Roasted fennel with yoghurt dip

1.  Cut a fennel bulb lenghtwise in four and baste with some olive oil.
   
2. Heat a ribbed skillet and slowly fry the fennel on both sides.
   
3. In the meantime, crush three cloves of garlic, mix with a few tablespoonfuls of full-fat Turkish yoghurt, and season with black pepper, salt or fish sauce, and a generous amount of chopped mint or parsley.
   
   
4. Serve as the main for lunch, a starter for dinner, or an entry for a tapas feast.

Lietuva salad - the latest in culinary nationalism

henever I try to cook Russian, my uncertain memories of what it should taste like tend to mix with the mishmash layers of culinary influences I have accumulated through the decades of living away from my erstwhile mothership. I don’t even know if any Russian actually eats it but for me this particular salad contains all the edible staples of Russianness so many are busy resurrecting these days: turnips, carrots, linen seed.

Ironically, it goes by the name of Lietuva salad because it also happens to be of the same colours as the Lithuanian flag. In fact, I am planning on suggesting the Lithuanian embassy here to adopt it as their national dish, kind of like Colombians did with their bandeja paisa.

 

Since I started my 5:2 regimen half year ago I find myself making it every now and then. First of all, it is super easy to make. Then it does contain both a modest quantity of easily digestible calories as well as a lot of crude fibre to help stave off hunger on my fast days. And, last but not least, it does taste mighty good, especially considering the bare minimum of the effort and cost it requires.

So here how it goes:

1. Grate some turnip and a couple of carrots.
2. Chop some parsley
3. Add some linen seed, a sprinkle of fleur de sel and a dash of pumpkin seed oil.
4. Mix vigorously by hand squeezing the juices.
5. Serve with a piece of rye bread.

Saffron rice.. wthout saffron

ave you ever been frustrated with saffron like I am? The pesky bugger may give that sought-after flavour to your Persian rice, yet it is so finicky in handling. It is never really enough to offer an ample, full-bodied flavour, it needs to be pre-chopped and pre-soaked before you even dare to use it, then the flavour so easily escapes when cooking, and to boot it does not even colour the rice uniformly, leaving it instead tantalisingly spotted here and there. 

Luckily, by pure chance, I have discovered a mighty alternative to it, giving everything we have been begging saffron to deliver for so long, as of yet to no avail. Ta-dam, here enters the perfect couple: dry dill and turmeric powder. By some strange twist of fate, when paired together, they produce the flavour identical to saffron, at a fraction of the cost and effort, The colour too, albeit lacking saffron's reddish notes, with the addition of dill's dark green acquires a depth, elegantly finishing off with the golden brown of the tahdeg (caramelised crust). 

I also truncate the elaborate Persian procedure in favour of the more  straightforward, yet nonetheless effective Asian steaming method. Few more tricks that make this saffronless saffron rice a hit with my discerning guests.

• Add butter generously. I use about 70 g for 11 handfuls of dry rice. Butter is good for you: French people eat a lot of it and don't get fat. Junk food, snacking and eating on the run  - that's what makes you fat, not butter.
  
• Add a dash of sea salt. Without salt, your rice will come out bland and boring. I use fish sauce because it gives an additional level of depth to the flavour, thanks to the naturally occurring MSG, which is not bad for you.
  
• When the rice has been brought to a boil, stir it up to make sure that the dill is evenly spread. Very important: do that while the water has not yet been completely absorbed into the rice. Thus you will ensure that the rice does not turn into a solid slab, allowing for passages for the steam to travel through it, which is how the whole shebang actually gets cooked.
  
  
• Once ready, fluff up the rice. At the bottom, you will find a deliciously caramelised crust, tahdeg. Serve it separately, it tastes like savoury cake. Don't drag our feet though: it's only good while it's warm. To make your rice fit for a celebration table, the Nowruz only being a couple of months away, mix in some finely sliced dried apricots or sultanas as well as pistachio or almond flakes.

Pkhali - Georgian answer to hommous (ფხალი)

 

hiz together in a blender:

1. A can of red beans (although my Mom would also use nearly anything veggie-like: boiled cabbage leaves, freshly boiled spinach, cooked beet roots, fried aubergines, etc.)
2. A handful of walnuts.
3. 1-3 cloves of garlic.
4. Half a handful of coarsely chopped parsley or coriander leaves.
5. A glug of olive oil.
6. Some salt (as I do, I use fish sauce)
7. A generous sprinkle of khmeli-suneli (ხმელი სუნელი), an indispensable Georgian mix of dried herbs, which is best made at home as supermarket versions are invariably inferior. Simply mix equal shares of dried mint, basil, marjoram, parsley, oregano as well as bay leaf powder, ground coriander seeds and black pepper. If you can get hold of dried hyssop and fenugreek leaves, by all means add those too.

Spread some on grilled bread and decorate with a sprinkle of pomegranate sauce (sold in Turkish shops as nar ekşisi) and finely chopped coriander leaves.

How to improve hommous

 am not that dedicated to make hommous from scratch. However, the supermarket variety is just too dull and basic, the price of becoming Britain's favourite cupboard commodity.

A few add-ons I came up with never fail to land me adoration from my lunch/dinner guests. I am going to share my little secrets with you today. This is what I add to hummus to give it the extra zing-boom-bang:

• 1 tbsp of za'atar (Levantine thyme)
  
• a dash of Persian lime powder (failing that, lime juice)
• a glug of extra vrigin olive oil
• a sprinkle of garlic powder
• a wee tad of fish sauce for the naturally occurring MSG.

The quantities indicated are not precise because you need to arrage everything to your own heart's content. Good luck!

Samphire (also okra, fern and bamboo shoots) kimchi

he only reason why Koreans do not make kimchi out of  samphire is because samphire only grows in North-Western Europe. Should it favour East Asia too, I have no doubt it would have long been part of the gorgeous sanchae or sansai, wild vegetables commonly used to make pickles in Korea and Japan.

Last month I decided to correct this Mother Nature's oversight and made kimchi out of Norfolk samphire. Fresh, crunchy and naturally briny, it is perfectly complemented by ginger and pepper. Just follow your regular kimchi recipe, but use samphire instead of cabbage or daikon. Depending on how much you make, the amount of  ingredients will vary, so I will rather give proportions than exact quantities. You should make enough kimchi base paste to smother the main ingredient comfortably.

 Kimchi base ingredients:

1. equal quantities of minced garlic, fish sauce and minced onion.  
2. double quantities of rice porridge and gochugaru (hot pepper flakes, can be substituted with gochujang)
3. quarter quantity of minced ginger. 

Procedure:

1. Rinse samphire well and remove the woody parts. Cut into equal pieces.
2. Mix the kimchi base ingredients. Fold the samphire into the mixture.
3. Cover with a lid and leave to ferment at a room temperature for 24 hours. When bubbles start showing, the process has kicked off. Move to a cold place, ideally a few degrees above zero degree centigrade. A few days is normally enough to complete fermentation: keep checking until you are satisfied with the taste.

P.S. I also use bamboo shoots, okra, string beans, turnip, daikon (mooli) and fiddlehead fern (warabi or gosari) for my kimchi preserves. Bean sprouts are rather delicate in texture so they can be simply mixed with the excess of juice from already made kimchi and left overnight in the fridge. Kimchi out of bean sprouts and samphire do not hold long, so finish yours within a week or so.

Black olives flavoured with sage, garlic and lemon rind

Turkish cuisine offers a slew of marvelous ingredients that in the loving hands of a Turkish mama turn into exquisitely heart-warming treats.

Take for example salted olives, provocatively called in French à la mode grecoise. Those are black olives in salt, full stop. On their own, they are definitely an acquired taste: a complex mix of tart and salty, rich in flavour, lacking in fragrance, and somewhat on the dry skinny side.  

Now the task is to imagine oneself a Turkish mater familiae and think how to bring out olives' strengths and make good for their weaknesses. This is my take.

I peel and slice thinly one head of garlic, part a lemon with its rind and crush a handful of dried sage. I fold all that into a 200 ml olive oil, shake well and mix with 1 kg black salted olives in a glass jar. Let stay in a cool place, NOT in the fridge, for a couple of days, to allow all the flavours to fuse. Serve with Turkish bread, grilled halloumi cheese, sliced ripe tomatoes and whatever Mediterranean dainties you can get hold of.

Turkish manti soup recipe

Of course, it is mantı, not manti, the vowel harmony! I am always inspired by Turkish cuisine, it is such a potentially wondrous fare that somehow all too oft ends up very über-meh in most Turkish restaurants, even those catering the local clientèle in Turkey. I suspect that real Turkish food must be made by Turkish mama's loving hands for her family.

In the absence of such in my social circles, I have no choice but to be a Turkish mama to myself. So I venture northwards, to Finsbury, where round-the-clock Turkish grocers beacon with mouth-watering displays of ripe fruit and fragrant bread and then rows upon rows of roast pepper paste jars, bags of crackly bulgur, packs of salted olives and huge trays of syrupy sweets. Slurp.

A pack of thumbnail-sized ravioli, mantı, costs 1.39 quid. It's enough for three pots of delightfully tangy and zesty soup. I also insist that you invest in a jar of proper Turkish acı biber salçası, spicy pepper paste. Don't let the word spicy confuse you, this is nothing like Thai or Jamaican spiciness, more like Basque piment d'Espellete.

So here's for the recipe:

Slowly roast some crushed garlic in olive oil. Fold in a full spoon of tomato passata and a full spoon of acı biber salçası and fry a couple of minutes more. Add some dry mint and sea salt. Add a litre or so cold water and bring to a gentle boil. Add mantı and a tin of boiled chick peas. Remove from the fire after 5 min and serve with lemon juice and chopped coriander.

Sanchae Korean mountain vegetables 산채 - 山菜

Yeepie-ho, my quest is over. I have managed to find sanchae (산채), Korean mountain vegetables, in London. No Korean restaurant here yet serves my all-time favourite sanchae-bibimbap (산채비빔밥 ), so I may be one the first ones to cook it in the Big Smoke.

Pumpkin soup recipe

or those of you who don't want life to be simple, or just hate pre-processed canned supermarket food, or perhaps your gums have just been operated on here a pumpkin soup recipe.

1. Peel a pumpkin and cut into half-an-inch slices.
2. Sprinkle with olive oil and bake in the oven at 160 degrees until soft.
3. In the meantime, peel, slice and caramelise an onion in a pan with a tad of olive oil. Season with a pinch of curry powder if you feel that way inclined. (You can skip the onion altogether if it's too much trouble!)
   
4. Leave the pumpkin and onion to cool a bit, then purée in a kitchen processor.
5. Move to a pan, add cream, sea salt and bring to a gentle simmer.
6. Remove from fire and add either cinnamon or nutmeg.
   
7. Serve garnished with croutons, freshly ground black pepper, fresh sage and crushed walnuts.
   

Patatas bravas: improved Spanish recipe

antasies can sometimes be better than real life. It happens to me very often that I come up with a better recipe than the original one when trying to recreate dishes I have tried (like my impoved jeyuk bokkeum) and especially those I never have.

I remember skimming through the Eyewitness Spain Guidebook before my first trip to Spain. The colourful page dedicated to "flavours fo Spain" got my attention for a while. Patatas bravas was described as potatoes in a tangy tomato sauce with parlsey and white wine. Wow, that description alone got my creative and stomach juices flowing.

Little knowing that in reality they are miserly French fries drizzled with bottled chili sauce, I got down to figuring out the recipe. Here is the fruit of my imagination that beats the orignal version hands down with a huge spiked stick.

1. Sauté sliced garlic and red onions in olive oil until golden brown.
2. Add chopped tomatoes with juice, one finely chopped chili pepper and a glug of white wine.
3. Mix well and allow to simmer until the smell of alcohol evaporates.
4. In the meantime, slice potatoes Pont-Neuf style (thicker and chunkier than usual) and cook in the microwave (or oven if you got time for that!) until almost ready with just a wee bit of crunch left.
5. Fold the potatoes into the tomatoes and leave to soak in the juices.
6. Serve with chopped parsley, freshly ground black pepper and grated extra mature cheddar or parmiggiano.

P.S. 01/09/2014 I just realised I actually re-invented a recipe for Arab batata kharra absolutely independently. Wow. Kudos to me.

Patatas Bravas: an improved recipe

Kongnamul guk: veg soups can be fab too! (콩나물국)

his is a surprisingly simple and flavourful soup. Kongnamul guk (콩나물국) is made from truly basic ingredients and takes just a few minutes to cook, yielding a remarkable combination of healthiness and taste.

1. Bring to a boil 3 cups of water.
2. Add 2 generous handfuls of bean sprouts, pre-washed, and 2 tablespoonfuls of fish sauce.
3. Let simmer for 4-5 minutes.
4. Add 1 chopped spring onion, one finely sliced de-seeded chili pepper and 3 finely sliced garlic cloves.
5. Let simmer for another couple of minutes.
6. Season with sesame oil and freshly ground black pepper.
7. Serve!
   

My vegetable romance: the best marinade for grilled vegetables (verdure alla griglia)

ack in my Bangkok days, when I was still veg(etari)an, my staple diet was naturally Asian: mostly Thai and Chinese. Once in a while, I would also take to ransacking other restaurants in search of something I could sink my herbivorous teeth in.

One sultry (there they all are!) evening, I went on a date to one of Bangkok's fanciest Italian restaurants. My date was quite perplexed as per where to take me out to, as my militant vegan stance wouldn't have allowed anything animal-derived into my digestive system. Ah, the extremes of youth!

Italian is the favourite cuisine with a lot of Western vegetarians. A lot of dishes are vegetable-based, it is tasty, colourful and offers a reasonable variety of dishes. France is vegetarians' hell, Italy is their paradise. So, this Italian place was an almost inevitable choice.

It must have been my first encounter with real Italian alta cucina. Ridiculously overpriced, cooked to perfection, immaculately presented food served in a converted city mansion, enjoyed with the capital's swishest crowd. Of all the truly exquisite dishes, I was somehow most impressed with my starter, grilled vegetables. After the intense flavours of Thai food, it was quite a revelation that something so simple and unadorned with hardly any spice or herbs - and no chilies in sight! - could be so delicious. It was such a long while ago that now I don't quite remember how I got hold of the recipe. One thing I know is that this marinade makes vegetables taste exactly like on that memorable date.

So here is the recipe:

1. A dab of sea salt, a generous dash of aceto balsamico bianco, a lot of freshly grounded black pepper, a nice pinch of powdered garlic, a liberal glug of olive oil. I also use some fish sauce and a drop of liquid smoke, but you don't need to.
   
   
2. Let it all sit in a deep bowl until it all dissolves, then whisk into a homogeneous liquid .
   
   
3. In the meantime, slice zucchini, aubergines, pumpkins, fennel, onions, tomatoes and bell peppers, evenly and equally thick. Add a few pods of haricot beans. I also use shiitake mushrooms. Portobellos come out very nice too.
   
   
4. Marinate the vegetables for 15-20 minutes, not more, otherwise they become soggy.
   
   
5. Heat a ribbed skillet on a very strong fire. A gas stove is essential here as an electric one won't give you a high enough temperature.
   
   
6. Grill the vegetables until they are nicely seared on the outside. They taste best al dente, slightly crunchy inside, so mind not to overcook.

Organic vegan sushi: need I say more?

alking about why I quit veganism after 10 years of torturing myself and those around me with what essentially is an eating disorder. This will defend my case without any words: organic barley sushi with tofu and vegetables, that tasted remarkably like a slab of damp toilet paper.

Figs with ricotta and honey recipe (fichi con ricotta e miele)

ome like to spruce up this classic recipe with grilling, blanched almonds, crushed pistachios or vanilla essence. I steer clear of this foppish foolishness and simply enjoy the indulgent mushiness of ripe figs, the creamy crumbliness of ricotta and the rich flavours trapped in the sticky sweetness of honey.

This time I got some plump figs from my favourite Iranian grocer, some ricotta from my favourite (they all are!) Portuguese delicatessen and the honey came from my uncle's own bee farm.

1. Remove the stems and cut figs in quarters.
2. Break ricotta into smallish chunks.
3. Arrange the figs and cheese artfully on a rustic dish.
4. Douse liberally with honey.
5. Profitez bien!

Recipe: Figs with ricotta and honey - Fichi con ricotta e miele

Kwanga: African cassava wrap

rixton Market always abounds in wonders. When in the mood for a bit of serendipity, I just take a stroll there. This time I stumbled upon another mystery edibles that even the grocer did not know what it was. "Kwanga ya tempe" said the sign. Sounded inviting enough to me. So I got me one - to the amazement of everyone in the shop.

- Do you know what it is?
-No idea. I'll look it up.

So I bought myself a culinary adventure for one quid.

Turns out kwanga is just on of the names for this cassava cakes wrapped in dry banana leaves. It is also known as chikwangue, miondo, mounguele and baton de manioc - depending on where you come from. It is a kind of savoury bread that you have with your mains. It works very well to offset the spicy flavours of African stews.

Finocchio alla griglia: roasted Florence fennel

lorence fennel's lovely anisey flavour goes perfect with fish but it is great in its own right just as well.


I pre-marinate it in an all-purpose mix I use for all vegetables that are going to get grilled or roasted. You will need to mix well:

• a tablespoonful of olive oil;
• a tablespoonful of aceto balsamico bianco;
  
• a pinch of unrefined sea salt;
• a pinch garlic powder;
• a pinch freshly ground black pepper.

Slice fennel, soak it in the marinade for a few minutes and roast on white-hot charcoals or griddle pan. Do not overcook, it should stay crunchy on the inside. Serve as a main or side dish or on top of mixed green salad.

Les saveurs de l'automne: autumn root stew

his is a simple recipe that will allow you combine the lovely earthy flavours of autumn vegetables in one powerful stew.

Wash, peel and dice approximately equal amounts of:

• carrots
• potatoes
• parsnips
• root celeriac
• pumpkin
• yams
• swede
  
• buttersquash

Add 2-3 stalks of chopped leeks and stew on medium fire with butter, black pepper, unrefined sea salt, a glass of cream, a glass of water, a dash of dry white wine and a wee pinch of nutmeg until soft. Mind and stir regularly. Serve as a main or side dish.

Cadeaux de l'automne: the gifts of autumn

o escape the drudgery of job search last autumn, I would go walking around the parks. London's parks are gorgeous in autumn hues on a sunny day. Sunshine adds vigour and vitality to the leaves' colours, bizarrely glorifying what is essentially a state of decay and dying. Ranelagh Gardens, a hidden gem near Sloane Square, are my favourite.

I also like all the gifts of nature that come in the fall: pumpkins, chestnuts, game, all root veggies with their earthy flavours. I just went shopping yesterday and bought 3 bags of those. The colours, the sense of abundance somehow links in my brain with the human middle age, when wisdom (with some luck) finally triumphs.

Paprikakrém: shortcut to goulash and not only

don't always mind shortcuts in cooking. The traditional goulash recipe takes up to two hours of boiling down paprika into gravy. You can bypass that by using a ready-made gulyaskrém, paprika paste for goulash.

Hungarians don't expect foreigners to be interested in this product, so you can only get hold of it in Hungary, nor is there any information on the tubes in any language besides Hungarian. However, you only need to know two words: csípős (hot) and félédes (mild). My preference goes for the félédes version for making actual goulash or pörkölt - it does not overwhelm the rest of the stew's flavours. The csípős version is fab as a spicy spread for sandwiches, it has the kind of kick and favour quite unlike anything else spicy. My favourite combination is tomato slices topped with bresaola, fresh basil leaves and paprikakrém.

Now scan the net for cheap ticks to Hungary and off you go! I once flew to Budapest for 48 Euros, return all included. I wish you the same luck!