chicken in tamarind sauce

Now here's a great recipe that's full of flavour, even if you choose to leave out the chillies, as we must here if we want the Young Man to eat up his dinner like a good young human male (g).

It's another from India's 500 Best Recipes, which has an entire section on "Balti" cuisine. What's Balti cuisine? Glad you asked, because that makes at least two of us who didn't know!

A bit of Googling revealed that Balti is not actually Indian, but a made-in-Britain invention of (probably) Pakistani immigrants. The style is not so much based on any one regional cuisine, but more to do with the method: one-pot cooking. Sounds like just the ticket for a weeknight when you don't want a pile of dishes the height of Everest to scale after a hard day at work and in front of the cooker (g). (Yes, there are parts of the first world where electric appliances don't do your dishes for you. Imagine that!)

So, given it's a weeknight, you probably don't want a recipe with a list of ingredients as long as your arm. Rest assured, most of this list is spices, and you will have most of them anyway, if you cook any Indian at all. Most of us will certainly have the first surprising ingredient: tomato sauce. Hmmm. Guess we don't need much more than this to confirm the non-subcontinental origin of this recipe (g).

I used black sesame seeds in this, as they are what I have in the house at the moment. Here in Japan, we can get not only black and white sesame seeds, but black and white sesame paste (tahini) as well. Black sesame seeds have been roasted to darken them, and have a lovely deep fragrant nuttiness that you don't really get with their paler siblings. I thought they were brilliant in this dish, even though they gave it a fairly dark hue when combined with the poppy seeds. As always, you get to choose what you put in yours.

Tamarind is a flavour I absolutely adore. You will want a really nice tart tamarind paste in this one. If yours isn't so sharp, you can always add some lemon juice to bring the "sauce" to your desired level of piquancy.

Talking of tamarind, my dear Iranian friend, M, who is a bit of a magician when it comes to pulling amazing food rabbits out of her hat, produced some tamarind pods to my great delight the last time I visited. They were sent from back home (Iran), where they are all the rage at the moment, apparently, but the box said product of Thailand. I must get me some of those!! (This is the same M that once, when I mentioned a wish to one day try those Iranian "sweet lemons" I had heard so much about, whizzed off to the fridge, and ta-taaaa, miraculously brought back my bidding and the admonishment to maybe wish for something a bit more financially rewarding next time!!)

Finally, although it's not mentioned in the name, coconut is a primary flavour in this dish. With the sesame and poppy seeds, you've got lots of different textures going on in this one, which should be pleasing to many palates.

Oh, and you could just as easily cook this in the oven, browning the chicken in a flameproof casserole before throwing the whole thing into a 200 degree Celsius oven for 20 minutes or so, depending on the size of chicken pieces you are using.

Balti chicken in tamarind sauce

Serves 4-6

60 ml/ 4 tbsp tomato ketchup
15 ml/ 1 tbsp tamarind paste
60 ml/ 4 tbsp
7.5 ml/ 1.5 tsp chilli powder
7.5 ml/ 1.5 tsp salt
15 ml/ 1 tbsp granulated sugar
7.5 ml/1.5 tsp grated fresh root ginger
7.5 ml/ 1.5 tsp crushed garlic
30 ml/ 2 tbsp desiccated coconut
30 ml/ 2 tbsp sesame seeds
5 ml/ 1 tsp poppy seeds
5 ml/ 1 tsp cumin
7.5 ml/ 1.5 tsp ground coriander
2 x 450 g baby chickens, skinned and cut into 6-8 pieces each [S: no "baby chickens here, so I substituted 800 g wing sticks]
75 ml/ 5 tbsp oil [S: you can get away with much less, if you like]
120 ml/ 8 tbsp curry leaves [S: my small packet of dried curry leaves doesn't even contain that much so I just added a 5-fingered pinch]
2.5 ml/1/2 tsp onion seeds [S: I substituted half a small onion, finely sliced. Not the same thing at all, but a worthy addition]
3 large dried red chillies
2.5 ml/ 1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds [S: I substituted powder and it was fine; seeds are on my list for the next visit to my favourite spice shop in Ueno]
10-12 cherry tomatoes
45 ml/ 3 tbsp chopped fresh coriander
2 fresh green chillies, chopped

1 Put the tomato ketchup, tamarind paste and water into a large mixing bowl and use a fork to blend everything together. Add the chilli powder, salt, sugar, ginger, garlic. coconut, sesame and poppy seeds, cumin and coriander to the mixture. Stir to mix. Add the chicken pieces and stir until they are well coated. Set aside.

2 Heat the oil in a karahi, wok, or deep pan. Add the curry leaves, onion seeds, dried red chillies, and fenugreek seeds and fry for about 1 minute.

3 Lower the heat to medium and add 2 or 3 chicken pieces at a time, with their sauce, mixing as you go. When all the pieces have been added, stir well using a slotted spoon.

4 Simmer gently for about 12-15 minutes, or until the chicken is thoroughly cooked. Finally, add the tomatoes, fresh coriander and green chillies, and serve from the pan.

Enjoy!

Indulging in India 1: Punjabi chhole (Spicy Punjabi chickpeas)

I suddenly had a taste for Indian last week, but since the weekly menu is decided on Saturdays, it had to wait till the weekend to act on the urge. In the meantime, I replied to an ad from someone offering to teach me Indian cooking, and also received some good pointers on Indian food from someone who has been kind enough to leave comments here a couple of times. P has real insider knowledge of the subject, from cooking Indian for her family all these year; she also tells me she went so far as to teach herself Tamil. Now that is dedication of a higher order. Way to go!

Anyway, I was raring to go with Indian come Saturday, but unfortunately slacked off a bit during the day and hadn't done the weekly grocery shopping. Step in The Indian Kitchen (the link is to the new edition) by Monisha Bharadwaj, an information-packed, fascinating and hunger-inducing tour of the Indian store cupboard, spice tray and harvest basket, with chapters on each individual ingredient that include showcase recipes. It's one of those books you want to read as much as to cook from. As for me, it will save me the ignominy of not knowing my channa dhal from my urad dhal, which is not a good look in a purported foodie, I can tell you (g).

As it happens I had everything I needed for this recipe without going shopping, so this recipe looked like a good place to start.

Now, I couldn't begin to advise on the pronunciation of "chhole", but I can tell you that this recipe is definitely a keeper. In simple terms, it is nothing more than chickpeas in rich and fragrant tomato gravy. But oh the taste! And even if you don't put the chillies in (as I did; I did want the YM to eat some, after all (g)), you will still end up with a delight, and you can always add some chilli powder at the table. Then again, if you want no heat at all (we know some of that type, don't we, Saffron-Mama (g)), you might want to watch the garam masala, which can sometimes have quite a bite.

The two ingredients that normal people without spice fetishes may not have on hand are amchur (dried mango powder) and anardana (dried pomegranate seeds). Actually I didn't have the latter, either, so substituted pom molasses . Both the amchur and anardana serve to sharpen the flavour, so at a pinch you could probably just add some lime or lemon juice to taste. I won't tell, if you don't (g).

(On the subject of pomegranates, I'm fascinated by the similarity of the name in different languages: Nar (Persian), anar (Turkish), and now anardana (mystery Indian language). What's the bet that the fruit is "anar" and "dana" means seeds?? Completely by coincidence, "anar" also appears backwards in our own English word, whose etymology is pome and granate ("many-seeded pome"). )

But enough of that, already! On with the cooking.

Punjabi chhole: Spicy Punjabi chickpeas

300 g white chickpeas [S: India also has black ones, hence the specification], soaked in plenty of water
6 tbsp sunflower oil [S: you can reduce this, as I did]
1 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp asafoetida [S: this is also known as hing; it's that smelly powder that adds a lovely savory note to cooking]
3 onions, chopped finely
1 tsp ginger paste [S: grated ginger is fine]
1 tsp garlic paste [S: crushed garlic is fine; around 1 to 1 1/2 cloves]
1 tsp green chillies, shredded finely
150 g tomatoes, chopped finely [S: Tinned is fine]
1 tsp chilli powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp mango powder [S: amchoor; I reckoned it could do with more and added another tsp]
1 tsp garam masala powder
1 tsp pomegranate seeds (anardana), crushed [S: I substituted 1 tsp pomegranate molasses]
salt
4 tbsp coriander leaves
4 lemon wedges

1 Cook the chickpeas, in enough water to cover them, until they are soft. (The peas should retain their shape.)

2 In a separate pan, heat the oil and add the cumin seeds and asafoetida. When the seeds pop, add the onion, ginger and garlic pastes and green chillies. Fry until golden.

3 Add the tomatoes and fry. Mash as you stir, making a paste. Then add the chilli, turmeric, mango and garam masala powders and pomegranate seeds {S: or molasses]. Cook this paste until blended and brown.

4 Add the chickpeas with the cooking water and blend, mashing a few to thicken the gravy. Simmer and season with salt.

5 Serve garnished with coriander leaves and a lemon wedge for each portion.

Enjoy!

Kofta Mishmisheya: Iraqi meatballs in apricot sauce

I had some dried apricots left from my trip to Turkey last summer, and, having managed to acquire some more from Tehran Shop, decided to use up the last of my little stash of these divine little treats. I thought I remembered a Georgian (was it?) dish in Claudia Roden's The New Book of Middle Eastern Food, which was one of my very first ME cookbook acquisitions. However, in all the hundreds of recipes, I didn't find the one I was trying to recall (perhaps it is in Najmieh khanom's Silk Road Cooking instead?). Anyway, I found this easy-looking recipe in The Book of Jewish Food, Claudia's other major work of a lifetime (which I hope you will give in and just buy, already (g); it is absolutely the best world cookbook, even for gentiles like me, and one I would love to see emulated by authorities of other cuisines).

Anyway, although this is a Jewish recipe, I used beef/pork mince, Turkish apricots and Iranian ground dried limes, thereby disrespecting all traditions in equal measure, I'm afraid. However, since it is all in the pursuit of good taste, I hope I'll be forgiven.

As it was my first time to make this dish, I made it pretty much to specification. I did feel that the the spicing was a little subtle for me (I like big, bold flavours, after all), and next time I'll probably double the dried lime, and maybe even add some bread soaked in water and squeezed out, as I really like what happens to meatballs when you do this (probably a slice and a half of bread for this much meat). Incidentally, you can check the spicing of your meatballs by frying a little taste up before you commit to rolling your balls. I know on good authority that professional chefs do this all the time. I also upped the lemon juice (but I'm like that (g)).

All in all this was very easy and a nice change from the show-off Middle Eastern stuff I usually cook (g).

As an aside, I realize all my Iraqi recipes are Jewish, so to balance things up a bit, I'm thinking of buying this title. (I know, I know, I'm not supposed to be buying more cookbooks, but the one I've had on order since before Christmas is out of print. Surely I can replace it with this one until that title is reprinted, no? (g). I'm incorrigible, I know...)

Kofta mishmisheya

Serves 4

1 large onion, chopped
3-4 tbsp oil
750 g minced lamb [S: or other meat]
1-2 tbsp ground dried lime [if grinding your own, use the pale dried limes, or limu, that you can get in Middle Eastern/Persian stores]
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp allspice
salt and pepper
3-4 tbsp tomato paste
200 g dried apricots, soaked in water for 1/2 hour [S: Make sure these are not sweetened ones or your sauce will be more of a jam (g)]
3-4 tbsp currants or raisins [S: I used sultanas, same difference]
juice of 1 or 1 1/2 lemons or to taste
1 tsp sugar [S: I didn't think it needed it; you judge for yourself]

In a large frying pan, fry the onion in oil till golden. With your hands, work the meat into a paste with the dried lime, cloves, allspice, 1 tsp of salt and pepper and roll into walnut-sized balls. Add them to the pan and cook, turning them to brown them all over. [S: Depending on the amount of fat in the meat, you may want to drain some off at this point.] Stir in the tomato paste, add the drained apricots [S: I sliced them first] and the currants or raisins and cover with water [S: I used the water the apricots soaked in]. Simmer for about 25 minutes. Add lemon juice and sugar and a little salt and pepper and simmer for another 20 minutes.

Enjoy!

Ingriyi: Iraqi sweet and sour meat and aubergine

When I was but a stamen in the bud of the family crocus, Saffron-Papa was in the habit of making lazy Sunday dinners that would get started around 3 pm and eaten 3 or 4 hours later.

Often it would be a big pot of soup, or a roast or what have you, that he would get started early and leave to do its thing, popping back in from time to time only to check its progress as the afternoon wore on. He could enjoy the motor racing or whatever the sport of the day was, and produce something very tasty for dinner--without breaking into a sweat.

These days we call it Slow Food, and if anyone had suggested then that one day I might like nothing better than puttering about the kitchen producing a meal that might take hours to reach perfection, I would have wondered if they were delirious.

However, it seems that genes do sometimes have their way, and now it is my turn to pass on the lazy Sunday supper tradition.

I've made the recipe below several times now, but the first time I made it was the weekend after "shock and awe". It was a little act of solidarity with the people of Iraq as their country was invaded by the US and its hangers on, such as the countries of my birth and later residence. Not one of our finest moments. At that point I did not have a lot of Iraqi music (I'm still open to recommendations, if anyone has any. Hint, hint (g)), so I cranked up a classic Antipodean protest song by the cult band Midnight Oil, which starts with the line: "US forces give the nod/ It's a setback for your country". As protests go, mine was decidedly ineffectual, but I did learn a new dish and gain an appreciation for the culinary arts of a country unlucky enough to be in the cross-hairs of the US.

This is another recipe from Claudia Roden's masterpiece The Book of Jewish Food, where she tells us that it "became the traditional festive and Sabbath dish of the Bombay [Jewish] community, which was formed in a great part by Jews from Iraq." Well that's not so surprising I suppose, since lamb and tamarind are staples in India, too.

Anyway, it is the perfect dish for one of those lazy Sunday afternoons we were talking about earlier. The only thing that requires any close watching is the caramelising of the onions and frying of the eggplant [aubergine], which you can do at the same time, anyway.

I cook the meat under low pressure for around 40 minutes, which is plenty of time to sort the onions and eggplant.

I would also suggest adding a little more tamarind paste (say half a tablespoon) for extra oomph.

Ingriyi

Serves 8 or more

1.25 kg lamb or beef, cubed
salt
2 large aubergines, weighing about 1 kg, cut into 1.25 cm slices
1 kg onions, sliced [S: 3-4 large onions]
sunflower oil for frying
1.25 kg large tomatoes, peeled and sliced [S: thickly; say 4-5 large tomatoes]
pepper
2 tbsp tamarind paste
1-2 tbsp sugar, or to taste

Simmer the meat in water to cover with a little salt for 1 1/2-2 hours, until tender [S: about 40 minutes under low pressure].

Sprinkle the aubergine slices with salt and leave for 1 hour to draw out their juices.

Fry the onions in 3 tbsp of oil over low heat till very soft and really brown, which gives them a caramelized taste [S: adding a pinch of salt to the onions is supposed to speed the caramelising process].

Rinse and dry the aubergine in a tea towel, then fry briefly in very hot oil [S: I slice the eggplant fairly thick, so it is better to fry them over medium heat until tender as they don't cook much more in the oven], turning over once, until lightly browned. Alternatively, you can brush the slices with oil and cook them under the grill [S: perhaps in other countries with grills larger than 2 slices of toast... (g)].

In a [deep] baking dish, assemble layers of aubergine slices, drained meat (keep the stock), onions and tomatoes, sprinkling each with a little salt and pepper.

Heat about 250 ml of the meat stock in a small pan and stir in the tamarind and sugar. When the paste has dissolved, pour evenly over the layers. Bake at 180 C for 30-40 minutes. Serve hot with rice.

Enjoy!

Birthday cook-up round up 2: Doro wat & injera

Photo courtesy of Lea at Aloha Mahalo.

A few years ago, the YM and I went to an African Fair organized by JETRO, the Japan External Trade Organization. It was a great event, a sort of trade fair cum tourist promotion cum concert cum fashion show. While we were doing the rounds, we bumped into one of the YM's classmates and her guardian and decided to have lunch together.

There were at least 20 food stalls, so the hardest thing was deciding what to eat! In the end I went for doro wat, the Ethiopian chicken stew, with injera--an Ethiopian "bread"-- rather than rice. As I remember it, the first taste of the stew nearly brought tears to my eyes it was so hot, but deeply flavourful and slightly tart, too. The injera, which looked and tasted to me more like a buckwheat (as in Japanese soba noodles) pancake than a bread, was a sharply lemony revelation. Right up my alley! By now, you probably know me well enough to know I wasn't going to sit still until I had tracked down the recipe.

I immediately ordered The Africa Cookbook: Tastes of a Continent from Amazon, but was disappointed that it did not have a recipe for doro wat. So the Ethiopian project got put on the back burner for a while.

However, some culinary Googling got me a recipe for injera, which in Ethiopia, it seems, takes the place of your table cloth and plate, with whatever dishes you may be having served right on top. I chose this recipe because it has lemon in it, and there is no way you could get the sour taste that really got my tastebuds going without it, I think, even though it is not in the authentic version, apparently.

A recipe for doro wat was not far behind, at an amazing Net resource for all things culinary from the African continent, The Congo Cookbook. I also found an adapted-for-Japan recipe on a site by a Japanese blogger who's even more of a gastro-explorer than me (!!), one Shin-san at Eline Saglik. If you can read Japanese, his food blog is a veritable treasure chest of recipes from virtually every corner of the world. I found his amazing site when looking for stockists (or another recipe) for berbere, the ubiquitous fire powder that gives Ethiopian cooking a kick. He has a recipe for the spice mix here.

Anyway, back to the injera. I know that it is customarily made with a flour called teff, but am not sure if the buckwheaty taste and colour of the version I tried at the African Fair was the result of substituting buckwheat flour for the teff, or whether this teff does actually taste like buckwheat. But given that the YM and I recently took a little trip to a hot spring in Nagano, Japan's buckwheat central, I naturally had to have some fresh buckwheat flour in my first go at injera. The type I bought, however, was white, which resulted in snowy white injera, rather than grey, but they did have a lovely springy texture that you wouldn't get from a regular pancake batter.

I only used the juice of 1 lemon, which was enough to brush one side of each injera with, but I will be brushing both sides next time.

I used the recipe for berbere in The Congo Cookbook. It calls for a "cupboard-full of herbs and spices". With two cupboards, a countertop and a drawer full, I didn't need to buy anything new, but I know not everyone is such a spice junkie, so do check the recipe before you start cooking, just in case (g). I used 1 tsp of cayenne and 4 tbsp of paprika in my mixture, which gave a mild and less red version than that of my first taste, but with Young People in attendance, I didn't want it too hot. As always, I had cayenne on the table for anyone who wanted to spice things up some more (mainly me (g)).

I didn't manage to take any good photos of the doro wat, but my good friend Lea did and put it up on her blog here. It's the second photo. The injera was reheating in the microwave at the time, but I'm sure you can imagine a white "holey" (from the addition of soda water in addition to baking powder!) pancake without too much effort (g).

Doro wat

One of the best-known of all African recipes, Doro Wat (Doro Watt, Doro Wot, Doro Wet, Doro We't, Dorowat) is a spicy Ethiopian chicken dish made with Berbere (a
spice mixture or spice paste) and Niter Kibbeg (or nit'ir qibe, a spicy clarified butter). Berberé and niter kibbeh, basic ingredients in many Ethiopian recipes, are usually made in large quantities and kept on hand for some time. No doubt using berberé and niter kibbeh gives a special quality to Doro Wat. But a very good result can be
obtained by adding the same spices directly to the Doro Wat, instead of indirectly in the berberé spice mix and niter kibbeh.

What you need

juice of one lemon
two teaspoons salt
one chicken (about 3 pounds), cleaned and cut into serving-size pieces...remove skin and score or pierce the meat with a knife to facilitate marinating
two (or more) onions, finely chopped
four tablespoons niter kebbeh (or butter)
four cloves garlic, finely chopped or minced
one piece fresh ginger root -- cleaned, scraped, and chopped (about a teaspoon)
1/2 teaspoon ground fenugreek
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon berberé -- or -- 1 - 2 tablespoons of a combination of cayenne pepper and paprika (if berberé and niter kebbeh are not used) [Saffron: I used 1 tsp of berbere, but will use more next time]
1 small tomato, chopped or a few tablespoons tomato paste or tomato sauce (optional)
1 cup chicken stock, water, or dry red wine
hard-boiled eggs (1 per person), pierced with a toothpick or the tine of a long fork.

What you do

In a glass bowl, combine the lemon juice (some cooks use lime juice), half the salt, and chicken pieces. Let chicken marinate for 30 minutes to an hour.

Cook the onions over medium heat for a few minutes in a dry (no oil) pot or dutch oven large enough to eventually hold all of the ingredients. Stir constantly to prevent them from browning or burning; reduce heat or remove the pot from the heat if necessary. (Some cooks add the niter kebbeh at the start, but dry-cooking the onions for a few minutes gives the dish a distinctive flavor. )

Add the niter kebbeh or butter to the onions, along with the garlic, ginger, fenugreek, cardamom, nutmeg, remaining salt, berberé (or cayenne pepper and paprika), and tomato. Stir and simmer for a few minutes. The onions should be soft, tender, and translucent, but not browned.

Add the chicken stock, water, or dry red wine. Bring the mixture to a low boil while
stirring gently. Cook for a few minutes, then reduce heat.

Add the chicken pieces, making sure to cover them with the sauce. Cover and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes --or until the chicken is done--turning the chicken a few times.
After the chicken has been cooking for 20 minutes, gently add the hard-boiled eggs and ladle sauce over them.

Serve hot. The only traditional way to serve doro wat is with a spongy flat bread called injera, which can only be properly made with difficult-to-obtain teff flour. While it's not the way Ethiopians would serve it, doro wat is very good with couscous, rice, or Middle-Eastern or Indian style flat bread.

The wine and tomato seem to be recent non-Ethiopian influences, but they are so widely used that they need to be reported here, even if their use is not traditional.

Berberé

Berberé (or Berbere) is an Ethiopian spice mixture that is the flavoring
foundation of Ethiopian cuisine, a basic ingredient in Dablo Kolo, }Doro Wat, and many other dishes.

Berberé is made from a cupboard-full of herbs and spices, fresh-ground, pan-roasted, and then packed into jars for storage. Among Ethiopian cooks there are many variations of which spices and what amounts. (In the recipe below, ingredients marked "optional" seem to be the least common.) Basic berberé is made by combining roughly equal amounts of allspice, cardamom, cloves, fenugreek, ginger, black pepper, and salt with a much larger amount of hot red (cayenne) pepper. The combination of fenugreek and red pepper is essential to berberé; while one or two of the other ingredients may be left out, the fenugreek and red pepper are must-haves. Milder berberé can be made by substituting paprika for some or most of the red pepper. Berberé is sometimes made as a dry spice mix, and is sometimes made with oil or water to form a paste.

What you need
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
3/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon (optional)
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander (optional)
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin (optional)
1 teaspoon ground fenugreek
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg (optional)
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
4 to 6 tablespoons of a combination of ground cayenne pepper (red pepper, dried chile peppers, or red pepper flakes) and paprika
1 tablespoons salt
1 teaspoon ginger, fresh (peeled and grated) or dried (ground) use dried ground ginger if making dry berberé
2 tablespoons finely chopped onions or shallots, omit if making dry berberé (optional) 1 teaspoon minced garlic, omit or use dried garlic if making dry berberé (optional)
1/4 cup oil, water, or red wine (omit if making dry berberé)

What you do

In a heavy skillet over medium heat, toast the dried spices for a few minutes -- stirring or shaking the skillet continuously to avoid scorching. Remove from heat and allow to cool. If making dry berberé powder: grind the mixture in a spice grinder or blender, or use a mortar and pestle. Store the berberé powder in a tightly-sealed container.

If making berberé paste: combine the toasted spices with the fresh ginger, onions or shallots, garlic, and oil (water, or wine). Grind together in a blender or with a mortar and pestle. Store the berberé paste in a tightly-sealed container.

Starting with whole spices, the various nuts and seeds and dried red chile peppers, then pan-roasting, grinding and mixing them will produce the most authentic berberé. However, perfectly satisfactory results can be obtained using already-ground or powdered spices.

Injera

Quick Injera (Ethiopian crepe)
Yield: 6-8 each

INGREDIENTS
1 1/2 cups all-purpose [S: plain] flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour [S: or buckwheat flour or teff, if you can find it]
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2-2 1/2 cups club soda
2 lemons, juice only

METHOD
Mix all dry ingredients together well. Stir in club soda and mix to a smooth batter. Should have the thin consistency of a pancake batter.

Heat a large cast-iron skillet over a medium-low flame. Wipe with a paper towel soaked in a little oil. Pour about 1/2 cup of the batter at a time into the skillet and spread with a spatula to make as large a crepe as possible. Let bake in the skillet till all bubbles on the top burst and begin to dry out, about 2-3 minutes.

Carefully turn the injera and bake on second side another minute or two. Try not to brown. Remove the injera to a warm platter and repeat with the rest of the batter,
wiping the skillet clean with the paper towel each time.

After the batter is used up, brush each injera all over with the lemon juice. Serve immediately, or hold covered in a warm oven.

VARIATIONS
You can substitute buckwheat flour for the whole wheat flour if you like. Or you can just use all white flour. If you can find teff flour at a health food store, by all means use it.
NOTES
This recipe approximates the true injera, which is made from a
fermented sourdough. Most recipes don't call for the lemon juice, but I find it
necessary to supply the essential sour flavor that injera adds to a meal.

Enjoy!

Albondigas di Prasa: Turkish leek meatballs

This past weekend, we had a Young Lady stay with us while her mum and dad went out for an early Valentine's celebration. To celebrate at this end, the YM and I took our guest out to our favourite local izakaya (Japanese tavern) for what I reckon is the best Japanese pub grub you're likely to get, and huge glasses of Calpis (a fermented milk drink) that the YL just about had to climb up on the chair to drink. (Not being a huge fan of Calpis, I had my usual perilla plum wine instead.)

Ichinokura, as the izakaya is called, has been my favourite feeding and watering hole for more years than I care to remember. While Japan is full of fabulous eats, you generally have to loosen the purse strings quite a bit to partake of them. Good food that won't break the budget is less easy to find. But we have consistently enjoyed great food and super-friendly service at Ichinokura since before the YM was even born (he's 13 now). When he was little, the huge scary-looking mask they have on display near the cash register somehow became an obake (ghost), so the restaurant has been known by one and all in our circle as Obake Restuarant ever since. The Young Lady was, it seems, immune to the goul's scare tactics, but certainly not to the food: she gobbled up her fair share.

Overnight, Yokohama was treated to snow (again!) and the Young Lady's mum and dad had to trudge through it all to pick her up. Which was all a good excuse for some more fun in the kitchen, really. This time a leek and potato meatball recipe called out to me, so I gave it a go.

I adapted this from a recipe in The Book of Jewish Food. The original recipe called for deep frying the meatballs, but I am not a huge fan of deep-frying, so I tried shallow-frying them instead. I was so-so about the end result, but when I fried up the remainder of the batch as patties a little later, they were creamy and delicious, just like Claudia promised.

I am fascinated by the name of this dish, which appears to be from Izmir, or Turkey, at least. But Claudia tells us that Albondigas is from the Arabic. I don't know about the di prasa bit, but it sure doesn't sound Turkish to me!

And if any Turkish people reading wonder if this is actually a Turkish dish, Claudia tells us that it is rarely to be found outside of Jewish homes, but it is available from a Muslim-run Jewish restaurant called Kaser Levi Lokantasi. Now that is fusion cooking!

Albondigas di Prasa: Turkish leek meatballs

500 g leeks
2 small potatoes, weighing about 250 g
250 g chicken mince
1 egg
salt and pepper
flour
oil for frying

Trim and wash the leeks and cut them into pieces, then boil them with the potatoes until they are very soft. Drain, and when the vegetables are cool enough to handle [S: note the last point well!], press them between your palms as hard as you can to get all the water out that you possibly can [S: I found wringing them in kitchen paper did the trick]. This is very important in order to make the meatballs firm.

Now put the leeks, potatoes, meat and egg into the food processor with about 1 tsp of salt and pepper and blend to a soft paste. [S: I found my paste a bit "wet", so added some flour to stiffen it up]. Shape into little round flat cakes about 6 cm wide and pan-fry in oil, turning them over once. Drain on kitchen paper and serve hot.

Claudia tells us that the creamy meatball/fritters are often served with a fresh tomato sauce made a little sharp with lemon juice. Does that sound like our garlicky and minty sauce from the Iraqi meatballs?? You bet. So this is how we peacefully merged Turkey and Iraq on a plate.

And the response: Cleared plates from everyone except the YL, who was not really in the mood for trying Auntie Saffron's weird culinary creations and had to be brided to try just one little bite (g). Not to worry, though. Mum managed to down the extra portion and the YL "made do" with rice and furikake (dried fish and vegetable flake topping) to fortify herself for the snow-slowed trudge home.

Enjoy!

Abgusht: Persian lamb soup with chickpeas and red kidney beans

The Young Man of the house is in the habit of asking unanswerable questions like what fruit I like the best and what is my very favourite thing to eat. I guess he's trying to come to grips with living with a foodie mother. But how is one supposed to choose? Can anyone really commit to something like that?? Especially when there are exciting new things to try every day?

That said, like others I do have some perennial favourites, most of which probably make the category because I get to eat them so rarely. Things like Saffron-Mama's clootie dumpling (something like a fruitcake boiled in a cloth square), black pudding and haggis, the Hong Kong fried noodles I used to eat 3 or 4 times a week, really good cheesecake and Saffron-Papa's famous Boxing Day mango ice-cream (ahh, the joys of Christmas in sunny climes...).

But I do have some absolute favourites that I can whip up myself, any time I want to. And abgusht (literally "water-meat") is one of them.

I've made this so many times now (for the YM, mind (g)) that I can't remember when I first made it, or even whether it was before or after the big trip we took to Iran. I do have fond memories, though, of supping on this lovely soup-stew-cross in Esfahan, a city that is surely one of the most beautiful in the world.

The YM and I were with a lovely young Iranian expat whose name translates as "freedom" (make of that what you will, but she herself said it is a bit of a political statement). She was back visiting family with her sweet 11-month-old son, and we met on the flight down from Tehran. Peckish after wandering around the old-world bazaar that surrounds the incredible Imam Square, we stepped into one of those delightful local restaurants where all the world seems to fall away and all sense of time is forgotten. The whole scene is set for laid-back (literally (g)), convivial dining. After removing your shoes, you step up onto a raised, Persian carpet-covered wooden platform that is circled on three sides by low railings. There, you can laze back, stretch out and generally chill like you are in your own living room.

While you wait, the YM is marveling at the jewel-coloured patches of light that tiny stained glass windows are projecting onto the capet, and you are busy contemplating the culture that adores colour and light so much that coloured mirror mosaic encrusts even the ceilings of restaurants that ordinary people frequent. It truly is magical.

After a while, the waiter brings your order of abgusht in tall black earthenware pots called dizi (which is what the dish is called in restaurants). He pours the steaming, vaguely citrusy, saffron-scented broth into bowls and offers to mash the remaining meat, vegetables and beans for you with the special mashers he's brought for the purpose. It is all so rich and tasty, the surrounds so relaxed and idyllic, that you wonder if perhaps you've found a piece of heaven right here on earth.

Although I can't recreate the atmosphere of that lovely restaurant in a tiny Yokohama flat, the scent and taste of Najmieh khanom's abgusht recipe from The New Food of Life transports me right back to Esfahan every time.

There are several variations on this recipe using different legumes, but this is the one we had as dizi in restaurants in Iran.

This time, I used lamb and beef to clear out some freezer space in preparation for a big cook-up I am planning next month.

I use a pressure cooker for this and tend throw cooked beans in at the end rather than cooking them in the same pot as the abgusht. That way the beans, normally ready in less than 5 minutes under pressure if they've been soaked overnight, don't disintegrate long before the rest of the dish is ready. You should use less water in this case (I used 1 litre). The soup should be very watery, though. I also substituted a 400 g can of whole tomatoes (drained) for the fresh ones.

Abgusht: Persian lamb soup with chickpeas and red kidney beans

1 kg leg of lamb (with bones)
2 large onions, peeled and quartered
1.2 l water [use less if pressure cooking or using pre-cooked beans]
1/2 cup chickpeas
1/2 cup red kidney beans
1 tsp turmeric
2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
3 large potatoes, peeled and cut into halves
4 tomatoes, peeled and sliced [Saffron: or a 400 g tin of whole tomatoes, drained]
1 tbsp tomato paste
2 tsp ground cinnamon
4 whole dried Persian limes (limu-omani), pierced [S: if you have a choice, the pale dried limes are better than the almost black ones in this dish], or 1/4 cup lime juice
1/2 tsp ground saffron dissolved in 2 tbsp hot water
1 tsp Persian allspice (advieh) [S: I use my "Special Spices"]

1. Place the meat, onion, and water in a large pot. Bring to the boil, skimming the froth as it forms. Add the chickpeas and red kidney beans [if using dried], turmeric, salt and pepper. Cover and let simmer for 1 1/2 hours over low heat [or under low pressure for 40 minutes].

2. Add the potatoes, tomatoes, tomato paste, cinnamon, pierced Persian limes or lime juice, saffron water, advieh and more water [if needed]. Continue to simmer 45 minutes over low heat [or about 8 minutes under low pressure].

3. Test with a fork or a knife tip to see if the meat and potatoes are tender. Adjust seasoning.

At this point you have a choice: either serve the broth separate from the meat, vegetables and beans, mashing these into a paste, or serve as a soup in bowls. Either way, Najmieh khanom suggests that the dish be served with Persian pickles (torshi), a platter of spring onions, radishes, fresh tarragon, basil and mint (sabzi-khordan) and lavash or pita bread. (We have it with rice.)

Enjoy!