Puff

I have been meaning to turn my hands to puffed snacks for a very long time, a good few years, but it always seems to slip my mind, but no more, I finally had a packet of tapioca flour, which I had picked up when buying supplies for kim-chi, I had oil for deep frying, and I could jury rig a steamer big enough for my purpose.

The process of making a puffed snack is pretty simple sounding, a little less so in practice I found. Basically, you mix together tapioca flour and a liquid (flavour), then roll it thin, steam it so the starch gels, dehydrate it, finally deep fry it and it should puff up.

I had a few problems, but they all stemmed from the fact that liquid + tapioca = Non-Newtonian fluid, so rolling out the dough, or in fact handling it at all, was problematic to say the least, I could form it into a shape to start rolling out, but as soon as pressure was released it behaves like a liquid, try to roll it thin and it’s hard as a rock, so more work needs to be done to solve the rolling out problem. Not being able to roll it it evenly and thinly enough, led to uneven dehydrating and some of the puffs, when deep fried, had a chewy centre.

Somewhat disheartened by the difficulties, and less than stellar flavour, I am still resolved to figure this one out, and have fun experimenting with flavours, different starches possibly too. Perhaps, my next puff should be Chicharrón, nothing beats puffed up, crispy pork skin.


Roasting pan, with steamer and dough.


Steaming for 15 minutes.


Ready to go in an 80°C oven.


Couple of hours later, dehydrated and brittle.

Bacon bone soup

It’s been a little longer than normal since my last post, but with work being crazy busy at the moment, and me going ever so slightly mental over the upcoming Visa Wellington on a Plate, The City Market: Pecha Kucha presentation, nothing like deadlines to bring out the best in you, maybe. But I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the pressures are slowly abating, plus I’ve got four days to unwind, de-stress and really put my thinking cap on.

In my ever humble opinion, and I know the better half very much disagrees, nothing beats split pea and bacon bone soup, rich, salty, thick, soupy goodness that warms the very soul on a dark winter's night. However as I mentioned, the better half ended up being tortured with the luscious aromas of simmering bones and split peas, and boy did she let me know she was not happy, a pity too, seeings as I made a five litre batch, oh well more for me, and anyway it was her fault for buying me a 16 litre stock pot for my birthday, what was I meant to do?

The quantities in this recipe is for a rather large batch soup, but should scale down (or up) pretty easily, and if you don’t have access to bacon bones a bacon hock should suffice. I know the vegetable quantities are rather vague, I didn’t take very good notes on this one, but just add to your own tastes.


1.5 kg Bacon Bones
4 cups Green Split Peas
1 Large bouquet garni of fresh herbs (parsley, thyme, oregano etc)
1 Tbsp Caraway seeds
4-5 Juniper berry
3 Bay leaves
Even quantity of Celery, Carrots & Onions diced
5 Litres Water

Get a pot with enough water to cover the bacon bones on to boil. When the water is at a roiling boil, blanch the bacon bones for 3 minutes, to remove any excess salt. Drain.


Add everything to the pot and bring to a simmer, cook for 2 hours.

Now the next part is a bit tricky, probably a lot easier in smaller quantities, you need to remove all of the bones. So with a combination of straining and scooping, remove all of the bones to a bowl, ready to have the meat picked off. You’ll need to let the bones cool down a little before you attempt to pick them over, so while you wait, return everything else (apart from the bouquet garni and bay leaves) to the pot and with an immersion blender, purée the soup. When the bones are cool enough to handle, pick the meat off and place back into the soup, discard the bones. Taste and season.

Serve it up nice and hot with some crusty bread, even better, crusty bread slathered with garlic confit. Unless you’re going to make it through five litres of the soup, wait for it to cool, portion it into containers and freeze.



Head over to Urban Harvest and check out my Pan Roasted Brussels Sprouts recipe.

Creaming soda syrup

As I have mentioned in a previous post, I am a convert to the flavour of creaming soda, and have set about trying to make my own homemade version of the syrup. It’s a strange flavour for a soft drink, a lemonade ice cream float/soda/spider, whatever you want to call it, minus the dairy. I think that’s why it took me so long to warm to it, along with the substandard brands I had previously tried.

Ingredients
200 grams sugar
200 ml water
5 ml vanilla extract
Juice of half a lemon

Take 50 grams of sugar, a splash of water and place in a pot over a medium heat. You want the sugar to caramelise and almost burn, get it to the point where you see a small spot or two, turn a bit too dark and give off a puff or two of smoke, when it’s at this stage, immediately pour in the remaining water. When the caramelised sugar has dissolved, add the remaining sugar and stir to dissolve. Stir in the vanilla and lemon juice, remove from the heat and let cool.

I use the above syrup at a ratio of 1 part syrup to 3 or 4 parts carbonated water.

Shrimp tortillas

I have posted this recipe before, but after making it again recently, I thought it deserved another outing, and with pictures this time. It is really simple to throw together as a last minute meal, well throw together if you happen to have some frozen prawns, otherwise you may need to plan the fish ahead. Apart from the fish, you’ll need to have some Gram (chickpea) flour, which should be a staple in the pantry, it’s inexpensive, and you can’t make onion bhaji without it.

I used prawns again, but don’t feel constrained to only use prawns/shrimp, any sort of fish would work, or even a mixture, just take into account that the tortilla will cook on a medium heat for about 3 minutes aside, so use appropriate sized pieces of fish, you don’t want to overcook it. The batter can be personalised as well, add a little heat with cayenne, or load it up with herbs, just keep in mind how all the flavours will work together.

The below quantities are enough to make two 21 cm tortillas.

1 cup water
1/2 cup chickpea flour (besan/gram flour)
1/2 cup flour
1/3 cup sliced shallots/spring onions
2 doz prawns
3 tbsp chopped coriander (or other leafy green herb)
1/2 tsp baking powder
Olive Oil

Mix the dry ingredients together, add the water to make a thick batter (like double cream), and stir through the shallots and coriander.


Place a 21 cm frying pan over a medium-high heat, pour in about a tablespoon of oil, ladle in half the batter. Push half of the prawns into the batter, haphazardly or with OCD precision, up to you.

Cook for 3 minutes, then flip, using a chopping board or plate makes this a bit easier, cook for a further 3 minutes.

Serve hot, with a wedge of lemon, and top with a sprinkle of slice coriander and chilli.

Grapefruit marmalade

Having a pressure cooker comes in handy sometimes, from speeding up cooking times, eliminating the need to soak dried legumes, meaning you can whip up a batch of hummus from dried chickpeas in no time at all, or braising meat, wonderful pulled pork without heating up the house and not taking hours on the stove or oven, it makes congee a effortless affair, it’s ideal for medium sized batches of stock, and you can take advantage of its unique cooking method by making things like caramelised carrot soup or hamine egg.

Recently I’ve added marmalade to the list of things to use the pressure cooker for over the traditional method. The most time consuming process of this recipe is slicing the fruit and removing the seeds, the total cooking time should be around 20 minutes, depending on the amount of sugar and liquid used, maybe another 5 minutes if you want to process your jars to make them shelf stable.

The quantities below, are enough for two 500 ml jars. Another advantage of this pressure cooked method is making small batches, or experimental batches more viable time-wise.

750 g Grapefruit (about 3 medium)
1 kg Sugar
2 cups Strong brewed Earl Grey Tea

Slice the grapefruit thinly, about 2–3 mm, a mandoline is invaluable for this. When the grapefruit have been sliced, pick out the seeds from the slices, piling them in stacks as you go. Cut each stack into four so you end up with piles of quarter slices of grapefruit.

Scrape the grapefruit into the pressure cooker, making sure to get as much of the juice from the board as possible. Add as much tea as your pressure cooker needs to get up to pressure, at least one cup, I used two, but keep in mind how much liquid you add now will increase the amount of cooking time after you add the sugar. Cook on high pressure for 10 minutes.


Remove the pressure cooker from the heat and let the pressure drop naturally. When the pressure has equalised, remove the lid, and pour in the sugar, stirring until dissolved. Place the cooker back on a medium heat, and simmer until the temperature reaches 104°C, about 5–10 minutes. If you don’t have a candy thermometer you can drop a small spoonful of the mixture into a saucer of ice-cold water, if it gels up, it should be ready.


Pour the marmalade into sterilized preserving jars, screw on the lid, but not too tightly. Place a trivet on the bottom of the pressure cooker (now clean), or other pot big enough for the jars, pour enough water to come a few centimetres up the side of the jars, bring to the boil, place on the lid (if using a pressure cooker, make sure the valve is open so pressure DOESN'T build up), simmer for five minutes. Carefully remove the jars and leave them to cool on bench. The lids should ping, and become concave, if this doesn’t happen by the time the jar is cool, reboil the offending jar(s) for five more minutes.


The processed marmalade should last years in the pantry, and once opened a good month or two in the fridge . If you don’t want to boil the jarred marmalade, it should last about a month in the fridge.

Kimchi

I had an urge to make some kimchi, fiery hot fermented cabbage, and as it happens, I had been working my way through Ideas in Food recently, and there is a recipe for their version of kimchi in the book, which I did make, but I’m not posting about that batch, I wasn’t a hundred percent satisfied with it, don’t get me wrong it is tasty, and will get eaten, it’s just a bit on the fishy side for my taste. So back to the drawing board.

So less than satisfying kimchi behind me, and taking up a good portion of the fridge, I set about gathering the required information to try another lot, more traditional this time. In the search for a recipe, I came across a great blog, Maangchi, it has a lot of good information, recipes and discussion on kimchi, so do go and check it out.

Here’s a handy tip, if you want to piss off your partner and make your house stink of cabbage, make kimchi, twice in a row!

Ingredients
1 Chinese cabbage (Napa cabbage)
1 Medium sized Daikon peeled and julienned
1 Cup garlic cloves
1 Tablespoon minced ginger
1 Cup fish sauce
2 Cups hot chilli flakes (Asian supermarkets are a good place to get large packs cheap)
1 Bunch spring onion (about 7) thinly sliced
½ Cup Glutinous rice flour (also called sweet rice flour)
¼ Cup sugar
3 Cups water
Enough 5% brine (50 grams of salt per litre of water)

• Cut the cabbage into quarters lengthwise, remove most of the core, and then slice each segment into four crosswise.
• Submerge the cabbage in the brine and weigh it down with a couple of plates.
• Leave overnight (12 hours).
• When ready, drain the cabbage, and spin dry.

• Heat the rice flour and water over a medium heat, making sure to stir constantly, when it comes to a boil add the sugar and cook until dissolved. Set aside to cool.
• When cool, transfer the rice mixture to a food processor along with the fish sauce, garlic, and ginger. Process until smooth.
• Pour it into the container that you’ll be fermenting in, add the daikon, chilli flakes, and spring onion. Give it a good stir.
• Add the cabbage, and using gloved hands make sure all of the cabbage is thoroughly coated.
• Cover the container and let it sit in a cool dark spot.

The mixture should start fermenting after 2 days, but don’t worry if it doesn’t, it can take up to 6 days, it all depends on how warm it is. It should give up quite a bit of liquid, and have lots of little bubbles. The Lactobacillus bacteria present in the cabbage produces lactic acid which lowers the pH of the mixture, making it acidic and inhospitable to other nasty microorganisms, however, if you think something has gone awry, err on the side of caution and tip it out. Although, as long as it’s not slimy or fuzzy, it should be fine. The bacteria grows best in low-oxygen conditions so it’s important to keep a lid on your container.


When the kimchi has begun fermenting, transfer it to jars and refrigerate. I filled up two 1.5 litre jars from one cabbage, so unless you have a huge fridge, don’t make too much. How long will it last? I couldn’t find a straight answer on that one, some people recommend to keep it only for a month, others say it’ll last a year, I think it’ll last till it’s gone, but a bit of commonsense is in order, when it starts to smell and taste bad, then I’ll know it’s had its time.


With a lot of kimchi in the fridge, what to have it with? Everything! Well maybe not everything, the successes so far are: a sticky roasted pork belly with pickled mustard greens and kimchi; it makes and excellent topping to a hot dog; and tasty with just a plain old bowl of rice. Even the other half with her nose screwed up at the idea enjoyed its fiery heat.

Poached Pear

So I had a food geek moment. I was going to make myself a salad to have with some of my duck prosciutto, but then I got this idea, the prosciutto would probably go really nice with pear, walnuts and cheese, a good classic combination. It got worse, maybe I wanted a cooked texture to the pear, I could poach it, add another flavour to it, heck, I know, I could totally sous vide that pear! Somehow I didn’t really manage to get the brake on that idea before it came out. Research had started, and it seemed reasonably easy, 2–3 hours at 75ºC, and I’d have a poached pear, easy enough, just keep an eye on a pot of hot water for 3 hours, I had nothing better to do, total food geek brain take over, sanity had left the building.


I don’t do it on purpose, sitting around racking my brain trying to come up with something convoluted and drawn out, my inner food geek is just waiting for the smallest opportunity to escape, much like with the 3 day wait for the pork cheek confit, or making dosa, I had the idea to make the dish, I just had no idea it would take 3 days, and to smaller extents pork hock cake, kai kem eggs or kimchi. It’s usually a passing thought or idea, and the next thing I know I’ve started making something that may take 3 days before I get to eat, or in this case set myself up to babysit a pot of hot water for 3 hours carefully nursing the temperature.

But I’m not complaining, I relish in it, spending hours in the kitchen, waiting and hoping the dish will turn out, that what started out as an idea will be edible and tasty, and that the sacrifice of time and effort will be worth it, and I’ll tell you, the results don’t always match the effort. But if I were to be disheartened after every failure, I doubt I’d ever set foot in a kitchen again, failure is an opportunity to learn from what went wrong, correct and improve on ideas. In saying all of that, the pears turned out great.

Success is relative. It is what we can make of the mess we have made of things - T. S. Eliot.

Ingredients
100 grams Butter (unsalted)
50 ml Brandy
2 pears

• Emulsify the brandy and butter together, use a food processor or stick blender.
• Peel the pears, and place in separate vacuum bags with half the butter mix in each, then seal. You could use a zip lock bag, and remove as much air as possible if you don’t have a vacuum sealer.

• Bring a large pot of water to 75ºC.
• Place bags in the pot and cook for 2–3 hours at 75ºC.
• Keep the flame on minimum and adjust as needed.
• If not serving immediately, transfer the bags to an ice bath to halt the cooking, and reheat in hot water when ready.

Visa Wellington on a Plate is just around the corner and I had the privilege of being able to attend the launch event. It was great to finally meet some fellow bloggers and tweeters, and people from the industry, eat some great food thanks to Ruth Pretty, and down a few good wines. But like all things, nothing good comes for free, and putting aside my absolute terror of public speaking, I’m on stage doing a Peecha Kucha presentation at the City Market event. Which I hope, should be entertaining, if not just for the fact that I tend to talk in half formed thoughts and leave whole ideas in my head and stumble out words in random order from my mouth.

Stuffed Pig's Trotter

I’ve been meaning to make this dish ever since I got my hands on Fergus Henderson’s Nose to Tail Eating: A Kind of British Cooking, the recipe jumped out at at me as I read my way through the book, a challenge to make something I’ve never eaten before, and it also sounded pretty damn delicious. Not everything went entirely smoothly, in fact it rather felt like the world was conspiring against me and my attempt to make this recipe. For the life of me I couldn’t get my hands on caul fat, I found wholesalers who had frozen blocks of it, but they wouldn’t sell to individuals, several butchers (including my local) couldn’t or wouldn’t get it in, I rather hope it was the former. Another hurdle, which I hope was just a misunderstanding on my butchers part, was their refusal to give me a trotter that wasn’t just the hoof, as that is a how they sell trotters, and they argue that any more leg would damage the hock, which in my opinion is a load of hock, to get what I wanted I swallowed the bitter pill and took the trotter with the hock still attached. So I had to add a little more butchery to the whole process, bisecting the leg at the appropriate joint, and hey, no damage to the hock meat, surprise, oh well, c'est la vie.


With what I thought was the the hard part over and done with, I resigned myself to the fact I wouldn’t get my hands on any caul fat, so the finished dish would be a bit different than expected, a little less crisp. I set about working my way through the initial, namely de-boning the trotter, a doddle I thought, I had watched youtube videos, I had downloaded skeletal diagrams, all in preparation, I tell you what though, no amount of research could've prepared me for the chore of deboning the first trotter. It took a while, a long while for the size of the job, a small little hoof with a couple of bones, knuckles and a crap tonne of tendons. But in the end I got it done, and the skin was still intact. With a heavy sigh, I set about on the next trotter, which to my surprise, and all the skills of a master butcher I'm sure, I got it deboned in about 2 minutes, that was at least million times quicker than the first.


With the difficulties of deboning behind me, I took the now limp trotters and liberally salted them, placed them on a dish, covered and retired them to the fridge. The bones that were extracted from the trotters (and the extra I had from above the hocks) got placed in my brand new 16 litre stock pot, which I got for my birthday (I am easily pleased), along with some stock vegetables, herbs, peppercorns, a little salt, covered with water, and set to simmer for 2–3 hours, skimming off the scum that rises to the top.


Feeling resilient, I set about cleaning the kitchen down, and then managed to relax with a cold Ritzling that had just arrived in the post, along with my invite to the programme launch of Visa Wellington On a Plate. So for the next couple of hours I pottered about, sipping wine, skimming stock, watching some Miami Vice (a guilty pleasure). Finally when the stock was done, it got strained through some cheesecloth and set aside to cool.


As you may of gathered by now, this is a bit of a long-winded process, and if you’ve read much of my blog, you’ll probably notice, it happens often. But soldiering on, when the stock is cool, take the trotters from the fridge, thoroughly rinse off the salt, and pat dry. Place the now dried trotters in an ovenproof dish, surround with one heads worth of peeled garlic cloves, and pour in enough 50/50 mix of red wine and stock to cover the trotters. Cover with tin foil, Cook for 3 hours at 175ºC.

After the allotted time in the oven, remove the baking dish, and allow it to cool, but not so long that the liquid sets to jelly. Carefully remove the trotters and set aside. I had a small issue of the trotter skin splitting, I’m not too sure why it happened, I think maybe the oven was a little hot, but the onset of depression, and thoughts of all my hard work gone to waste were quickly set aside, and I pressed on, no damn trotter was going to defeat me! I’d just simply reshape the skin around the stuffing, no biggie.

While the trotters relax on the bench, cooling down to handleable temperature, the stuffing can be made. It’s a simple mix of boiled potato (I used agria) passed through a ricer to make a smooth mash, mixed with a couple of diced shallots that have been sautéed in two good sized tablespoons of butter (or duck fat) until translucent, but not brown. When everything is cool enough so that you won’t get third degree burns, carefully start stuffing the trotters, reshaping them to their original form. If by luck you have caul fat, Mr. Henderson advises not to overstuff the trotters, as the potato will swell when cooked. So in saying that, if you have caul fat, wrap the trotters tightly in the fat, trim off any excess, place on a dish, cover and refrigerate overnight. But as I mentioned earlier I didn’t have caul fat, so I lightly oiled some aluminum foil and placed the reshaped trotter near the edge and carefully, but tightly rolled the trotter in the foil, maintaining its shape and not pushing out any stuffing, it then got a layer of cling film and a rest in the fridge overnight.

The trotters wrapped and in the fridge and the kitchen in need of another clean up, I stored the cooking liquid from trotters in a container in the fridge destined for a sauce. I must be a glutton for punishment, the kitchen was cleaned down again, and then I set about making dinner for that evening, as the trotters wouldn’t be ready till the next day.

The final stretch is painfully simple when compared to the rest, remove the trotters from the fridge, heat the oven to 200ºc, place an oven proof sauté pan on the heat, and fry the trotters until brown all over (if they’re in foil do make sure to unwrap them first), then place the pan in the oven and cook for about 20 minutes. Easy huh, well there are accompaniments to sort out, sautéed savoy cabbage, a few pickled rhubarb slices, and a sauce to prepare, a red wine reduction with shallots and the reserved cooking liquid (now jellied), strained and enriched with butter.


It made quite a dramatic plate of food, the hoof stained dark with the red wine set against the bright green of the cabbage, the flavour didn’t disappoint either, rich melt in the mouth porky skin with its fat melted into the mashed potato, the sauce enriching it and making it very indulgent, finally a nice sharp bite of rhubarb snapping it all back to reality, and alas the plate was empty far too soon. Even the other half managed to get over the fact there was a foot on her plate.

Cardamom palmier

I had a lot of leftover puff pastry after topping off my pies, instead of putting it in the freezer and forgetting about it, and only finding it when I have a dig around the tiny tiny freezer some months later, I decided some sweet buttery pastry cookies were in order. It is a great way to use up leftover pastry, or a good excuse to make some pastry.

Sugar Mix
¾ cup sugar
1–2 tsp ground cardamom, depending on personal taste (grind your own for the best result)
1 tsp salt

• Preheat the oven to 190ºC.
• Combine all the ingredients and mix well in a bowl.
• Roll out the pastry into a rectangle, using the sugar generously to prevent sticking, much like you would with flour.
• Sprinkle sugar over the pastry, coating it evenly.
• Firmly roll up one edge of the pastry into the center, and repeat with the opposite edge.
• Cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for about 20 minutes, so the pastry has a chance to firm up.
• Cut 5 mm slices and arrange on a baking tray. They will spread slightly so leave enough space around each to allow for this.
• Bake for 10 minutes, then sprinkle with sugar.
• Bake for about 10 minutes more, or until golden brown and crisp.
• Cool on a rack, and when cool, store in an airtight container.

Rhubarb creaming soda

Nothing beats ice cold soda on a hot summers day, sun beating down, creating hazy mirages on the asphalt. OK, so we’re in the throws of winter, and the only thing beating down is rain and the haze has been replaced with actual pools of water, but nothing is stopping you from cranking up the heater and pretending!

I have rediscovered creaming soda, I recall having it several times throughout my youth, but always with disdain, a kind of “What the hell am I drinking!”, but I think it was the brand and low quality of the drink rather than the concept of creaming soda itself. But now a complete convert having tried proper creaming soda, tasty almost burnt sugar with strong vanilla. Having a carbonation rig at home (à la sodastream), I set about creating my own creaming soda syrup with—seeing as it’s winter—a rhubarb twist.

The below measurements could easily be multiplied up if you wanted to make a larger batch.

250 grams of rhubarb sliced
150 grams of sugar
50 grams of sugar
250 ml of water
5 ml vanilla essence, or replace the sugar with vanilla sugar
half a lemon

• Macerate the sliced rhubarb with the larger batch of sugar, and leave it for about an hour, or until it has softened and given up its juices.
• In a pot set over medium heat melt the smaller batch of sugar (with a dash of water) until it has turned a dark caramel and is mere seconds away from burning. Halt the cooking by carefully pouring in the remainder of the water.
• When the caramel has dissolved into the water, add the rhubarb, juices and all.
• Simmer over a medium heat until the rhubarb has completely broken down, about 10 minutes.
• Pass through a cheesecloth lined sieve into a bowl, add the lemon juice and vanilla and stir.
• Let it cool, bottle, or jar the syrup and refrigerate.
• Add the syrup to sparkling water, adding more or less of the syrup depending on how much of a sweet tooth you are, a 1 to 5 ratio seems to work well for me