Fishing around: Nigel Slater’s salmon with herb butter and bacon recipe. Photograph: Jonathan Lovekin for the Observer
The recipe
Slightly season 2 pieces of salmon fillet, each approximately 200g in weight, with salt. Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6.
In a mixing bowl or using a food processor, combine 2 tsps each of chopped chives and lemon thyme with 125g of butter. Season with black pepper.
Take 2 rashers of smoked bacon and place them close together, flat on the work surface. Place one of the pieces of salmon fillet on top of the bacon. Spread 1 heaped tbsp of the herb butter over the salmon then wrap the bacon rashers loosely around the fish, tucking them tightly underneath as you place the fish in a foil-lined baking dish. Repeat with the second piece of salmon, the herb butter and two more rashers of bacon. Spread any remaining butter on top of the bacon before you put it in the oven.
Place the fish in the preheated oven and roast for 20 minutes until the fish is firm but only just cooked. Serves 2. The trick
Many of the major supermarkets stock lemon thyme. If it evades you, then use classic thyme leaves with 1 tsp of lemon juice. Not the same, but on the right track.
The twist
Swap the thyme and chives for tarragon and parsley. This is also a good time to use chervil. Salmon and chervil are a happy marriage. Use pancetta instead of the smoked bacon.
Yotam Ottolenghi’s tomato and cucumber raita: goes brilliantly with all
sorts, from simple breads and rice to grilled meat. Photograph: Louise
Hagger for the Guardian. Food styling: Emily Kydd
A really versatile dish: lovely as a dip, with some warm pitta, or
spooned on top of spiced rice or plain grilled chicken. Serves six.
3 Lebanese cucumbers (or 1 large regular cucumber), quartered lengthways, seeds removed and cut into 1cm dice ¼ medium onion, peeled and cut into 5mm dice Salt 250g Greek yoghurt 100g creme fraiche 10g mint leaves, finely shredded 1 tbsp lemon juice 1½ tsp cumin seeds, toasted and finely crushed 200g cherry tomatoes, cut into 1cm dice
For the green chilli paste
2 small preserved lemons, skin and flesh chopped 2 green chillies, deseeded and chopped 2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed 2½ tbsp olive oil
Mix the cucumber, onion and half a teaspoon of salt, put in a
colander and leave to drain for 15 minutes. While the cucumber is
steeping, put all the chilli paste ingredients in a mortar with a
quarter-teaspoon of salt, and pound with a pestle until smooth.
Put the yoghurt and creme fraiche in a large bowl and whisk with the
mint, lemon juice and cumin. Add the cucumber and onion mix, and the
tomatoes, and stir gently. Spread over the base of a large, shallow bowl
and spoon chilli paste on top. Swirl lightly on the surface and serve.
Chilli and chocolate have become a well-loved combination. Thoroughly pureed chestnuts add a subtle sweet flavour and a grainy texture, similar to ground almonds.
(Serves 10)
4 medium eggs
140g caster sugar
250g dark chocolate
250g unsalted butter
1-2 teaspoons chilli powder, to taste
250g cooked chestnuts
275ml milk
2-3 drops almond essence
Preheat the oven to 170C/325F/gas mark 3. Grease and line a 23cm springform cake tin with baking parchment.
Separate the eggs. Beat the yolks with the caster sugar.
Roughly chop the chocolate and put it into a small saucepan with the butter. Gently melt the chocolate and butter together. Stir in the chilli powder and mix well to avoid any lumps. Leave to cool a little, then stir into the egg yolks and mix thoroughly.
Peel the chestnuts if they still have their outer skins on. Roughly chop and put them into a small saucepan with the milk. Bring to the boil, stir in the almond essence and leave to cool for a few minutes before transferring to a food processor. Process until smooth and add to the chocolate mixture, mixing well to prevent any pale streaks in the cake.
Beat the egg whites to soft peaks and gently fold them into the chocolate mixture. Spoon the mix into the prepared tin, smooth the top and bake for up to 45 minutes – it may still be a bit wobbly. Leave to cool before taking the cake out of the tin and slicing to serve.
• Extracted from the Vegetarian Year by Jane Hughes (Modern Books, £20). To order a copy for £16, go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call the Guardian Bookshop on 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99.
Sylvie-Agnès Bermann must be beginning to
wonder why she bothers talking to people from Britain’s opposition parties. Mme
Bermann is, you may remember, the French ambassador to this country who was
apparently told by Nicola Sturgeon that she “didn’t see Ed Miliband as PM
material”, according to a leaked memo. Now it emerges – or apparently emerges –
that Bermann herself has put some backs up in the office of Hilary Benn,
Labour’s foreign affairs spokesman.
According to “a
well-placed source”, the Mail on Sunday assures us, Bermann and her team were
unhappy with the refreshments during a recent visit. “It was incredible,” the
unidentified person says. “Hilary’s team could not have been more polite but the
French kicked up a fuss because they were served biscuits.” A spokesperson at
the French embassy denied the story with the rather underwhelming words: “She
remembered the biscuits and told me they were fine.” A Labour Party spokesperson
also denied the incident happened: “No such comment was made.”
The
French ambassador to Britain, Sylvie-Agnès Bermann, ‘remembered the biscuits’.
Photograph: Justin Tallis/AFP/Getty Images
What the report leaves
out, however, is how unreasonable serving biscuits to an ambassador, or
complaining about them, would actually be. Really, the rules are the same as for
any guest: you politely accept whatever your host gives you, according to Craig
Murray, Britain’s former ambassador to Uzbekistan. Even so, it does make a
difference what time of day the meeting took place, and whether it covered a
mealtime. “Ambassadors, if they are given lunch, expect to be given an extremely
good lunch, and extremely good wine,” Murray says. “But if it’s purely a working
thing, tea and biscuits happened to me many times. There’s not anything strange
about it.”
Indeed, the real test
for ambassadors all over the world is not the meagre snacks they must put up
with, it is the great banquets they have to eat. Last year, Matthew Barzun, the
US ambassador in London, complained that, “I must have had lamb and potatoes 180
times since I have been here.”He might crave a 181st, however, should he ever be
posted to Tashkent. “I recall a lamb foetus,” Murray says. “And also a sheep’s
head and being told, ‘You should take out the eye and eat the eye as the first
thing.’ Those kinds of things happen all the time.” And how do you handle them?
“With the eye, I explained that this was culturally very difficult for me and
excused myself, which is probably terribly bad behaviour on my part. The foetus,
I just kind of picked at.”
• This article was amended on 9 June 2015 to add a Labour
party statement that no complaint was made about the biscuits.
I love being limited in the food I use, not least because it makes deciding
what to eat that much easier. That’s one reason I was more than happy to support
the recent Meat-Free Week, quite apart from the obvious health and ethical
arguments. That campaign got me to think again about tofu, which I came to late
in life. This bean curd-based block makes a surprisingly good natural “sponge”
for other flavours, and it’s pretty healthy, too. For this week’s first recipe,
I’ve tossed tofu in mushrooms, celery and aromatics, for an easy, tasty
stir-fry. Today’s second recipe, meanwhile, is a welcome byproduct of a recent
ice-cream-making splurge at home. The problem with ice-cream is it leaves you
with egg whites, which I find irritating, because, try as I might, I am yet to
learn to love meringue. Luckily, I’ve got a cracking and thoroughly
authentic macaron recipe all the way from the Basque country.
Stir-fried shitake mushrooms with tofu and sherry
This is a homage to my grandmother, who made the most aromatic and tasty chop
suey with chicken or pork. This version is veggie, using mushrooms and tofu
instead, and it’s amazingly satisfying. Serves four. 450g tofu (if possible, use those cartons of fresh tofu stored in
water) Salt and freshly ground black
pepper 1 large yellow onion, peeled 400g
shitake mushrooms (or a range of mushrooms) 3 cloves garlic,
peeled 2.5cm piece fresh ginger,
peeled 1 large head celery 1 tbsp brown
miso ½ tsp sugar 100ml hot water or
stock 80ml manzanilla sherry Brown rice
or noodles, to serve Sunflower or peanut
oil ½ tsp chilli flakes 2-3 tbsp toasted
sesame oil 1 large handful coriander leaves, roughly chopped
As with all stir-fries, you need your ingredients prepped and ready to go
before you start cooking. Drain the tofu, cut into 2cm cubes and put in a bowl.
Cover the tofu with boiling water and season with half a teaspoon of salt. Leave
to soak for 15 minutes, then tip into a sieve. Meanwhile, slice the onion and
mushrooms, finely chop the garlic and finely grate the ginger; put each in a
separate bowl. Cut off and discard the stem of the celery head, clean the stalks
and cut into 1cm rounds. Put the miso and sugar in a bowl or jug, add the hot
water or stock, and leave to dissolve. Add the sherry to the miso. At this
stage, boil some brown rice or noodles, whichever you prefer.
Once the noodles or rice are nearly done, you’re ready to stir-fry – it takes
but minutes. Heat two tablespoons of oil in a wok and add the mushrooms. Season
with salt and pepper, and fry on a high heat for about 10 minutes, tossing
regularly, until they have released all their liquid and it is starting to
evaporate. Add the garlic, ginger and chilli, and stir-fry until the mushrooms
have darkened and are golden in parts.
Transfer the mushroom mixture to a bowl, and add another two tablespoons of
oil to the wok. Add the onions and fry, stirring, for five minutes, then add the
celery and stir-fry for five minutes more. Return the mushrooms to the wok,
together with the stock and sherry mix, bring up to simmering point and leave to
bubble for a few minutes. Stir in the tofu and sesame oil, and heat through the
tofu in the sauce for a few minutes – don’t stir too much, otherwise the tofu
will break up. Scatter over the coriander, and serve with rice or noodles, and
soy sauce and/or chilli sauce on the side.
Orange blossom macarons
Thomasina Miers’ orange blossom macaroons: ‘Deliciously
crunchy and gooey.’ Photograph: Johanna Parkin for the Guardian. Food styling:
Maud Eden
My take on some deliciously crunchy and gooey macarons I came across a few
years ago in St Jean de Luz, a lovely village near Biarritz – I became quite
nutty about them (sorry), not to mention obsessed with working out how to
recreate them at home. Makes about 20. A little oil, for greasing 100g egg whites (ie,
the white from 2 large, or 3 small, eggs) 250g unrefined
icing sugar 200g ground almonds 1½ tbsp
orange blossom water Zest of ½
orange Salt
Heat the oven to 200C/390F/gas 6. Line two large baking trays with
greaseproof paper and oil them lightly (if you have nonstick silicon sheets, use
these instead – they are amazing: nothing sticks to them). In a large
bowl, stir together half the egg whites and all the icing sugar, almonds, orange
blossom water, orange zest and a pinch of salt – you should end up with a thick
paste.
In a separate, spotlessly clean bowl, whisk the remaining egg whites to stiff
peaks, then fold into the paste bit by bit, taking care not to knock out too
much air. Dollop heaped teaspoons of the mix at least 2cm apart on the lined
tray, and bake for 15-17 minutes, until golden and solid to the touch. Gently
pull each macaron away from the paper while still hot, so they don’t stick, then
leave to cool on the tray.
And for the rest of the week…
Any leftover pork from a Sunday roast makes a great addition to the stir-fry,
as does some sliced pork belly or pancetta. I always over-buy mushrooms, so I
can fry the extra in hot butter, garlic and parsley for about 15 minutes, until
golden. They’re such a useful standby to have in the fridge for last-minute
suppers: add cream for deluxe mushrooms on toast; or whizz with butter for a
quick pâté. The macarons are very moreish, so if you worry that you’re eating
too many, break up any left, stir through some freshly made vanilla ice-cream
and keep in the freezer for a rainy day. It’s great with homemade chocolate
sauce (as is just about everything).
Mohinga, or catfish soup, is served at breakfast in Burma. For 15 years,
Aung San Suu Kyi’s cook brought it to her guards while she was under house
arrest.
Serves four Blitz a peeled thumb of ginger, two garlic cloves, a stick
of lemongrass, a pinch of chilli powder, a teaspoon of turmeric and a tablespoon
of light oil. Pour into a pan and gently fry for two minutes, then add three
sliced shallots and a pinch of salt; add oil as needed. Saute for 10 minutes;
don’t brown. In a dry pan, toast two tablespoons each of rice flour and gram
flour for a minute, until pale brown, then whisk into a litre of fish stock.
Pour into the onion pan with two teaspoons of fish sauce, simmer for 10 minutes,
until it thickens, then add 350g white fish pieces (traditionally catfish) and
90g cooked vermicelli rice noodles. Simmer for three minutes. Serve with
coriander, wedges of lime, fried shallots, sliced spring onion, chilli and
boiled egg.
So many 90s food trends – the foccaccia, for example – have thankfully stayed
in the past. But there is one 90s throwback I am always pleased to see on the
menu: the affogato.
Remember them? Literally meaning “drowned”, the combination of hot espresso
over ice-cream creates a concoction that’s neither a coffee float nor a coffee
spider, and like most good things, the best one you’ll ever have is probably the
first one you downed.
Few things are as simple yet so fulfilling. The path there is zen itself:
take ice-cream, or gelato if it’s your preference, and scoop it into a glass or
cup. Then freeze the cup with the scoop in it so it’s ice-cold. Cold ice-cream +
cold cup = ice-cream won’t melt. Affogato with
biscotti. Photograph: Alper
Çuğun/flickr
Choose your favourite bean (opt for a bean well-suited to milk) and always
use espresso – never, ever instant coffee, though an espresso pot might work at
a pinch. Then, when you’re ready, pour your coffee directly on to the ice-cream
and serve immediately. You could spike it with a shot of booze (think Amaretto
or Frangelico) or garnish with biscotti. Either way, the cold cup keeps the
ice-cream solid, leaving you to scoop the perfect mix of cold and hot with each
mouthful.
Purists stick with vanilla ice-cream – others, like Sydney’s Campos, get
sneaky and scoop Belgian white chocolate into a frozen latte glass, pressing the
scoop down hard into the glass so the coffee stays up top, coating every
spoonful with caffeinated bliss.
Enmore’s world-topping Cow and the Moon combine Italian-sourced caramelised
almonds with single-origin coffee and Madagascan vanilla – but you’ll need to
order separately if you want it as a real affogato, with the coffee poured on.
With queues just for gelato regularly topping 30 minutes, that’s a tall order.
Chef Allegra McEvedy’s affogato.Photograph: Martin Godwin/The Guardian
Other places, like the Lab near Wynyard in Sydney, go free-form and have a
soft-serve machine up front for patrons to swirl their own ice-cream into a cup
before they pour the coffee on. The result is a rich, if childhood-tinged
outcome reinforced by the playful candy-striped cups.
Never too hot, rarely too cold, the perfect affogato is always just right.
What makes the perfect affogato hit?
