Russian pearl barley & mushroom soup (перловый суп с грибами)

o Russian dinner is complete without soup. Most recipes are traditional and use  obscure cereals and seasonal vegetables with quite spectacular results.

Barley and mushroom soup is at the very top of my favourites. list. It takes some time to cook but the good thing you don't need to be there to wacth the pot all the time. It is rather light yet very filling, full of fibre and complex carbohydrates. The slowly cooked barley and caramelised onions give it gentle sweetness, while the heady aroma of fried mushrooms will keep you salivating like a Pavlov's dog throghout the cooking process.

1. Soak a cup of barley and a generous handful of dried mushrooms in cold water overnight.
2. Set the mushrooms aside and bring water with barley to a boil. Allow to simmer for an hour or so until the barley becomes al dente.
   
   
3. In the meantime, cut 2 potatoes and a carrot into bite-size chunks. Set aside to dry.
4. Finely chop 2-3 large onions and stir fry with the  mushrooms in olive oil until golden brown. Optional: 100 g smoked bacon.
5. Tip the potatoes, carrots, onions and mushrooms into the pot with barley. Add salt, pepper and a couple of bay leaves, mix well and allow to simmer for about 20 more minutes.
6. Serve with crème fraîche and chopped fresh parsley.

Russian oven-baked salmon pie (рыбный пирог)

n the Western mass conscious, Russian diet inextricably revolves around the images of frozen cabbage eaten out of toilet bowls and people queuing for bread at 4AM on dark winter mornings. Thanks to years of Cold War propaganda, we all know that Russians are sullen-faced ruffians chasing vodka with raw potato peels in the midst of Siberian snowfields.

Reality, however, is rather different. With perhaps the only exception of convicted bachelors, Russians traditionally eat three warm meals a day. That extravagant habit explains why of all industrialised nations Russians spend the most time in the kitchen, one and a half hours a day on the average.

A day without soup is considered a wasted day. Although supermarket chains are doing everything in their power to change this, Russians normally eat whatever is in season. Spices are still used sparingly but fresh dill, parsley, horseradish, mustard are common. Sandwiches for lunch and deep fried food are an imported concept and frowned upon.

For me the most prominent feature of Russian cuisine is oven-baked dishes, particularly pies. Pies are made with leavened dough and eaten throughout the year. Fillings, as is the case with other dishes, are whatever is in season.

My favourite is my Mother’s salmon pie. The filling is de-boned wild salmon with black pepper and onions on a bed of buttery rice. The rice soaks in the fish and onion juices and keeps them sealed inside. The dough comes out golden-brown and crunchy on the outside and fluffy inside. Mother normally serves it with light fish broth in small bowls and a green salad. This time we had it with an underrated Austrian white, Grüner Veltliner. I brought it from my trip to Vienna as Austrians don't seem to favour exporting their wine.

Iraqi Grill House@ Edgware Road, London

e were enjoying a leisurely walk along the Regent's Canal from Little Venice walking towards the Camden Lock Market when a torrential rain caught us right by Edgware Road. Unprepared for such a treacherous turn of the weather, we got soaking wet and as it was closing on lunch time we took it as a sign and went on to look for a nice bite in a warm place on Edgware Road, the heart of London's Arab community.

Worldwide media spin machine these days is trying to portray Arabs as archenemies of everything that the West holds dear, but we need to be reminded that it was down to the Arabs that much of the knowledge and culture of the Ancient world was preserved for us. Take Iraq. It is nowadays synonymous with war, suffering and destruction brought to this country by oil-hungry Uncle Sam and its faithful minion Great Britain. This painful image overshadows the fact that Iraq is also the cradle of world’s oldest urban civilization. And as is always the case with ancient nations, Iraq has a fantastic cuisine.

Iraqi Grill on Edgware Road is its very worthy ambassador. We realized that the very moment we stepped out of the pouring rain into its warm-coloured interior filled with mouth-watering smells. It is next to a miracle that any Iraqis would serve food to anyone speaking English after what America and Britain did to their country but we were welcomed warmly and treated nicely throughout our extended lunch.

Although the canopy proudly bears www.khankabab.com, Khan Kabab, in fact, is the name of a fast food outlet that used to occupy the same premises. Strangely enough, Iraqi Grill House have also inherited Khan Kabab's menu covers. I figure it must have been a cost-cutting measure.

We ordered mixed grill and mixed starters to try a bit of every specialty. The starters came on a large platter and consisted of:

• three definitely hand-made dolmas, succulent and gently flavoured;
  
• three lightest ever falafels I've ever had - without any perceptible trace of grease;
• Arab fried potatoes, herby and spicy - this is how I imagined Spanish patatas bravas would be like, not the deep-fried autrocity with chilli sauce that you get;
• the ubiquitous hommous;
  
• moutabal - grilled aubergine and tahini dip.

The mixed grill came in the shape of chicken barbeque, grilled lamb shashlik and kebab - lamb mince with spices - one skewer each. All meat was excellently done - lightly charred on the outside, juicy inside. To accompany this carnal excellence were pickles and chopped sweet onions sprinkled with sumak.

Devon clotted cream with brandy

lthough it sounds like a surefire recipe for an early heart attack, it is an indispensable ingredient for cream tea when it served on scones with jam. There is an ongoing argument whether it originates in Devon or Cornwall. One things for sure, it owes its origin to the cows of Southwest England that produce rich milk that is high in fat content.

Clotted dream is made from unpasteurized cream left for hours to allow the fat content to raise to the surface and form clots.

In the olden days when appropriate calorie intake was a problem, this was a true luxury and nutritional boost. In our days of dietary overconsumption and sedentary lifestyle, it has become a guilty pleasure. Perhaps, it would be a wise marketing move to try and come up with some other word than clotted, which brings about not particularly favourable associations, but then clotted cream would not be the same by a different name.

In Devon, clotted cream is used instead of butter with the jam spread on top of it, while in Cornwall the opposite is true.

quail eggs cooking recipes

Quail eggs are a frequent guest in my fridge.

Palm sugar

unt Pranee, whose diminutive build does not easily mesh with her name meaning "cosmic energy", is fixing me somtam, a fiery salad of shredded unripe papaya. For many years that I spent in Thailand it became my staple food. In a hot climate like there your body craves a spicy kick to perk itself up, and somtam fulfils that function perfectly. In goes a staggering variety of ingredients: from pickled fresh-water crabs and fried peanuts to hog plum and fish sauce. What looks like fossilized mini-piles of blonde poop turns out to be sugar. Thai food is a balance of sweet, sour, spicy and tart so palm sugar was responsible for the sweetneess in somtam.

In Thailand palm sugar is made mostly from the sap of the coconut palm, so it may sometimes be confusingly sold as "coconut sugar" or "palm honey" while, in fact, it has nothing to do with coconut fruits or bees. Depending on the degree of processing, the colour may vary from pale beige to hearty honey brown.

It definitely brings in more complex flavour than refined sugar. It is also less sweet and it adds honey-like mellow mildness to whatever you put it into. In the countries where it is common, it is sold in huge dollops that are dirt-cheap. In Europe I buy it in miniature stacks of neat rounds encircled in strips of bamboo wood (as on the picture).

Whole fish baked in salt

ish does not need much cooking or spice. Its natural flavour is what we like it for. On top of black pepper only one mild spice or herb is allowed. Some spices are a definite no-no: nutmeg, for example, or cloves are too overpowering.

When preparing these two lovely forels, I stuffed them with just fresh lemon grass and some black pepper. Then I put them on a banana leave, covered them liberally with coarse sea salt and baked them in the oven until the eyes turned white. That was it, nothing to it.

The salt cakes on top of the fish and only ever so slightly penetrates the skin. Steamed veggies, potatoes or rice - nothing too strong smelling or pungent - go well with this.

It is impossible to ascribe this kind of cooking to any particular region, it is mostly down to the choice of fish sort and herbs. In Thailand, for example, local catfish (pla buek) is stuffed with lemon grass to make a tear-jerkingly delicious dish.

Hou-tou-gu (yamabushitake): the wonder of China

he wonder of Da Shan, Monkey Head Mushroom!" Gaudy red characters on a package in my local Chinese shop cried for attention. They got mine. I had no idea what was so wondrous about this weird-looking fungus but I would just google it once back home.

It turned out the characters did not lie. Decoction of this mushroom (猴頭菇 - hou-tou-gu) is used in traditional Chinese medicine to treat or prevent such conditions as indigestion, thrombosis, dementia, neurasthenia as well as the ulcers and cancer of the stomach, duodenal and oesophagus. It is known to reduce to level of lipids in blood.The secret behind such an astonishingly wide strike zone is ascribed to the polysaccharides that address the root of those seemingly unrelated conditions.

It is one of the Four Culinary Treasures of China, the other three are bear's paws, trepangs and shark fins. It is also known as Lion's Mane Mushroom, Bearded Tooth Mushroom, Hedgehog Mushroom, Bearded Hedgehog Mushroom, pom pom mushroom, or Bearded Tooth Fungus. Its Latin name, Hericium erinaceus, is only used in scientific literature while the Japanese name, yamabushitake (山伏茸) frequently occurs in commercial contexts.

Chipotle: smoked Mexican peppers

or me chipotle (aka chilpotle) peppers for ever represent the ultimate flavour of Mexican cuisine. Their earthy smoky spiciness that kicks in with a delay, magically transforms any stew or sauce into Mexican fare.

The name originates in the Nahuatl language and stands for smoked pepper, chilpoctli.

Chipotle is a fully ripe jalapeño pepper, smoked until it loses all its moisture. It is an ancient preserving technique employed by Native Americans. There is also the en adobo (in brine) variety that I stock up on my visits to the US of A. I yet have to locate them in Europe.

Kipper: the original red herring

raditional English food is straightforward and quick to cook. Whether it is down to Protestantism or the busy rhythm of industrial society, I don't know. I first heard the word kipper in the famous episode of Fawlty Towers. It took 15 years before I got around to tasting it. Kipper is a herring, which, in a traditional bout of Northern European ichthyophobia , has been split from tail to head, gutted, salted, and cold smoked. As if that is not enough, the traditional recipe requires grilling it.

Although every effort seems to have been made to thrash the last whiff of the sea, the final product tastes rather nice. Before grilling, I sprinkle it with freshly ground black pepper and put a knob or butter on top. It comes out a delicious dark tan colour.

Mexican chipotle beans stew (guiso de fabas con chipotle)

y experience of Mexico was short-lived. We walked across the bridge from El Paso, Texas to Ciudad Juarez to have dinner. After the comfort and relative safety of the good ole US of A, Mexico felt dodgy. It did not help that we crossed the border as the sun was setting. Shady characters and roaming youths lurked on crossroads. Snazzy patrol cars wheezed down dark streets, stopping to a screeching halt to check people’s documents. The town is infamous for las muertas de Juarez – hundreds of women violently murdered here since 1993, most cases unsolved. In the beautiful dusk light we trundled on looking for a place to grab a bite.

Touching the base with food is Floyd's idea of a short visit: only a meal in a new country can validate your claim that you've been there. When we finally stumbled over a resto still open at such a late hour, he went safe ordering a steak. I remained true to myself and tried something I had no idea what it was. It turned out a hearty stew with potatoes, carrots, pieces of pork and lots of beans. It was very filling and delicious, leaving a pleasant warm aftertaste of smoky spiciness. In my mind this became for ever bonded with the sense of imminent danger lurking outside.

When back home two weeks later, I made a few attempts to recreate that taste of Mexico. I searched online cookbooks for hints, tweaked the ingredients and cooking times and after a few almost-there tries finally hit the spot. So here we go. It is actually quite simple. Measures are approximate and I don't think Mexican people stick to mathematically verified recipes themselves.

1. Peel and chop some potatoes and carrots, set aside.
2. Chop and fry lots of onions in vegetable oil.
   
3. Add some smoked bacon and keep frying.
4. Add the potatoes and carrots. Fry until almost ready.
5. Add canned beans as desired.
6. Add some chopped chipotle peppers.
7. Add some starch mixed well with cold water.
8. Let stew for a while.
9. Serve.
   

As it goes with stews, it tastes better the next day, when al the blessed event of flavour osmosis has occurred.

Cheesecakes @ PAUL, Old Compton St., London

lga was all over herself about these cakes. I can see why. Crunchy crust, light and moderately sweet, stuffed with blueberries. Rhubarb with its delightful inherent acidity is a great cheesecake idea too. These cakes are in my eyes the star attraction at London's premium class chain bakery shop PAUL. Established in 1889 by some French people, nowadays they are all around the town. Olga's choice was Old Compton Street: perhaps she enjoys the sight of me being drooled over. We enjoyed our time together except the tea that was made by dumping tea bags in warm water. Tsk tsk tsk.

P.S. To PAUL's credit, we received complimentary cups of truly excellent coffee when we complained about the inadequate tea.

Welsh cakes (teisen gri)

am not a big fan of vacuum-packed commercial pastry. Glitzy packaging only reminds me of how many chemical they are infused with. These little Welsh cakes, however, I bought from a baker at a market in the picturesque village of Abergavenny, South Wales.

Their humble appearance belies an exquisite crumbly texture. This could easily be the only type of pastry where I actually enjoy the raisins. They go perfectly well with the subdued sweetness of the cakes. Their Welsh name is teisen gri, although they are also known as bakestones after the kind of cast iron griddle they are baked on.

Mamouniyeh: syrian breakfast porridge (مامونية)

t is amazing how many ways there are to start a day. And of course I'm talking food, not sex or meditation. I am forever indebted to the French: coffee and croissant provide both kick and indulgence. Once in a blue moon I allow myself a guilty pleasure of full English. Quite often I get a craving for natto, misoshiru or or ochazuke. When I have enough time, I fix myself a heart-warming congee with mushrooms and seaweed. When I get in the rut with muesli and yoghurt, it is time to try something new. After all breakfast means "breaking the fast", returning from slumberful abstinence to the world of palate pleasures.

This time I was inspired by a blog about Syrian food. Mamouniyeh or mamounia (مامونية) is a breakfast cereal common in Aleppo in the North of the country. It is very easy to cook.

1. Melt a knob of butter in a pan, scoop out the froth. This is how you get ghee that this recipe calls for but may be hard to come by in our area.
2. Gently roast 2 tbsp pine nuts until golden brown. Scoop them out and put on a plate.
3. In the same butter fry half a cup of coarse semolina on small fire for about 3-5 minutes.
4. Add four cups of water and 4-6 tbsp sugar. Let boil until thickens constantly stirring.
5. Serve with the roasted pine nuts, grilled Halloumi cheese and, if so wish, a sprinkle of cinnamon.

How to make mayonnaise

ayonnaise is easily Russia's national dressing. Although often derided as fatty and unhealthy, in Russia it outsells every other type of commercial condiment including ketchup: the Guinness Book of Records insists that the Russian city of Ekaterinburg is world's leader in mayonnaise consumption.
A Ekaterinburg-native friend of mine told me that when back in the 90s Russian factory workers tried to mess with the newly imported Italian mayonnaise-making machinery by using less expensive ingredients and more water, it would stop working. According to him, that's why Eketarinburgers have been enjoying properly manufactured mayo ever since.
It is somewhat ironic that the jarred variety with all the creepy chemical additives, very likely substandard eggs, inexplicably added sugar and excess of salt is so popular despite mayonnaise being one of the simplest and cheapest sauces to make at home. It takes just about 5 minutes to whip up a bowl of mayonnaise. Here how it goes:

1. Mix well one very fresh egg yolk (I buy biodynamic free-range organic eggs from Orchard eggs) with a tablespoonful Dijon mustard. Both need to be room temperature.
   
2. Add little by little one glass of your favourite vegetable oil while whisking vigorously making sure that all oil is incorporated in the mixture before adding any more. Only use up to 30% of olive oil as it tends to make your mayonnaise taste bitter.
   
3. Now for the flavouring. Mix one tablespoonful aceto balsamico bianco, some finely ground sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste, and whisk the mixture in. That said, I use Thai fish sauce instead of salt for the extra kick and add crushed garlic to make aioli. You can also add finely chopped estragon, anchovies, etc. - let your imagination run free!
   
4. In case your mayo comes out too thick, whisk in a tablespoonful of water.

How to make plain rice exciting: turmeric rice recipe

any Westerners and Russians do not seem to like Asian style steamed rice. Though I do not share the sentiment, I kind of can see how one could find it bland and unappealing. So here is a simple way how to make rice more exciting:

1. Rinse rice seven times and cover it with cold water. (Check if interested detailed rice-cooking instructions.)
2. Add a pinch of salt or a slug fish sauce, a piece of butter and a teaspoonful of turmeric powder. Also add a few cloves, a few cardamom pods and a stick of cinnamon broken into smaller pieces.
3. Cook as usual.
4. Chop a handful of cashew nuts and half a handful of dry apricots and add to the cooked rice. Mix well. You can also substitute apricots with white raisins (it not for nothing that Sangli, world' largest turmeric trading centre is also Asia's most important place of raisin trade).
   
5. When serving, sprinkle some chopped coriander leaves on top.
   

I serve this rice with anything: from grilled fish to Indian curries. In fact, it is good enough to be a dish in its own right. The aromatic crust that forms at the bottom of the cooking pot (see the picture above) is absolutely scrumptious.

Turkish chargrilled sardines in grape leaves (asma yaprağinda sardalye)

y first visit to Istanbul was, in hindsight, quite traumatic. Back in 1999 I was a hardcore vegan and the sight of all the Turkish goodies sizzling tantalisingly on charcoals left me scarred for years.

That is why I have put myself through a self-administered culinary therapy. I recreate all the stuff I missed out on then in Turkey, here in London. Kuzu pirzola, grilled lamb chops, is a good example.

When I received the good news that I was accepted to the SOAS postgrad school, I celebrated Russian style, with a barbeque. The difference was that it was alcohol-free and apart from the scrumptious hand-made Colombian sausages I bought at Brixton Market, I also made Turkish sardines wrapped in grape leaves. I nicked the recipe from wonderful Ghillie Başan's mouth-watering Turkish cookbook. As all great things it is quite simple.

1. Make marinade of olive oil, grated lemon rind, juice of the lemon, aceto balsamico bianco, clear honey, one crushed chilli pepper, sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper. Whisk all ingredients together well. The quantities are not arbitrary. The rule of thumb is that the marinade should come out pleasant to taste, a balanced mix of sweet, spicy and sour.
   
2. Cover gutted and scaled sardines with marinade and let stay for a couple of hours.
3. Wrap the sardine in grape leaves and baste them with the marinade.
4. Grill on white-hot charcoals for a couple of minutes on each side. Do not overcook: when the eyes are white, it is done.
5. I serve sardines with grilled vegetables (tomatoes, bell peppers, aubergines, courgette, onions, garlic) and turmeric rice.
   

Grape leaves for stuffing and wrapping

rapping is a great way of cooking. Russians use cabbage leaves, Thais - pandan leaves, the Chinese - lotus leaves, the Japanese - bamboo leaves, Indians - banana leaves, Mexicans - corn husks. In Laos and Vietnam they stuff food into pieces of bamboo trunk. The whole shebang is about letting the wrapping flavour permeate the rest of the ingredients.

In the Near East, a vaguely defined area spanning from Greece and Romania to Armenia and Syria, grapes leaves (a.k.a. vine leaves) enjoy a wide coinage. Their flavour is not that strong but the pleasantly sourish kick they bring to food is well worth the trouble of wrapping. My parents are lucky to use fresh ones from their garden but I have to buy them jarred. Most of the preserved varieties I see in Europe are imported from Turkey. I buy mine in an Iranian-run shop at Brixton Market. The first dish I cooked in London using grape leaves was charcoal grilled sardines.