#it was only 2 tsp of red pepper flakes too what the fuck

[marinatedegg]

looking through nyt cooking recipes and one was for "spaghetti all'assassina" and its just fucking jarred sauce, red pepper flakes, and garlic and then cooking the pasta into the tomato sauce

[luckystarchild]

Bomb AF Lentil Taco Filling

I made lentil tacos this evening and I swear to god I almost fucking died, I loved them so damn much.

This might sound gross to some of you, but you know that heavily spiced and so-bad-it’s-good greasy taste of a plain-old Taco Bell taco? These tacos tasted like that, only with virtually no oil whatsoever. All you get is the fiber of lentils (underrated kitchen hero, lentils) and the in-your-face punch of delicious, delicious spices.

This pic might not be too inspiring, but the taste sure as hell was.

Disclaimer: I haven’t had meat from Taco Bell in more than a decade (yay, #veglife), so I’m not the best judge of the true Taco-Bell-ness of this taco filling. BUT my meat-eating boyfriend is a Taco Bell fiend (cue side-eye) and he was like, “I’d fuck up a plate of these tacos and go back for more, EASY.” He agreed that they were reminiscent of Taco Bell, but better in the sense that they were clearly not going to stop your heart with grease. Staying alive is nice, blah blah blah, you get it.

ANYWAY. Here’s what I did. Make ‘em yourself and thank me later.

You’re gonna need the following:

1 cup dried lentils

1 medium onion (I used yellow)

garlic cloves, like 6 maybe, IDK your life or your palate

2 1/2 cups of veggie broth, low sodium for ~health reasons~, with a little extra in case you need more near the end

1 tsp neutral-ish oil

And then you need your spice list. I guess you could use a premade taco seasoning packet, but making your own spice mix rocks because you can adjust the flavors to suit your individual tastes. This is my mix; I tend to use heaping teaspoons and flat tablespoons, so I guess these measures aren’t exactly-exact. They’re close enough, though.

1/4 tsp onion powder

1/4 tsp garlic powder

1/4 tsp oregano, dried

1/4 tsp red pepper flakes

1/2 tsp paprika (smoked)

1 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

1 1/2 tsp cumin, powered

1 tbsp chili powder

Directions:

Dice your onion and garlic; I used a yellow onion and like 6 cloves of garlic, but feel free to adjust. Add these and a teaspoon of your oil of choice (I used olive) to a nonstick pot with deep-ish edges (like this one, my fav pot ever) and cook over medium until the onions are no longer crunchy. 

Add your spice mix and 1 cup dried lentils to the onions/garlic and let all the flavors get to know each other—so like, cook it for a minute or two until your kitchen starts smelling really nice. Do not burn your seasonings or my grandmother will rise from her grave and smack you with a wooden spoon or a shoe, whichever is closest at hand.

Add your veggie broth to the mix. Amp up the heat and bring it to a boil before reducing to a simmer. Leave it covered for about 30 minutes, until lentils are tender.

Take the cover off your lentils and let ‘em thicken up, stirring every now and then so crap doesn’t stick to the bottom and burn. If they seem under cooked at all, add more veggie broth and then cook it down some more.

FOR THE LOVE OF MY GRANDMOTHER’S GHOST, TASTE THE FUCKING THING HERE!!! Add salt if you need to. Add more garlic powder if you need to. Taste it, ruminate, and make adjustments. This is YOUR taco filling and YOU need to love it, so make it your own, please.

Put your lentil taco filling on a tortilla or a taco shell (or fuck it, a taco salad, IDFC), slather it in whatever toppings your heart desires, and enjoy a taco that won’t kill you and is tasty as fuck.

I put my filling on whole wheat, low-carb tortillas, then topped it with romaine, tomato, avocado, cilantro and sour cream. The boyfriend ate his with cilantro and raw onion. Both renditions were great. We’re gonna fuck up the leftovers tomorrow. Next time I’ll experiment with adding some jalapenos and other non-dried stuff to the cooking mix.

Shout out to one of my fav food sites, “Mexico in My Kitchen,” which features legit recipes and not my Taco-Bell-ish lentil abomination. Want to make some seriously delicious Mexican food? That’s where you learn how.

[the-coconut-asado]

NUT MILK CITY LIMITS

This should have been my Boston blog. And I will write one, someday soon. 

But limited as we are to four walls, dodging pavement cyclists and the kindness of delivery folk, let’s settle for a tale of lockdown invention. 

That said, my story does start in Boston - or rather, leaving it. It was the real start of The Weird, around early-mid March, when I still took the tube into work and was looking forward to a visit to the hairdresser (lockdown was announced the day before my appointment in case you were wondering. So there will be no selfies here).  We managed to head off to the US the day that Trump banned the rest of Europe from flying and I won’t lie, we felt lucky. I sat next to a Canadian student on the flight who explained, as she coughed, that she had traded her study trip around  Europe for a £2,000 ticket-chance of getting home. 

We got to our faintly Psycho- throwback hotel that night, where we seemed to be the only guests. And for three days we toured the (mostly shut)  sites of Boston with the streets all but empty. 

At one stage, as we strolled past a CVS store, two young women emerged, insanely juggling 4x16 pack toilet roll bags. How we laughed. The way those pesky kids laugh as the Scooby-ghoul looms behind them. On the Sunday, any holiday vibe had been replaced with low level anxiety, counting down the hours to our flight leaving the US on time and as planned.

And since we landed back in London, that’s been it. Travel now means taking the car for a weekly local drive to keep the battery ticking over, and let’s not dwell on the cancelled trip to Vietnam. The Supermarket Sweep race as you grab random packs off shelves before the personal space invader twats sneak up behind you  is now replaced by the delivery time lotto of Amazon Fresh. Got a formula for that, Dale Winton? 

But there have been new things to smile about: neighbourhoods coming together every Thursday evening to Clap for Carers; the bravery of NHS workers and a whole army of people I hope we’ll never take for granted again; friends and family checking in on each other much more than ever usual. And the travel buzz achieved by changing our backgrounds on Zoom. Don’t knock it,  the endorphin kick is real. 

And dare I say there have been pleasures too: delicious meat, fish and vegetables delivered from local suppliers, and weekends full of invention possibilities. “ Are we all fucking bakers now??” Twitter ranted in week 2 of lockdown  as flour and eggs became the New Disappeared. Cashew milk, the one nut milk I enjoy, became similarly scarce for a short while, but I discovered the eye-wateringly expensive delights of Milkadamia until sanity returned. 

Faced with the random nature of vegetable boxes, half used packs of speciality flours otherwise doomed to outlive their sell by date and the excitement of what you can achieve with a carton of buttermilk and bicarb of soda - life in the kitchen is nothing short of a blast right now. Just like wartime? We have no rationing and plenty of Chipotle paste so, er, no. 

Breaking my veg box virginity has been liberating. There are the highs of high-sheen aubergines and those creamy new potatoes of the season, and the occasional low of celery on three consecutive weeks. But the thrill of anticipation when we open the door to a new box is palpable. And finding specialist suppliers for everything from sumac to burrata has made me realise that up until the pandemic I’d been shopping all wrong and wasting far too much money. With the simple elimination of impulse purchase I have hit my notional monthly food budget for the first time ever. 

So here are a bunch of recipes for what I consider my best lockdown experiments. Stock up on your store cupboard essentials and you can use whatever basics are available that week. And by store cupboard essentials I mean: Olive and coconut oils, smoked paprika, cumin, turmeric, chilli flakes, soy sauce, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda (you don’t need yeast for soda bread or flat breads). And whatever flour you can find, you’ll be able to do something with it. 

Bolli-cauli biryani with camargue rice

Forget boiling cauliflower ever again. Chop florets, toss them in spice and oil and roast to crispy, caramelised deliciousness every time. Serves 2-3. 

Ingredients

1 medium cauliflower, cut into florets, then cut each floret in half to create bite size pieces

The cauliflower leaves, pulled from the fibrous stalks

2 medium red onions, quartered

1-2 large red chillies, split from top to bottom but kept intact

2 tsp. Sumac

2 tsp ground cumin

1 tsp kosher salt

Generous grind of black pepper

1 tsp chilli flakes

3 tbsp. Olive oil

300g camargue red rice (1 small mug)

25g salted butter

Plan yoghurt to serve

How to make:

Heat the oven to 190C. 

In a large bowl, toss the cauliflower, cauliflower leaves, chillies and onion (and any other chunky vegetable you hav in the fridge eg.squash, aubergine or courgettes) with the spices and olive oil. Spread out onto a large roasting pan and pop into the oven for 40-45 mins, turning everything half way through. The edges of the vegetables will caramelise and the leaves will crisp up. 

Meanwhile, heat the butter in a saucepan until it bubbles then add the rice and toss until you get a toasty aroma. If you used a small cup, then now add a small cup and an extra quarter cup (or if you measured 300g then add 400ml water) and a generous pinch of salt. Bring to the boil, stirring once and then simmer on a medium heat until the water is all but absorbed (about 15-20  mins). At this point, cover with a lid, turn the heat to low and cook for a further 10-15 mins. Turn off the heat and leave covered for a further 10 minutes before fluffing the rice up. 

When the bolli-cauli is ready, remove from the oven and serve over a generous scoop of the toasty, chewy buttery camargue rice. Add a dollop of yoghurt on the side and some mango chutney to serve. And treat yourself to some poppadoms for the crunch factor. 

Beer and Buttermilk Soda Bread

My favourite bread of the lockdown - and no yeast required.  Based on a Paul Hollywood recipe, mine replaces stout with any old beer or lager you may have  in the fridge, and a range of ‘bin end flours: Wholemeal, basic brown, spelt and strong white. 

Ingredients: 

500g wholemeal flour (or a mix of any brown or grain flours you have)

250g strong white flour

280ml buttermilk

300ml bottle of beer or lager

2 tsp salt

2 Tbsp. bicarbonate of soda

How to make:

Mix the flours, bicarbonate of soda and salt in a large bowl. 

Make a well in the centre and add the buttermilk and beer. 

Mix until everything comes together then knead gently until you have a cohesive ball. 

Pop into a 2lb loaf tin and press slightly into the corners.

Leave to rest for 30 mins. 

Heat the oven to 210C. Bake the loaf for 10 minutes, then turn the oven down to 180C and bake for a further 25-30 minutes. Cool in the tin for 10 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack. The base should sound hollow when you tap it. 

Cool then slice and slather with butter. This bread is also excellent toasted. 

Spinach,  Ricotta and Feta  Pie

The superstar look of this pie as it emerges from the oven belies a super-easy method. If you can’t get hold of ricotta, just use cream cheese. Serves 4. 

Ingredients

7 sheets filo pastry

2 garlic cloves, chopped finely

1 medium onion, finely chopped

250g spinach

1 large egg

1 tsp. Grated nutmeg

250g ricotta, mascarpone or cream cheese. 

125g feta cheese, crumbled

Handful of fresh oregano leaves, chopped finely. 

100ml olive oil. 

1 tsp. Nigella seeds

How to make:

Heat the oven to 200C. 

Heat 1 tbsp. Olive oil in a frying pan then saute the onion and garlic on a low heat until soft. Add the spinach and cook gently until wilted - about 5 minutes. Turn into a sieve or colander and squeeze out as much liquid as you can. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper and put to one side. 

Beat the egg with the ricotta and nutmeg then season. Crumble in the feta, then add the spinach and onion mixture. 

Brush a 22cm loose bottomed cake tin with olive oil and lay a sheet of filo pastry along the bottom and the sides. Brush again with oil, then add a second sheet at an angle to the first. Keep brushing each sheet with oil, then adding the next layers at an angle until you have used six sheets and they are lining the tin in a flower petal formation. 

Tip the spinach and cheese mix into the tin then fold each ‘petal’ of filo on top to form a lid to the tart. Brush with more oil then scrunch up the seventh sheet of filo, perch it on top of the pie and brush with the remaining oil. Scatter over the nigella seeds. 

Pop into the oven for 25-30 minutes (watch the top so it doesn’t turn from golden to burnt). 

Remove from the oven, cool slightly, before releasing the sides of the tin and transferring the pie to a plate to serve. 

Carrot cake muffins with mandarin frosting

Not really the season for carrot-eating, but grated three carrots into this cake mix and you have a winner. And the frosting is a great way to use up mandarins. Makes 6 Large muffins. 

Ingredients

1.5 cups plain flour

1.5 tsp. Bicarb of soda

¾ cup demarara sugar

½ tsp. salt

½ tsp. Cinnamon

1 cup cashew nut milk

2 eggs, beaten

½ cup sunflower oil

1 tsp. Vanilla Extract

3 carrots, shredded

50g pecan nuts, roughly chopped. 

For the frosting: 

Juice of 1 mandarin

1.5 cups icing sugar

How to make

Heat the oven to 180C. 

In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, bicarb. Of soda, sugar, cinnamon and salt. Add the eggs, oil, vanilla and cashew nut milk and mix again until a smooth batter. Fold in the carrots and the pecans. 

In a muffin tin with 6 cases (or double the recipe and use 12). Fill each paper cup with the muffin batter until ¾ full then pop into the oven and bake for 20-25 minutes, until they are fully risen. 

Remove from the oven and cool in the tin before removing each muffin and placing on a cooling rack to cool completely. 

When the muffins are cool, mix the mandarin juice with the icing sugar until you have a smooth and sluggish paste. Ice each muffin and serve. 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

for the curious:

shit you need:

3 tbsp cooking oil

2 tsp cumin

1 tsp coriander

1 tsp chili powder

sprinkle of red pepper flakes and garlic powder. you decide how much, this is the kind of shit only your heart gets to decide.

1 onion

48 oz of chicken broth

28 oz crushed tomatoes

2 1/2 tsp salt

1 cup corn

1 cup black beans

Some Amount of Shredded Chicken. up to you depending on how meaty you want this soup to be. if you want to skip the chicken entirely and substitute in vegetable broth this could actually be a banging vegetarian tortilla soup. anyway, I used two large chicken breasts.

Mexican shredded cheese blend for topping, but obvi you can skip this to use your preferred toppings

what to do with the shit:

obviously we're going to start by seasoning, cooking, and shredding the chicken. just get that shit out of the way at the start it will be too much of a pain in the ass to do later.

ditto for chopping up that onion.

great, now that we got all the mixins prepared it's time to get cooking. put the oil in a large pot (the biggest pot you have, 6 fucking cups of broth are going in this baddie) and heat it on medium.

throw in the spices. marvel at the smell. really cherish it.

now dump in your chopped up onion and let that cook for 3ish minutes. stir as often as needed to make sure nothing is sticking to the bottom of the pot.

add the broth, crushed tomatoes, and salt.

let simmer for 15ish minutes, then add the corn and beans.

simmer for another 10ish before adding your chicken.

sprinkle in a bit more salt and pepper to taste and serve that shit UP. throw on the cheese or whatever you like on top of your soup. god bless.

made a tortilla soup that's slaying absolute penis, lads

[the-coconut-asado]

HOW I GET INTO BARS IN MANHATTAN

I am going to tell a story about good and bad service and it’s going to take me a few paragraphs before you get to the recipes. Buckle up and pour yourself a cocktail.

Back in eighties New York no smart restaurant or bar staff line-up was complete without a generous dollop of sass. I liked the honesty of the ‘take it or fuck you’ service culture, often accompanied by a smile and a shrug. Now, on a bad day, (and most days in New York are good), you get a thin veil of courtesy, dipped in the nail polish of smug contempt.

Now, I have been to some great bars in Manhattan with sizzlingly good service. Dan the mixologist at Attaboy for example, a speakeasy in Chinatown, left me schoolgirl-dizzy with delight from what in retrospect were a few vaudeville tricks delivered with precision-charm. First there is the theatre of the entrance: a bashed-up door to an old tenement building on the edge of Chinatown, leading to a tiny corridor of a bar. Dan glided over and asked me what kind of things I liked to drink, what I wanted from life and if I watched The Crown on Netflix (I may have imagined at least two thirds of that). He then decided that a Kingsman Negroni would set my world alight. Damn! he was right, and I was almost teary when we had to leave to make our dinner booking.

Some other bar experiences have not been so serendipidous. Take the rooftop bar at a new budget-yet-hipster-with-no-coffee-in-your-room boutique on the Lower East Side. Staying there last summer, I tried to book myself and a friend in for a drink on my first evening. I got sizzlingly good booking service (see above) by way of reply: “Absolutely no need for you to book Mrs Bentley! As a guest you get automatic access with a plus one!”

If you thought this was sorted, then you would be wrong.

My mate Mel and I rocked up to the rooftop pretty early on that stiflingly hot summer evening. The bouncer at the door had that combination of faultless good manners and computer-says-no attitude that sets your teeth on auto-grind. Yes, he said, we were free to go to the back indoor bar, but the outside bar (let’s face it the ONLY bar anyone wanted to go to) was full.

We squinted through the doorway. It really didn’t look that full.

“We want our guests to experience the pleasant ambience in the bar, so we like to keep numbers down” he whispered. I forgot to mention he was a soft talker, straight out of the Seinfeld playbook.

While he held us at bay with his lullaby tones, the fedora-topped host was pretending to ignore us, using the same body language as the Beverly Hills sourface in Pretty Woman.

I fixed a smile on my face and continued: “If we go into the back bar, will you tell us when space comes free?’

“I’m afraid I can’t do that” the bouncer whispered in downsized Matt Damon-like tones: ‘We let people in on a first come first served basis. Unless you booked’.

‘I tried to book, I was told that I didn’t need to as I am a guest.’

‘If you haven’t booked you need to wait in the back bar.’

‘In that case we’ll wait here”, Mel chipped in.

‘I’m afraid you can’t wait here ladies, you’re blocking the walkway’ – ah! the host had finally decided to notice us.

“I think we will wait though’ I replied, still smiling winningly, with an only faintly discernible tick in my cheek.

This was a dance and we decided to settle into the rhythm. The host went back to studying her fingernails and the bouncer intensified the low voice so that we could only hear every third word. He seemed to be saying " You do have entry to the bar, but not if it is full.”

“But it’s not full!!”

“It’s our policy and there’s nothing I can do. I am triste for you.”

I could have sworn he said triste, or he may have said ‘piste’ which is what Mel and I should have been by now. And the French flavour of superiority he had adopted made me angry. Don't worry mate, I thought, I can play this game till les vaches come home.

The stand-off continued. The two of us refusing to move, the gatekeepers refusing to meet our gaze. And all the while we could glimpse the seductive but disappearing sunset on the terrace. Then, quite suddenly, balance of power shifted in our favour. Three socialites – a good two decades younger and well hipper than us, I’ll leave it there  -  swanned past us. They had clearly booked. And they were clearly the right demographic. I sashayed over to the host.

“I’m confused. I see those ladies booked and you let them in. And yet no one has left the outside bar. Should I have gone medieval with the booking service when they said I could bowl up as a hotel guest,and insist they should make a reservation for me? Or maybe I should just be younger?’

Busted. For a split second her insouciant mask slipped and she grimaced. And then she let us in. And the sunset, the view, and the heady aroma of NYC jeunesse d'ore was worth it - for a couple of hours at least. I haven’t been back. 

But before you get ‘triste’ that the world really is only for the young, the hip and the restless, then leave the bars and head for the food and drink festivals – where even my 92 year old auntie pictured here (who by the way is hip enough to use Whatsapp to great sarcastic advantage) gets great service.  

The artisanal food markets around the City such as the weekend Smorgasburg – which I have followed from Brooklyn Bridge to a Williamsburg car park to its most recent leafily affluent home in Prospect Park – give you great views (mostly), superiority-free service and delicious food and drink. It also gave me the inspiration for my Gingerbread Ice cream Sandwich, which I am sharing for you here. 

The best bars also serve amazing bar food. And while, Kingsman Negroni aside, I have rarely remembered a good cocktail,  I can snap-recall great food I have eaten with it. Here are a couple of food combinations I love in a bar-snackable format. Chin-chin.

Freaky Beets

If Kale is the food currency of New York, then beetroot is the bitcoin, i.e it’s both alternative and hyped. If you want clean food that is also unctuous and delicious then whip this up the next time you need a superfood boost to carbon-neutralise your alcohol intake. Small plates are also the perfect bar food. This one is a mash up of some Ottolenghi inspiration and a great little recipe I spied in Olive Magazine. Serves 4 as an appetizer.

Ingredients:

Four red raw beetroot and 2 raw golden beets, topped, peeled and cut into chunks (use non latex gloves to stop you getting your hands stained);

2 tsp. chilli flakes

2 large carrots, cut into chunks

Tblspn cumin

2 tbpn. Olive oil

Kosher salt and black pepper

2 tbsp. sherry vinegar

1 tsp honey.

3 tsp hazelnuts

3 tbsp. greek yoghurt.

Juice of ½ a lemon.

1 250g pouch ready to eat freekah.

A few basil leaves.

How to make

Heat the oven to 200C (or 190C Fan).

Pop the hazelnuts onto a baking sheet and roast for 5-10 mins until they are slightly browned and the skins peel off easily by rubbing a little. Chop and set aside.

Toss the chunks of beetroot and carrot with the chilli flakes, cumin, oil and seasoning, spread out in a shallow baking pan and roast for 40 mins.

Take the beets out and toss in the sherry and honey, then return to the oven for a further 5 minutes.

Mix the Greek yoghurt with the lemon juice, then season to taste.Warm the freekah through with a little water in a small saucepan.

Toss the warm beets and carrots with the freekeh in a serving bowl. Drizzle over the yoghurt dressing, then scatter with the hazelnuts and torn basil. Season again and drizzle with a little more oil, then serve.

Chilli fried squid with smashed borlotti beans

This takes literally 20 minutes from start to finish. To be eaten lingering over a glass of wine with a special someone that you don’t want to be seen stuffing your face in front of. Serves 2

 `ingredients

1 400g can borlotti beans

A few leaves of sage, chopped finely

1 sprig rosemary. Needles chopped finely

1 long red chilli

1 tsp red wine vinegar

Generous glug of olive oil.

½ tsp chilli flakes

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 anchovy fillets, chopped

Extra virgin olive oil

6 small squid, cleaned, trimmed, flattened and scored,  and suckers separated

Parsely to serve.

How to make:

Prepare the squid, rub some oil over it, season, and leave to one side on a plate.

Put the olive oil into a sturdy pot on a low heat, add the garlic and cook very slowly for five minutes. Add the sage, rosemary, chopped chilli, vinegar and anchovy fillets. Stir for a minute or two to combine, then add the borlotti beans and the chopped tomatoes. Continue to cook on a low heat for about 15-20 mins until the flavor combine and you have a thick consistency. Mash the beans a bit with a fork (but not too much, you stil want discernible beans on display in the finished dish).

Heat a frying pan, and when searing hot throw in the squid and chilli flakes and fry for 30 seconds to a minute until you have browned charred bits of squid but not yet overcooked or rubbery.

Fill a couple of pasta bowls with the beans, add the quid on top and garnish with chopped parsley. Drizzle a little olive oil over the squid and season again before serving.

Gingerbread ice cream sandwich

I had one of these on a scorchio day at the Smorgasboard in Prospect Park. Been wanting to recreate it ever since. My recipe leans heavily on The Violet Bakery for their chewy, treacly ginger nut, coupled with a non-churn ridiculously easy and foolproof ice cream inspired by the legend that is Mary Berry. Makes 6-8 sandwiches.

Ingredients:

For the ginger nuts:

210g plain flour

11/2 tsp ground cinnamon

11/2 tsp. ground ginger

¼ tsp ground cardamom

¼ tso. Ground coriander

1 tsp bicarbonate soda

125g unsalted butter

100g dark muscovado sugar

100g treacle11/2 tsp boiling water

Caster sugar for dusting

 For the ice cream:

4 large eggs, separated

100g caster sugar

300ml double cream

100g stem ginger, chopped into small pieces

2 tbsp syrup from the jar

30g chopped crystallized ginger

 How to make

First, make the ice cream.

Whisk the egg whites in a large bowl until stiff peaks form.Slowly whisk in the caster sugar, and continue to whisk until the mixture is stiff ang glossy.

Whisk the cream in a separate bowl until you have soft peaks. Fold the cream,egg yolks, and the stem ginger, syrup and crystallised ginger into the meringue mixture until well combined (don’t be heavy handed with this stage). Pour into a plastic container and freeze for two hours.

While the ice cream is freezing, make the ginger snaps.

Preheat the oven to 180C (170C fan). Line a baking sheet with baking parchment.

Measure all the dry ingredients (except for the muscovado sugar) into a bowl and mix well.

Beat the butter, brown sugar and treacle with an nelectric whisk until light and fluffy. Add the boiling water, then the dry ingredients and mix until combined.

Put some caster sugar in a small bowl. Scoop small spoons of mix, roll into a ball and then roll in the caster sugar, then place on the baking sheet and press slightly in the middle (these biscuits will spread a lot so don’t press down too hard). Repeat with the rest of the mix.

Pop into the oven and bake for 15 mins. The biscuits will still be softish when you take them out of the oven but they will harden as they cool down.

When the ginger nuts are completely cold and the ice cream firm but scoopable, Sandwich a scoop of ice cream between two ginger nuts and wrap in baking parchment before putting upright into a loaf tin. Repeat with you other biscuits, so they all fit snigly into the tin, then return to the freezer until you are ready to eat them. You can also serve this up as scoops of ice cream, on its own with ginger snaps on the side. 

[the-coconut-asado]

SALTA & SPICE

It happened over dinner in Agozar! on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Just like any good Film Noir. 

We were out with my Argentine cousin Steffi and her husband and had just tucked into a platter of spicy chicken empanadas, along with an array of other lip-tingling starters. I don’t know what made me say it – two cocktails down with an on-trend jalapeno spike, or the simple human urge to confide – but I blurted: “These empanadas are tastier than the ones I have eaten in Buenos Aires.”

Time did an emergency break stop. Steffi’s habitually sunny face snapped shut, and the atmosphere switched from fiesta to fucked-off faster than you could say ‘Mojito.’ “ I don’t think so,” she whispered curtly, eyes narrowed. Conversation shifted to more neutral ground for the rest of the meal. My comments soon went viral on our family Whatsapp group, and three months later I am still waiting for them to drop the subject.

The moral to this story is: never tell an Argentine that someone else does it better. A few blogs back I may have mentioned that Italian gelato is the best in the world. Fairly safe territory you would think but my husband told me I was taking a big risk putting Argentina in second place. In this instance, I was actually comparing a chicken empanada (not the traditional beef variety) with the Buenos Aires equivalent, and to be fair once any empanada takeaways stray from the original recipe, things can get a little shall we say, bland. In fact,  few can do empanada fast food in a country you thought would have nailed it.

What I didn’t realise, so little had I travelled around Argentina, was that I was judging this spicy Cuban delicacy against just one style of empanada. Let’s call it the Pasty of the Porteno. Beef, olives, egg and a smattering of herbs and cumin.

But my perspective broadened when I visited Salta this Autumn. Salta and neighbouring Jujuy are the Northern most provinces of Argentina. The air is thinner there, and the altitude higher. Step outside the city walls, and walk straight onto the set of a spaghetti western. Desert, cactus and dust. A world away from the 1930’s elan of the capital: more grounded, spiritual, visually stunning  - and most certainly poorer.

Salta isn’t parrilla country. You are more likely to be offered llama than steak. Not surprising given it’s proximity to Bolivia and Peru, the classic local dishes are tamales and humitas, not morcilla and provoleta. But the biggest difference here is their use of spices. They actually have a spice market in Salta where Buenos Aires society recoils in fear at the mention of a red pepper.

We ate our first Saltena empanadas in Quebrada de Humahuaca, a town of dusty beauty in a dramatic desert setting three and a half thousand feet above sea level. This was day two of our trip, and the night before we had eaten our first ever disappointing Argentine steak. A restaurant where they were disinfecting the glass door as we entered and mopping the floor as we were sitting down. The state of the bread rolls should have had us guessing how it would end. But that was yesterday and today we were full of hope and high on little oxygen.

The steps up to the restaurant had left me bewilderingly short of breath and light headed, thanks to what I was reliably informed later was mild altitude sickness. They served empanadas to start, which were pleasingly spicier than the norm, but nothing to write home about (and only written about here to keep the narrative thread going). This was followed by llama stew (sometimes you just eat stuff for the experience), and then a dessert that tasted better than it looked – cayote jam and goat’s cheese. The cayote plant is native to the region so don’t expect to see it in Sainsbury’s or Walmart any time soon. It tasted pleasant and sweet but the fruit flavour was non-specific.

By day three in the North, we finally started to get our food choices right. First up  - and you will gasp at this in the land of the cow on a spit -  we found perhaps one of the world’s best vegan rstaurants. The guidebook write up said we should be prepared to wait ages for our food in Chirimoya, but as it turned out, we didn’t wait that long, and it didn’t matter anyway. The atmosphere was like a day spa but with seductive food aromas instead of aromatherapy oils. We whiled away a stress-free couple of hours drinking freshly blended fruit juices and working our way through a platter of Pico lo Macho – their vegan interpretation of the classic Bolivian stew.

And second and most significant, we ate the best Saltena empanadas, and (I am happy to stake my reputation on it), the best empanadas I have ever tasted. They are served in La Criollita, a restaurant straight out of the 1940s, with caricatures of famous Argentine crooners and comedians on the walls and a proprietor straight out of ‘Allo ‘Allo. The empanadas were hot little parcels of yum and left a pleasing chilli hum on our lips, while the humidas and tamales we were then emboldened to order were simple yet moreish. Ambrosia in a cornhusk. 

If you never make it to Salta, you can get a taste of it by trying out my recipe for Saltena Empanadas, and relive the oasis that was Chirimoya with my version of their Pico lo Macho. I liked the idea of the jam and cheese dessert in Humahuaca, so have finished here with a dish that replaces the elusive cayote jam with home made membrillo, (the classic Argentine quince ‘cheese’) and goat’s curd whipped with crème fraiche. As my Auntie Grace would say, if you don’t like it then Hasta Luego!

 Saltenas Empanadas

Worth doubling this recipe, (my version of Enrique Zanoni’s recipe from Argentinian Street Food) if you are having a party. Easy to hold in one hand with a glass of wine in the other, though they do benefit from a dip in the accompanying tomato salsa, which could make a small plate necessary. Makes 8-10 empanadas.

Ingredients For the dough:

500g plain flour

2 tsp salt

80-100 ml sunflower oil

For the filling:

1 tblspn sunflower oil

250g rump steak, chopped into very small cubes

1 sliced red onion

2 tsp ground cumin

1 tsp ground coriander

1 tblspn Mexican ancho paste

1 tsp paprika

3 hard boiled eggs, chopped

1 potato, peeled and chopped into small cubes

Grated zest of ½ a lemon

 For the tomato Salsa:

3 medium tomatoes

1 onion, finely chopped

1 small red finger chilli, diced

1 clove garlic, crushed

1 tbsp dried chilli flakes

1 tbsp cayenne pepper

60ml extra virgin olive oil

 How to make:

Pop the potatoes into some boiling salted water and cook for about 10 minutes. Remove the potato and put to ones side, then add the rump steak to the boiling water and cook for 3 mins. Drain and set aside.  Saute the chopped onion in the oil on a low heat until softened and slightly caramelized, around 10 mins, then add the meat, the spices and the potato. Take off the heat, season with sea salt and freshly ground pepper and set aside while you make the dough. If you wish you can cover this and keep it in the fridge for several hours to develop the flavours.

 For the dough: Add the sunflower oil and 180g water to the flour and salt in a bowl. Mix until it has come together and then turn out onto a floured surface and knead for about 10 minutes until smooth and elastic (this is not flaky pastry you are making but a robust casing). Wrap in clingfilm or foil and rest for two hours.

While the dough is resting, make the salsa. Grate the tomatoes into a bowl, discarding the skin. Mix in the remaining ingredients and season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Roll out the dough onto a floured surface and, using a 14cm round pastry cutter, cut the dough into rounds. Spoon a tbpn of the steak and potato mixture into the middle and top with a little boiled egg. Moisten the edges with a little water, then fold into a half moon shape and seal the edges. Then fold the edge of the empanada into a series of little pleats (see photo) to give it the classic decorative edge. Repeat with the remaining empanadas.

Fill a wok with a litre of sunflower oil and heat to 180C or until a cube of bread turns brown and crisp in the oil. Carefully add a few empanadas at a time to the oil and fry for about 5 minutes, turning if necessary, until they are browned. If they are starting to brown too quickly, turn the heat down a little.

Drain on kitchen paper and serve warm with the salsa for dipping.

Vegan Pico lo Macho

This dish is a simple process of cooking, chopping and layering.

If you stick to the overall rule of mixing cooked, ambient and raw vegetables together, then you can pretty much make up your own combinations here. The real wow factor of this dish are the fried quinoa patties. If you are not vegan, you can substitute the tahini paste for a whisked large egg as a binding agent. Serves 4.

Ingredients

300g padron peppers

500g small new potatoes

1 large red pepper

1 large or 2 mall ripe avocadoes

Juice of 1 lime

1 large red onion,

raspberry vinegar

200g quinoa

tahini paste or 1 whisked egg

4 tomatoes, and 10 cherry tomatoes

250g chestnut mushrooms

25g olive oil

300ml olive or sunflower oil

 How to make:

Boil the new potatoes in plenty of water and some sea salt until they hold their shape but you can easily pass a knife through them. Toss in a little olive oil and set aside.

Cook the quinoa according to the instructions on the packet, then cool. Mix with the tahini paste and form into small flattened discs.

Char the red pepper and pardon peppers on a griddle until the skin blackens. Chop up and de-seed the pepper and toss the padron peppers in sea salt.

Cut a large red onion into rings and soak in enough raspberry vinegar to cover. Chop the tomatoes. Chop the mushrooms and fry in the olive oil until the juices start to run, then set aside (don’t discard the juice). Chop the avocadoes and toss in the lime juice.

Heat the olive or sunflower oil and fry the quinoa patties on both sides until golden. Drain on kitchen paper.

To assemble: Layer the vegetables, contrasting colours and textures and pouring the mushroom juices all over, on a platter, then dot the quinoa patties all around. If you wish, garnish with chopped parsley and serve immediately.

 Membrillo and Whipped Goat’s Curd.

One of my abiding childhood memories was of my Auntie Joan bringing over tins of membrillo when she visited us in London. Quinces are only in season for about a month here – mid October to mid November –but if you can find them, and work with them (they are unsympathetic to peel and chop as this picture shows) then this paste-like jam is easy, if not quick, to make. 

Makes enough for 18-20 slices. 

Ingredients:

For the membrillo:

3 Quinces, peeled, cored and cut into large chunks

1 large bay leaf

1 vanilla pod, split

Caster sugar (amount to be determined by quanitity of cooked quince).

To serve 4: 100g goat’s curd (you can buy this at Wholefood Stores or use cream cheese as a substitute); 2 tbpn crème fraiche.

How to make:

For the membrillo. Pop the quince chunks into a saucepan and cover with water. Add the split vanilla pod and the bay leaf. Bring to the boil then cover and simmer for around 40 minutes or until the quinces are soft enough to slide a knife through easily.

 Drain the liquid from the quinces, discard the vanilla pod and bay lead and liquidise in a food processor. Measure the quince puree back into a saucepan (should yield about 3 cups) then add the same quantity of caster sugar as you have quince puree. Cook over a low heat, stirring constantly until the sugar dissolves, then continue to cook, stirring occasionally for about 11/2 hours, until the pale yellow puree has gone a dark pink.

 Heat the oven to 100C. Pour the cooked paste into an 8in pie tin which has been greased and lined with baking parchment. Continue to cook in the oven for an hour. Remove from the oven and cool. At this point you can cover and refrigerate if you wish.

 To serve: whip the goats curd with the crème fraiche and smooth a generous tsp onto each plate. Add a slice of membrillo and enjoy.