celebrate national hotdog day with a chicago dog with the works

a chicago dog with the works

Much as I love and am curious about history, it seems that as far as family history goes that for the first twenty years of my life I wasn't asking the right questions. I only found out a few months before my Irish grandmother's death that she had actually been brought up in New York, only returning to Ireland at 15 just before the outbreak of World War 1, before running away to England to seek her fortune. "Why didn't you tell me?" I wailed. "I didn't think you'd be interested," she said somewhat bemused. Argh! I am so disappointed that I lost the opportunity to perhaps get a little closer to my grandmother and to learn what living in one of the most exciting cities at the beginning of the 20th century was like.

socca (chickpea flour pancakes)

socca (chickpea flour pancakes)

I've been "socca'ing" a lot recently. But before you roll your eyes and wince at the idea of me shimmying around the kitchen in sequins and a few gently swaying ostrich feathers in best Brazilian stylee, I should add that all I am actually doing is making a load of socca - Provençal chickpea flour pancakes, a popular Nicoise streetfood, where they are cooked in huge flat pans, the size of small cartwheels. You'll also find them just across the French border, in the Italian region of Liguria, where they are known as farinata.

celebrate chinese new year with dragon cookies (loong peng)

dragon cookies (loong peng)

When Malaysian Chinese people found out that I was born in the Year of the Dragon, they cooed and petted me. "Pantai" (clever) they said. You will be very lucky, they said. Very auspicious. Noble, they said. (Annoying, bossy, old big head, said my little brother).

chorizo, nutella, sour cheese and pickled apple crostini

chorizo and nutella crostini with pickled apples and labneh

A few years ago I started to make a party canape that was essentially a crostini smeared with Nutella (chocolate hazelnut spread) and topped with a crisp slice of Spanish chorizo sausage. While some people were a bit suspicious of the combination of cured pork with chocolate, they were usually won over by the flavour. What it lacked in sophistication, it definitely made up for in taste. It is, if I say so myself, a bit fabulous.

The reason why I think it works is because of the synchronicity in “companion eating” - serving meat with the kind of fruit or vegetables the animal might once have eaten - so venison with blackberries, or pork with apple and nuts. The peppery spices in the chorizo also seem to have an affinity with both hazelnuts and chorizo.

a story of a Goth, a grandmother and baklava, with a sting in the tale!

honey nut baklava

I am thinking about Christmas baking and alternatives to the usual spiced cakes. I want to make some baklava, filo pastry stuffed with spiced nuts and drenched in a honey syryp, which reminded me of my first ever baklava experience and possibly the most disastrous "meet the family" episodes of my life.

boozy rum babas with lemongrass and lime syrup

boozy rum babas drenched in l
emongrass and lime syrup

Have you ever looked through the cookbooks of the 1950's, 60's and 70's? As a child, I would pore over my mother's cookbooks, avidly absorbing the technicolour photographs and the sort of food that inevitably my mother didn't cook. I suspect that my fascination came from the novelty value of the food presentation as well as the magically named dishes. At restaurants, I would choose courses based on how they sounded, (much as I study form on the rare of occasions that I go to the races - which probably explains why I never win anything).

deep- fried breaded camembert with spicy plum sauce

deep-fried camembert with spicy plum sauce

As a truculent teen-aged vegetarian, I wasn't expecting much (well too many veggie options) from the French bistro my long-suffering parents had dragged me to. But my gloomy expectations were turned upside down; the first course of deep-fried Camembert with a gooseberry sauce was a bit of a revelation for me. It was so good, that I had it for my second course since by now I was in melted cheese nirvana and never wanted to leave.

Since gooseberries aren't in season, but plums are, I made a sweet but spicy plum compote (again!) to go with the gooey cheese bites. Any leftover plums are fabulous in a crumble too, so you have two recipes for the price of one.

a zesty plum and allspice crumble (puts a spring in my step!)

zesty plum and allspice nut crumble

So I am bouncing energetically around the kitchen singing "There is nothing like a plum" to the tune of South Pacific's "There is nothing like a dame" while my plum compote is simmering away on the stove. This is my version of multi-tasking and is guaranteed to raise my spirits, even if my adopted cat tries to put her paws over her ears, before stalking off disgruntled to find quieter shores.

But if life can be improved for a few lovelorn, jolly jack tars by day-dreaming of gorgeous girls, I am pretty sure that curvaceous juicy purple plums cooked down with aromatic allspice can do an awful lot for my beating heart too. 

There is simply nothing like a plum.

and now for something completely different: Malaysian steamed layer cake - kuih lapis

kuih lapis (Malaysian layer cake)

Malaysian cakes and desserts are often tooth-achingly sweet, but this one is so pretty that it is hard to resist. But this cake comes with a warning. Not only is it a right old faff to make, although I regard it as an afternoon of time well-spent, just so that I can tick it off my list of things I must learn to bake. (I bet they'd never have this on Great British Bake Off!).

an english potherb and soft cheese pie, with a little help from yotam ottolenghi

an english potherb and soft cheese pie

On the rare occasions that the sun has graced us with its presence this summer, my thoughts turn to both picnics and packed lunches in the park - food that is easy to transport, which can hang about for a while without any serious deterioration and which, of course, is utterly delicious. ((Is this a kind of multi-tasking?)

One of my absolute favourite things to bring to a picnic, or indeed any party, is spanakopita, a cheese and herb filo pie (or little triangles) from Greece and popular in many forms around the Mediterranean and Middle East.

apple and mincemeat suet dumplings - a little treat for george orwell

apple and mincemeat suet dumplings

How do you submit a recipe for a recipe swap on the subject of LOCAL when your locality seems bereft of any iconic foods? It's time to get creative, or that's what I tried to do recently in a submission for The Guardian's new Cook section and their weekly Readers' Recipe Swap, around the theme of LOCAL.

greek easter bread: tsoureki

Greek Easter Bread - Tsoureki

I find it hard to window shop or merely browse at Phoenicia, my local Turkish and middle eastern grocery in Kentish Town, north London. Inevitably I return home clutching a bag of interesting spices or a jar of preserved vegetables although without any clear idea of what I am going to do with it. The lime powder sat in my larder for over six months before it emerged dustily blinking into the light only to be lobbed into a cold drink for summer and my posh popcorn recipe (more of these another time).

sticky demerara orange and almond loaf cake

sticky demerera orange
and almond cake

I seem to be obsessed with citrus fruit at the moment. It probably isn't that surprising since apart from stores of apples and pears, British fruit isn't in season. But I am more than happy to satisfy my need for fruit by eating some that is in season somewhere else. Which doesn't strictly adhere to my intention to only cook seasonally and locally. But I've always liked bending the rules, particularly when they are my own.

So in the past few weeks, apart from gloating over my haul of citron beldi (like a fat, scaly dragon covetously protecting her precious hoard), I seem to return home every day with yet more citrus fruit, from blood oranges to minneolas. The blood oranges have to be a given really because their magic is in the secret lurking under their skin - a beautiful deep pink flesh and juice. Truly glorious stuff.

sweets for your sweet, sugar for your honey: valentine shortbread hearts!

Valentine shortbread hearts:
clementine and dark chocolate

Sweets for my sweet,
Sugar for my honey,
Your first sweet kiss thrilled me so.
Sweets for my sweet,
Sugar for my honey,
I'll never ever let you go.
(Doc Pomus and
Mort Shuman - 1961)

I am not sure whether it is worse to be single on Valentine's Day, or whether it is actually worse to be in a relationship, what with the neon-pink commercialisation that has vanquished all of the dewy-eyed innocence of earlier centuries. But hey ho, it's the thought that counts and this heart-shaped sweet treat works beautifully as a delicious gesture of love, whichever day it is.

wow factor! celeriac, onion and blue cheese pithiver

celeriac, onion and Stilton pithiver

It's the roar of the crowd; the cries and adulation that make me tingle with pleasure. Hello London!
 
As the rapturous reception dies down, the applause quietens, and the cheers of "Oh my god, Rachel, that's amazing!" fade away, I blush prettily, shrug modestly and murmur "Oh it was nothing, but I'd like to thank . . ."

"Pop"!

And the cheesy, dreamy fantasy bursts as I come down to earth and look at expectant supper-hungry faces - "Well it looks alright, but what's in it?" and my particular favourite "It's vegetarian? I don't eat vegetarian". 

have I created a new life form in the kitchen?

alien life form or runaway icing?

Am I having a Victor Frankenstein moment in the kitchen? Have I created a new life form? Or could it be that my icing has just made a bid for freedom?

There are days when you know that things just aren't going to turn out well; that it will probably end in tears - very likely your own. I've been having a couple of those kinds of days.

winter pork and blue cheese crumble with apple, leek and cider

winter pork and blue cheese crumble
with apple, leeks and cider

I see raised eyebrows and quizzical looks when I mention that I've made a savoury crumble for supper. "Can you do that?" people ask. "Of course I can do that" I think. It's not as if I need Superman - there is no heavy lifting involved!

I suppose most people associate crumble with fruit, dessert and custard. But think of it this way - any stew, casserole or bake that would normally be topped with say potatoes, dumplings or breadcrumbs can be turned into a crumble. Replace the sugar in your crumble topping with Parmesan cheese and you have a delicious crunchy topping for any winter warming supper.

the peasant deep inside: sausage and lentil stew

sausage and lentil stew

When the temperature drops to zero, I reach inside myself for warming reserves and get in touch with my inner peasant. Halloo, I say. And my inner peasant takes a break from hoeing spuds, drunken brawling and chewing on pigs' ears to embrace with me a winter-warming  and hearty stew of sausages and lentils.

clementine and dark chocolate chip shortbread stars

Clementine and Dark Chocolate Chip
Shortbread Stars

Shortbread is one of my favourite sweet indulgences. But I usually like it plain and think that shortbread really shouldn't be mucked about with. But recently a friend baked some chocolate chip shortbread biscuits and they were rather nice indeed. I am prepared to admit that I was wrong; I have seen the light! 

on a frosty january morning: nigel slater's almond, marzipan and berry cakes

Nigel Slater's almond, marzipan and berry cakes

I awoke to a frosty morning. Looking through my kitchen window, I could see that my garden had a light coating of snow, dusting the few trees and bushes in my back garden. The stone paths and wooden furniture had a patina of sparkling frost that shimmered in the early light. "It'll be mud by noon."; I thought to myself prosaically and turned my mind to the more pressing of the day's engagements. "What should I bake today?"

The gentle frost and muted colours of my garden made me think of a beautiful photograph by Jonathan Lovekin in Nigel Slater's Kitchen Diaries II, for almond, marzipan and berry cakes. The recipe is on page 44 and the photograph on the facing page of Kitchen Diaries II.