Indulging in India 2: Surprising pilau

Rice is interesting stuff. It's the daily "bread" of far more people around the world than any mere loaf, but we have such a dearth of rice words for the stuff in English.

I mean, here in Japan, you have o-kome (uncooked rice), gohan (plain steamed rice), takikomi-gohan (rice steamed with other tasty tidbits), chahan (fried rice, from the Chinese chaofan), doria (a Japanese rice-gratin) and even raisu (rice), for when you eat it not from a ricebowl but from a plate with a "foreign" meal! The Chinese have a similarly large repertoire of rice words, mostly based on the character fan, for rice/meal (han in Japanese). Then the Iranians have berenj (uncooked rice/rice in general), chelo (steamed rice, either plain or with spices) and polo (rice dishes with meat and vegetable fillings). The Turks have pilav, the Italians risotto, and on and on.

Yet in English, we are only have the one paltry word: Rice.

And so to this pilau, a relative of both polo and pilav, and like which is usually made with basmati or other long-grain rice. But with rice so expensive in Japan--the cheap stuff will set you back around US$18 for a 5 kg bag--we (meaning I) don't go in for keeping different rices for different dishes. Sure, it might produce more authentic results, but the cost-benefit ratio is not right for me. Anyway, I actually think I might prefer the standard short-grain Japonica rice.

Either way, this easy pilau certainly pulls its weight when it comes to the effort-flavour ratio. It is from the interesting title, India's Best 500 Recipes. Interesting because it contains not just obviously Indian recipes, but dishes from Thailand, and even recipes reprinted from a Caribbean cookbook that I own! Not that I'm complaining. I've had lots of luck with the recipes I've tried so far. And this is another winner.

So, what's the surprise, then? Well, when I put the lid on my pot it was definitely a mustard-yellow rice dish I was making, but when I opened it up again, it had morphed into the lovely grass-green you see above. I had to do a double-take as there is nothing remotely green in the ingredients. My best guess is that the black sesame seeds that I substituted for regular ones leached some color that, when mixed with the turmeric, turned the pilau green. Actually I rather like it, and will keep this up my sleeve in case I am ever invited to a St Patrick's party (g).

Indian Pilau Rice

Serves 4

225 g basmati rice
15 ml oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 tsp fennel seeds
1 tbsp sesame seeds [black, if you want a pilau to make and Irishman happy]
1/2 tsp ground turmeric
1 tsp ground cumin
salt [S: you may not need extra salt if using stock cubes or powder]
2 whole cloves
4 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
5 black peppercorns
450 ml chicken stock
fresh coriander (cilantro), to garnish

1 Wash the rice well and leave to soak for 30 minutes. Heat the oil in a heavy pan, add the onion and garlic and fry gently for 5-6 minutes until softened.

2 Stir in the fennel and sesame seeds, the turmeric, cumin, salt, cloves, cardamom pods and peppercorns and fry for about a minute. Drain the rice well, add to the pan and stir-fry for a further 3 minutes.

3 Pour on the chicken stock. Bring to the boil, then cover. Reduce the neat to very low and simmer gently for 20 minutes, without removing the lid, until all the liquid has been absorbed.

4 Remove from the heat and leave to stand for 2-3 minutes. Fluff up the rice with a fork, garnish with coriander and transfer to a warmed dish to serve.

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!

Fish tagine

Now here's a recipe almost custom-made for Saffron and Lemons. It is a quick and easy Moroccan-inspired fish stew containing two of my favourite ingredients (g), and it is just perfect for a weeknight.

The original recipe comes from a cookbook that by all rights should not even be in my collection (as I am holding off buying cookbooks for a while (g)), but one that I could not resist as it was on sale at 50% of its already half-price tag. Who could pass that up...?

It's a Marie Claire title, Kitchen, that has lots of takes on the classics, as well as some mouthwatering-looking creative ideas (that, if nothing else, will certainly provide food photography inspiration). The Marie Claire cookbooks had escaped my notice until a while ago (I try to stay out of the cookbook section, for obvious reasons (g)). But I was impressed by a new one spied at Yurindo earlier this year. It also turns out that Donna Hay published a couple of MC titles when she was their food editor. Anyway, it's good stuff, and interesting to see that the author of this title, Michele Cranston, is another Aussie. (I don't think this is surprising, though, as food is serious business in Oz, and the population composition makes exotic ingredients just another part of the culinary wallpaper. It makes for some fabulous fusions.)

I was so impressed, I think I'll make up this week's menus from Kitchen as well.

As always, I have done a bit of fiddling with the recipe. I do the saffron the Middle Eastern way, and I added a tsp of the tagine spice mix from a little while ago. I think it adds a little something. Anyway, I loved this, and next time will give it a burl with chicken as well.

Fish tagine

4 tbsp olive oil
1 large red onion, roughly chopped
10 saffron threads, ground in mortar with a little salt and dissolved in 1 tbsp boiling water
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp tagine spice mix
4 large potatoes, sliced into thick medallions or cut into bite-sized chunks
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
400 g tin chopped tomatoes
1 small cinnamon stick
600 g fish fillets, cut into 4 cm chunks
1 handful flat-leaf parsley [S: or celery leaves as I did]
2 tbsp finely chopped preserved lemon

Serves 4

Heat the olive oil in a deep-based frying pan or flame-proof casserole over medium heat. Add the onion, cumin and tagine spice mix and cook until the onion is soft and caramelized. Add the potato, celery, tomatoes, cinnamon and 250 ml water. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. When the potato is soft, season the fish fillets with sea salt and add them to the stew with the saffron water. Simmer for a further 10 minutes, then season with freshly ground black pepper. Garnish with the parsley or celery leaves and preserved lemons.


Tagine spice mix (source: love to cook)

2 tbsp paprika
2 1/2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp chilli powder
1/2 tsp allspice
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground green cardamom

Enjoy!

A Persian New Year 4: Gulab jamun (Milk doughnuts in saffron and rose-scented syrup

There is a scene in one of my favourite films, Ae Fond Kiss, where the male lead (a 2nd-generation Glaswegian of Pakistani descent) gives the female lead (a "wee Irish girl" teaching in a Catholic school in Glasgow) a dish he calls "gulab jamin". It is so exotic sounding, that he has to repeat the name in so his girlfriend (and the rest of us) can get it.

In the film, we see the Irish girlfriend eating a bowlful of white balls, which could be ice-cream. But it was the name that stuck with me. Gulab. Sounds so much like golaab, or "rosewater" in Persian. Anyway some Googling brought up various recipes, some even containing that fragrant ingredient! And just in time for my No Ruz celebration, too.

I chose this one as it had the most detailed instructions, and a syrup of rosewater, saffron and cardamom that sounded heavenly. I've adjusted the sweetness and rosiness of the syrup to my taste, below, and suggest that you play around with the flavours, too. Next time I think I might try a rose and ginger syrup. Or maybe even add a whiff of cinnamon, or...

Since butter is a luxury food in Japan (around 280 yen for 200 g), ghee was not in the cards for me, but my jamuns worked just fine in oil. I also didn't have an hour to reduce fresh milk to the right consistency and used the powdered milk method. It worked a charm! (Although I have to admit I was a bit sceptical; enough to make this the night before, in case I had to abandon it and make something else for dessert (g).)

My Turkish guests reckoned there is something very similar in the Turkish culinary canon, the name of which escapes me now, but sounded remarkably similar to "loukoumas", which Wikipedia gives as a possible Greek version of the desert.

By whatever name, this is a lovely special occasion dessert. All I need now is to find out what those white balls were in the film that sparked my little culinary adventure (g).

Gulab Jamun

This is such a delicious recipe that does NOT translate well into English. I've seen translations of "cake-like fried milk balls in scented syrup" and seen people scratch their heads and go, what? Well, bear with the translations here, there's not too much of a western equivalency that I can think of. The name literally is gulab meaning rose and jamun- the only thing I can think of is a round fruit of the same name. (If anyone knows better let me know!) The synopsis...milk is boiled down into a thick, fudge-like consistency and mixed with the slightest bit of flour to form a dough, formed into balls, fried slowly in ghee (butter oil) and then when golden, put to soak in rose-scented sugar syrup. Wow! What's not to love? The consistency of the balls are tender and delicious, almost half cheese, half custard. You'll have to try and describe for yourself. I'm giving two methods for making the dough..the longer, traditional method and the easier, faster, thank-you-for-powdered-milk method. I'm also including a how-to for ghee, since frying the jamuns in ghee makes such a difference in taste. Oil...bleh :( Note: Work time is for the powdered-milk method and does not include ghee if you have to make it, which usually takes around 20 minutes. Also, does not include soak time. by Mina the Brat

50 min 20 min prep
24 gulab jamuns

Traditional Method
1 liter milk
1 1/2 tablespoons flour

Powdered-Milk Method
2 cups powdered milk
1 1/2 tablespoons self-rising flour [S: Mix 3/4 tsp baking powder into 1/2 a cup regular flour to make self-raising flour]
1/2 cup warm milk
1 teaspoon ghee or butter

Scented Syrup
2 cups sugar
1 1/4 cups water
2 tablespoons rose water or 1/2 teaspoon rose extract
1/2 teaspoon saffron (powdered, and optional)
1/2 teaspoon cardamom powder (optional)

Ghee
1 lb butter, -unsalted is best but salted will work in a pinch

To Make Ghee: Put the butter in a good saucepan and bring to a boil on medium heat. Then reduce to low. Now this is what will happen as the butter slowly simmers.
Moisture will be evaporated out of the ghee. The white protein-solids from the butter will sink down to the bottom of the pan and slowly turn golden. A foam will rise to the surface, and as it cooks will form a bit of a crust. The butter will cook into a gold color as well, and it will have a slightly nutty smell. When the moisture is gone, the ghee is done. Decant the oil and save the delicious golden buttery bits on the bottom of the pan for toast, or mixed with veggies or potatoes. If you've used salted butter, you don't want to use it on toast- the salt will knock you out, but it's still good in potatoes or whatnot.

To Make the Scented Syrup: Combine sugar and water and bring to a boil for 3 minutes. Remove from heat and add rose water or essence.

Traditional Method: Use a heavy-bottomed pan because the milk will stick. Use a non-stick pot if you have it. Boil the milk down over medium heat, while stirring, until it forms a paste. Add the flour and mix into a smooth paste. Oil your hands and roll them into uniform balls, place them onto a buttered plate and set aside.

Powdered-Milk Method: Combine the warm milk and ghee together. Mix the
powdered milk and flour together and sprinkle slowly into the wet mix to form a dough. Oil your hands and form uniform balls (about 24) and set aside on a buttered plate.

Cooking the jamuns: This is the most delicate part of the operation. Gentle, low heat is a must. Use a wok or karai for best results, with the ghee about 2.5-3 inches in depth. Heat the ghee on low to 215 degrees. Slip in the balls, one by one. They will sink. No touching at this point. Gently shake the pan to move the balls and keep them from getting too brown on one side. After about 5 minutes they will begin to float. You will notice them getting bigger. Now, use a wooden spoon or equivalent to gently agitate and keep them evenly browning. The ghee will slowly get hotter as the balls cook. After about 20 minutes, the ghee will have risen in temperature to around 245 degrees and the balls should be nice and golden. Remove a ball and put it in the syrup. If it doesn't collapse after 3 minutes, remove the others and add to the syrup. If it does collapse, fry for another 5 minutes and try again. Let soak for 2 hours at least before serving.

Serve room temperature or warmed up.

Enjoy!

PS Do try to check out Ae Fond Kiss. It handles the potential disconnect between religions with a sure and balanced hand (it's directed by Ken Loach), and the opening scene, a scathing rejection of "the West's definition of a Muslim" alone is worth the price of entry (if you can understand the Glasgow accent (g)).

A Persian New Year 3: Aash-e reshte (Iranian noodle soup with beans, spinach and fresh herbs)

There is, it seems, some controversy over the role of this filling, fresh-tasting soup in the Persian New Year celebration. On the one hand, my favourite source of wisdom on all Iranian culinary things, Najmieh Batmanglij, calls it an essential part of the No Ruz spread. Meanwhile, my dear Iranian friend M says it is really just a snack, and that fish and rice dishes are the celebration's main event.

Well, I'm not going to argue the point with an Iranian, so I'll just straddle the line, and say that it is a dish traditionally eating by some Iranians at this time of the year, and leave it at that (g).

Chock full of beans and herbs, this contains, as my dear Turkish friend Se put it, "a week's nutrition in one bowl." It certainly packs a punch in terms of flavour but, in fact, it only contains a tiny amount of spice, and turmeric, at that. The secret's all in the onions, garlic and fresh herbs.

The original recipe is (of course(g)) from Najmieh khanom's New Food of Life. I made it exactly to specification last year, but reckoned there might be a bit much spinach in it for my liking. I also thought I could speed things up a bit with the pressure cooker. Even still, you'll want to start this a couple of hours in advance of when you plan to eat it. It's another one of those Slow Food Sunday meals, then.

Just a word about the name. Aash is a kind of thick, ingredient dense Iranian soup. Reshte is noodles. The noodles, as we learn in New Food of Life, "represent the choice of paths among the many that life spreads out before us. Eating [the] tangled strands is like unraveling the Gordian knot of life's infinite possibilities in order to pick out the best." The noodles bring good luck and fortune, apparently, and aside from No Ruz, are also eaten when embarking on other new endeavours for good luck.

Interestingly, noodles are also eaten at the New Year (Dec 31/Jan 1) in Japan, in the hope that their length will bring long life to the eater. I have to say that Japanese toshi-koshi soba ("year-crossing" noodles) are far simpler to prepare than aash-e reshte, but I rather like making this dish in the early spring as well. You can never have too much New Year's luck, after all (g).

You can read more about No Ruz, and even find another of Najmieh khanom's recipes here. Since fabulous food ideas and recipes are often to be found on the NPR site, I will also add the link to my the web hangouts.

Aash-e reshte: Iranian New Year's noodle soup with beans, spinach and fresh herbs

2 tbsp olive oil
3 large onions, peeled and thinly sliced
5 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp turmeric
1/2 cup cooked red kidney beans
1/4 cup dried white beans, washed
1/4 cup dried chickpeas, washed
10-12 cups water
1 cup lentils
4 cups homemade beef bone broth [S: I used the lamb broth left over from making the Iraqi dish I made earlier; not very PC of me, I know]
200 g Persian noodles (reshte) or linguine, broken in half
1 cup coarsely chopped fresh spring onions
1 cup chopped fresh dill
2 cups coarsely chopped fresh parsley
400 g fresh spinach washed and chopped
1 1/2 cup liquid whey (kashk) or sour cream, or 1/4 cup wine vinegar [S: I substituted yogurt]

For the garnish (nana dagh)
1 onion, peeled and finely sliced
6 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp turmeric
4 tbsp dried mint flakes, crushed

1. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a large pressure cooker and saute the onions and garlic over medium heat. Add salt, pepper and turmeric. Add white beans and chickpeas and saute for a few minutes. Pour in 8 cups water and bring to boil, skim the froth as it forms. Put on the lid and bring to pressure, then cook on low pressure for 15 minutes (or simmer for 45 minutes in a regular pot).

2. Add lentils and beef bone stock. Bring to pressure again, and cook on low pressure for another 15 minutes (or simmer for 55 minutes). Check whether the beans are done

3. Add the noodles, chopped spring onions, dill, parsley and spinach. Simmer, stirring from time to time until the noodles are cooked (in Iran, they would be well past al dente). Add salt and pepper, and extra water if the aash is too thick.

4. Stir in the whey (or sour cream, vinegar or yogurt), saving a dollop for the garnish, and mix well with a wooden spoon.

5. To prepare the garnish (nana dagh), brown the onion and garlic in oil in a non-stick frying pan. Remove from the heat, add the turmeric and the crushed mint flakes and mix well.

6. Pour into bowls and garnish with the mint mixture and a dollop of whey (or yogurt).


Enjoy!

A Persian New Year 2: Muhammara and a light-as-air white loaf

When I have a party, I usually try to make something from the culinary repertoire of the homelands of all my guests. This time we were having a celebration for No Ruz, the Persian New Year, which is also celebrated to some extent in other countries that were once under the Persian empire, and among the Kurdish people living in Iraq (as we know from my friend Zanmei's blog) and way over in the east of Turkey. In the rest of Turkey, from where my guests hail, the day is apparently known as the Spring Festival.

Anyway, having yet to suss out any special foods eaten in Turkey during this festival, I went ahead with a lovely Turkish red pepper and pomegranate (again!) dip, known as muhammara, that is totally to die for. I have two recipes for this, one in Alyar Esen Algar's Classical Turkish Cooking: Traditional Turkish Food for the American Kitchen (mentioned earlier), and the other in Australian food legend Stephanie Alexander's opus magna, The Cook's Companion. (This is the point where I get to say what a joy it was to dine in Stephanie's eponymous Melbourne restaurant with the YM (then 18 months) in tow. The food was, of course, to die for, but the fact that boisterous young folk were welcomed so warmly only sealed the restaurant's place in my affections. Regrettably the restaurant is no more, but the memories remain.)

Anyway, I made Stephanie's version again, as it always gets such rave reviews whenever I serve it.

I made it this time with breadcrumbs from the Argentine chimichurri bread I made the other day because Japanese commercial bread contains ingredients that are no-nos for Muslims, and anyway, who is going to complain about more flavour, right? I served it with my dear friend H's bread, which the YM is forever asking me to make (being perhaps the only person in the world doesn't like more flavour in his bread (g)). I was out of wholemeal flour, so used all white flour, substituting 10 g of oatmeal for 10 g of the total weight of flour. It turned out a treat.

Being a starter, I only cut half the loaf, but it quickly became obvious that the Young People around the table wouldn't be satisfied with that. They managed to demolish the whole thing in about 2 minutes, and could easily have polished off another loaf if I'd had it!

Turkish pomegranate and red pepper spread

Makes 1 1/2 cups [S: Note that the measures in this recipe are Australian. Use the measures in brackets if you do not have a set of Aussie measuring cups]

1/4 cup (62 ml) extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup (125 ml) fresh mixed-grain or sourdough breadcrumbs [S: I used some of the Argentine Chimchurri bread from earlier: yum]
1 tsp cumin seeds, crushed
1 large red pepper, roasted and peeled
60 g walnuts
1 tsp freshly chopped garlic
1/2 tsp hot chili past or to taste
2 tsp pomegranate molasses
2 tbsp (40 ml) lemon juice
salt

Heat 1 tbsp of the oil in a small frying pan and saute breadcrumbs and cumin, turning frequently, until lightly golden and smelling wonderful. Remove from heat and tip onto a plate lined with kitchen paper. Roughly puree red pepper, walnuts and chili paste in a food processor, then add crumbs, pomegranate molasses, lemon juice and remaining oil. Taste and adjust balance with salt and, if necessary, more pomegranate molasses and lemon juice [S: I've mistakenly added 2 tbsp of pom molasses before and thought it tasted great!]. Scrape into a container and cover. The spread will keep for 2 weeks in the refrigerator.

Auntie H's light-as-air bread maker white loaf

15 g honey
210 ml water
180 g white bread flour
100 g wholemeal bread flour [S: also works if the wholemeal flour is not of the bread making variety]
17 g butter, diced
5 g salt
10 g powdered milk
10 g dry yeast

Place ingredients in the pan of the bread maker in the order recommended by the manufacturer and bake using the white bread function.

Enjoy!