Mar
30

Pasta alla carbonara This was what I made for dinner tonight. I’ve been making a lot of carbonara lately, trying out various minor variations; this one was based on this post at Serious Eats which was in turn based on a recipe from Zingerman’s Guide to Better Bacon. I doubled the cheese, though (using a 50/50 mix of pecorino and parmigiano-reggiano), and on a whim I added half a finely diced shallot in with the pancetta. Overall, I’d say this was the most successful one I’ve made yet. All my previous attempts have used a modest amount of cream and wine in the sauce, and consequently have been too wet on the plate. This one had a much better texture to the sauce. The only criticism I’d make is that the caramelised shallot added a slight brown tinge to the sauce which I wasn’t quite happy about. On the other hand it added a subtle sweet note to the flavour that I really liked, so maybe I’ll use shallots next time too.

Pasta alla carbonara

This was what I made for dinner tonight. I’ve been making a lot of carbonara lately, trying out various minor variations; this one was based on this post at Serious Eats which was in turn based on a recipe from Zingerman’s Guide to Better Bacon. I doubled the cheese, though (using a 50/50 mix of pecorino and parmigiano-reggiano), and on a whim I added half a finely diced shallot in with the pancetta.

Overall, I’d say this was the most successful one I’ve made yet. All my previous attempts have used a modest amount of cream and wine in the sauce, and consequently have been too wet on the plate. This one had a much better texture to the sauce. The only criticism I’d make is that the caramelised shallot added a slight brown tinge to the sauce which I wasn’t quite happy about. On the other hand it added a subtle sweet note to the flavour that I really liked, so maybe I’ll use shallots next time too.

Mar
21

Dinner tonight was my first attempt at quick-brining meat 1; in this case, pork chops. We used a brine based on this one; a simple mix of water, brown sugar, salt with peppercorns, thyme and a clove of garlic. We gave the meat 24 hours in the brine before washing it, patting dry, and frying over medium-high heat for about eight minutes. It turned out great — nicely seasoned, and with a strong taste of pork (but not overpowering). In the past I’ve often found pork chops bland but these certainly didn’t suffer from that. The texture was good too, although that’s probably partly down to buying good quality meat from my local butcher (Douglas Willis in Cwmbran) and cooking it well. The last time I made pork chops was years ago; I expect I was using supermarket meat and probably massively overcooked it. I served the pork with green beans and smashed potatoes based on a method from The Pioneer Woman. They are just visible in the photo, lost in a haze of bokeh. These also turned out very tasty, and I would recommend that recipe to anyone. —Rich My fellow O:S! writer Nick points out I’ve made salt (corned) beef a few times, which I’d forgotten. That takes weeks though, and produces a food which is basically a whole other thing to what you started with; so it feels like a different category of technique to me, even though it’s not really. ↩

Dinner tonight was my first attempt at quick-brining meat 1; in this case, pork chops.

We used a brine based on this one; a simple mix of water, brown sugar, salt with peppercorns, thyme and a clove of garlic. We gave the meat 24 hours in the brine before washing it, patting dry, and frying over medium-high heat for about eight minutes.

It turned out great — nicely seasoned, and with a strong taste of pork (but not overpowering). In the past I’ve often found pork chops bland but these certainly didn’t suffer from that. The texture was good too, although that’s probably partly down to buying good quality meat from my local butcher (Douglas Willis in Cwmbran) and cooking it well. The last time I made pork chops was years ago; I expect I was using supermarket meat and probably massively overcooked it.

I served the pork with green beans and smashed potatoes based on a method from The Pioneer Woman. They are just visible in the photo, lost in a haze of bokeh. These also turned out very tasty, and I would recommend that recipe to anyone. —Rich

  1. My fellow O:S! writer Nick points out I’ve made salt (corned) beef a few times, which I’d forgotten. That takes weeks though, and produces a food which is basically a whole other thing to what you started with; so it feels like a different category of technique to me, even though it’s not really. ↩

Feb
23

Dinner tonight: leftover jambalya enchilada Last night, we had blackened tuna with a “chorizo rice” recipe from the BBC. The rice dish ended up basically being jambalaya, particularly once I’d finished throwing celery, mushrooms, and some extra spices and herbs into it. We had a lot left over though. Lacking inspiration, I idly asked my friend Scott how he thought I should use it up and he suggested a burrito. Of course, a burrito is good, but it’s sadly deficient in melted cheese; and hence we arrived at enchilada town. I bulked the rice out with some chunks of chicken seasoned with fajita seasoning and my wife Danielle made fresh guacamole and assembled the burritos for me. It was delicious. It wasn’t as greasy as that photo makes it look either. The halogens in my kitchen are quite harsh, you see, and —- oh, who am I kidding. It was exactly that greasy. And definitely delicious. —Rich

Dinner tonight: leftover jambalya enchilada

Last night, we had blackened tuna with a “chorizo rice” recipe from the BBC. The rice dish ended up basically being jambalaya, particularly once I’d finished throwing celery, mushrooms, and some extra spices and herbs into it.

We had a lot left over though. Lacking inspiration, I idly asked my friend Scott how he thought I should use it up and he suggested a burrito. Of course, a burrito is good, but it’s sadly deficient in melted cheese; and hence we arrived at enchilada town. I bulked the rice out with some chunks of chicken seasoned with fajita seasoning and my wife Danielle made fresh guacamole and assembled the burritos for me.

It was delicious. It wasn’t as greasy as that photo makes it look either. The halogens in my kitchen are quite harsh, you see, and —- oh, who am I kidding. It was exactly that greasy. And definitely delicious. —Rich

Jan
27

Beef and chorizo stew with suet dumplings Stew is something I’ve been cooking for years, and something I can knock together with approximately zero mental effort. But it’s also a recipe which is endlessly flexible and adaptable to your whims — and whichever wilting items of vegetation lurking in the bottom of your fridge are in the most urgent need of being eaten. Which is why, this time, I decided to search for a recipe which did things as differently as possible to my usual methods. I came upon this recipe from Delia Smith which was unusual (to me at least) for a few reasons: slow-cooked for five hours (I generally cook at medium heat two or so hours). a gravy made from cider (I use stock, maybe with some wine). the meat wasn’t fried first (I always fry mine to provoke the Malliard reaction and all its tasty, tasty byproducts). beef suet dumplings (a bit of extra work, but a tradition that harks back to an earlier era of British cooking). Obviously, being me, I didn’t cook Delia’s recipe as-is. I made some changes of my own, and I ended up with this recipe. It still turned out delicious, though. I think it’s hard to go very wrong with stew. Beef and chorizo stew (serves four) 100 g (4 oz) chorizo 600 g (1.5 lb) of stewing beef — shin or a similar cut 2 medium sized or 1 large carrot (about 220 g / 7 oz in weight) Half a swede or rutabaga (same weight as carrots) 3-4 parsnips (same weight as carrots) 4-5 small onions or large shallots (same weight as carrots) 25 g (1 oz) plain flour, seasoned with plenty of salt and pepper 568 ml (1 UK pint / 20 fl oz) of premium dry cider (I used Stella) 2 sprigs fresh thyme or 1 tsp dried thyme 1/2 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce 2 tsp Dijon mustard 1 Tbsp tomato purée 1 beef stock cube Preheat the oven to 140 deg C (275 deg F). First, the mise en place. Cut the beef into two-inch chunks. Cut the swede into half-inch chunks — it’s much harder than the other vegetables, so needs to be smaller to make sure it cooks through. Cut the carrots and parsnip into two-inch chunks. Skin the onions or shallots, but leave all except one whole. Dice the last onion and dice the chorizo too. Put a little oil in the casserole pan you’ll be using for the stew and warm it a little. Add the diced chorizo and keep it on a low heat until it gives up its oil and aroma. Add the diced onion and fry slowly until softened. Turn the heat off and add the cider to deglaze and cool the pan. (Note that Delia’s recipe calls for quite a bit less cider; I prefer my stew to have a bit of sauce with it.) Put 25 g of seasoned flour in a bowl. One piece at a time, dip the beef chunks in the flour. Make sure each one is well coated then put it in the pan. Once they are all done, toss the vegetables in any remaining flour, and put all that in the pan too. Sprinkle any remaining flour in on top. Put the heat back on under the pan and start bringing it to a simmer. While that’s happening, add the rest of the flavourings: the mustard, Worcestershire sauce, tomato purée, thyme, and the stock cube. Add salt and pepper too. Stir to combine. Once it’s simmering, put a lid on the pan (with a piece of foil if it’s not a tight fit) and put in the oven for four and half hours. Go out, because it’s going to start smelling really good a long time before it’s ready to eat. After four or so hours, check on the stew. The vegetables should be tender but hopefully not falling apart, and the beef should be cooked. You can serve it up like this, but there’s an optional step you can add if you’re feeling indulgent and/or nostalgic. Caramelised onion dumplings Suet is an incredibly old-fashioned British food, consisting of the hardest, most saturated fat a cow has — taken from around the loins and kidneys. It’s used as a shortening to make pastries and doughs, as well as being an important ingredient in the traditional version of mincemeat and Christmas pudding. Obviously, it’s incredibly unhealthy, so has rather fallen out of favour as dietry science came to understand the dangers of saturated fats. As such it’s not something I’d eat very often. Americans — you can probably stop reading now. It’s almost impossible to find suet outside the UK, and there’s no substitution that is close in flavour or richness. Note that these dumplings don’t bear very much resemblance to the sort of ones you’d make for chicken and dumplings. 1/2 a small onion 100 g (4 oz) self-raising flour 50 g (2 oz) shredded beef suet — I used Atora brand 1 tsp mustard powder 1 Tbsp fresh chive Ahead of time, finely dice the onion and fry in flavourless oil (groundnut or vegetable) over a very low heat for half an hour or so until caramelised and brown. Leave this to cool. Once the stew is cooked, sift the mustard powder and flour into a work bowl. Add the suet and stir that through, followed by the onions and chives. Sprinkle over about five Tbsp of cold water and bring the mixture together with a knife or — if you have one — the dough paddle of a freestanding mixer. The mixer is a lot less work! Add more water if you need it to make a firm but soft dough. Separate the dough into eight portions and roll them by hand into spheres. Get the stew out of the oven, pop the dumplings in the top so they are half-submerged in the gravy, and put it back in the oven for 20-30 minutes. Now, this is where my advice parts ways from Delia’s. She suggests leaving the lid off the casserole at this point, and increasing the temperature. I tried this and found that too much of the sauce boiled away and the tops of the dumplings became quite dark, almost burnt, where there were tiny pieces of onion on the surface. You can see this in the photo at the top of the post. Next time I will keep the lid on the pan, which is the usual way to cook dumplings, to give a softer, part-steamed texture. Finally, serve with some good bread and a glass of full-bodied red wine.

Beef and chorizo stew with suet dumplings

Stew is something I’ve been cooking for years, and something I can knock together with approximately zero mental effort. But it’s also a recipe which is endlessly flexible and adaptable to your whims — and whichever wilting items of vegetation lurking in the bottom of your fridge are in the most urgent need of being eaten. Which is why, this time, I decided to search for a recipe which did things as differently as possible to my usual methods.

I came upon this recipe from Delia Smith which was unusual (to me at least) for a few reasons:

  1. slow-cooked for five hours (I generally cook at medium heat two or so hours).
  2. a gravy made from cider (I use stock, maybe with some wine).
  3. the meat wasn’t fried first (I always fry mine to provoke the Malliard reaction and all its tasty, tasty byproducts).
  4. beef suet dumplings (a bit of extra work, but a tradition that harks back to an earlier era of British cooking).

Obviously, being me, I didn’t cook Delia’s recipe as-is. I made some changes of my own, and I ended up with this recipe. It still turned out delicious, though. I think it’s hard to go very wrong with stew.

Beef and chorizo stew

(serves four)

100 g (4 oz) chorizo
600 g (1.5 lb) of stewing beef — shin or a similar cut
2 medium sized or 1 large carrot (about 220 g / 7 oz in weight)
Half a swede or rutabaga (same weight as carrots)
3-4 parsnips (same weight as carrots)
4-5 small onions or large shallots (same weight as carrots)
25 g (1 oz) plain flour, seasoned with plenty of salt and pepper
568 ml (1 UK pint / 20 fl oz) of premium dry cider (I used Stella)
2 sprigs fresh thyme or 1 tsp dried thyme
1/2 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp tomato purée
1 beef stock cube

Preheat the oven to 140 deg C (275 deg F).

First, the mise en place. Cut the beef into two-inch chunks. Cut the swede into half-inch chunks — it’s much harder than the other vegetables, so needs to be smaller to make sure it cooks through. Cut the carrots and parsnip into two-inch chunks. Skin the onions or shallots, but leave all except one whole. Dice the last onion and dice the chorizo too.

Put a little oil in the casserole pan you’ll be using for the stew and warm it a little. Add the diced chorizo and keep it on a low heat until it gives up its oil and aroma. Add the diced onion and fry slowly until softened. Turn the heat off and add the cider to deglaze and cool the pan. (Note that Delia’s recipe calls for quite a bit less cider; I prefer my stew to have a bit of sauce with it.)

Put 25 g of seasoned flour in a bowl. One piece at a time, dip the beef chunks in the flour. Make sure each one is well coated then put it in the pan. Once they are all done, toss the vegetables in any remaining flour, and put all that in the pan too. Sprinkle any remaining flour in on top.

Put the heat back on under the pan and start bringing it to a simmer.

While that’s happening, add the rest of the flavourings: the mustard, Worcestershire sauce, tomato purée, thyme, and the stock cube. Add salt and pepper too. Stir to combine. Once it’s simmering, put a lid on the pan (with a piece of foil if it’s not a tight fit) and put in the oven for four and half hours.

Go out, because it’s going to start smelling really good a long time before it’s ready to eat.

After four or so hours, check on the stew. The vegetables should be tender but hopefully not falling apart, and the beef should be cooked. You can serve it up like this, but there’s an optional step you can add if you’re feeling indulgent and/or nostalgic.

Caramelised onion dumplings

Suet is an incredibly old-fashioned British food, consisting of the hardest, most saturated fat a cow has — taken from around the loins and kidneys. It’s used as a shortening to make pastries and doughs, as well as being an important ingredient in the traditional version of mincemeat and Christmas pudding. Obviously, it’s incredibly unhealthy, so has rather fallen out of favour as dietry science came to understand the dangers of saturated fats. As such it’s not something I’d eat very often.

Americans — you can probably stop reading now. It’s almost impossible to find suet outside the UK, and there’s no substitution that is close in flavour or richness. Note that these dumplings don’t bear very much resemblance to the sort of ones you’d make for chicken and dumplings.

1/2 a small onion
100 g (4 oz) self-raising flour
50 g (2 oz) shredded beef suet — I used Atora brand
1 tsp mustard powder
1 Tbsp fresh chive

Ahead of time, finely dice the onion and fry in flavourless oil (groundnut or vegetable) over a very low heat for half an hour or so until caramelised and brown. Leave this to cool.

Once the stew is cooked, sift the mustard powder and flour into a work bowl. Add the suet and stir that through, followed by the onions and chives. Sprinkle over about five Tbsp of cold water and bring the mixture together with a knife or — if you have one — the dough paddle of a freestanding mixer. The mixer is a lot less work! Add more water if you need it to make a firm but soft dough.

Separate the dough into eight portions and roll them by hand into spheres. Get the stew out of the oven, pop the dumplings in the top so they are half-submerged in the gravy, and put it back in the oven for 20-30 minutes.

Now, this is where my advice parts ways from Delia’s. She suggests leaving the lid off the casserole at this point, and increasing the temperature. I tried this and found that too much of the sauce boiled away and the tops of the dumplings became quite dark, almost burnt, where there were tiny pieces of onion on the surface. You can see this in the photo at the top of the post. Next time I will keep the lid on the pan, which is the usual way to cook dumplings, to give a softer, part-steamed texture.

Finally, serve with some good bread and a glass of full-bodied red wine.

Nov
07

Blackened seared tuna with cajun rice This was our dinner tonight. Despite seeming very fancy, it took less than 20 minutes of prep time and only about 45 minutes to cook from beginning to end. I’d say this is pretty good cooking-to-impress food — although it does fill your kitchen with an alarming amount of smoke. I’ve written up my recipe for O:S! previously. This one came out a lot prettier than the one I pictured there, though. —Rich

Blackened seared tuna with cajun rice

This was our dinner tonight. Despite seeming very fancy, it took less than 20 minutes of prep time and only about 45 minutes to cook from beginning to end. I’d say this is pretty good cooking-to-impress food — although it does fill your kitchen with an alarming amount of smoke.

I’ve written up my recipe for O:S! previously. This one came out a lot prettier than the one I pictured there, though. —Rich

Sep
11

Deboning a whole chicken

Last week I chanced across this Youtube video where legendary chef Jacques Pépin demonstrates how to completely debone a whole chicken. “Hmmm,” I thought to myself, “that looks far easier than I would have thought.” So, naturally, I had to have a go at it today — with somewhat mixed results.

First, the good stuff. Without cutting myself more than a little tiny bit, I started with this…

… and 37 minutes later (after a lot of headscratching, fumbling, and rewinding and rewatching the Youtube video) I had turned it into this…

In this picture, every bone except the very ends of the legs have been removed, and some of the meat has been strategeically re-arranged. The idea is that you’re left with one neat layer of skin and one neat layer of flesh, of even thickness. Mine wasn’t so neat but hopefully you get the idea. Now, admittedly 37 minutes is a long time; but that’s my own ineptitude to blame, not anything inherently difficult about the technique. I can easily believe that once you’ve done a few of these you can do them in very quickly indeed and I’m sure my next one will be done lot faster.

(Just out of shot is the remainder of the carcass, which I later boiled up for stock with some ginger, chilli, garlic and onions; I’m going to make a noodle soup out of that this week.)

I then took a stuffing I’d made the day before, a simple mushroom duxelles made from finely diced shallots slowly fried with minced chestnut, portobello, shiitake and porcini mushrooms until it reduces into a paste.

(The shiitake and porcini mushrooms were dehyrdated, not fresh; I reconstituted them with a soak in warm water for half an hour first, then mixed the soaking liquid back in with the pan so I didn’t lose a drop of flavour.)

I spread this stuffing all over the chicken and packed it down into the leg cavities:

Then I rolled the chicken up, almost back into the shape I started with but with solid meat and stuffing now. So far, so good. I had some slightly scruffy spots where the skin wouldn’t quite cover all of the flesh because I’d cut into it too ham-fistedly, but nothing too bad.

Sadly, this is where stuff started to go wrong.

I had been unable to locate butcher’s twine in town during the week, so my butcher had supplied me with these elasticated things that they use in the shop. My plan was to use a few of these around the body of the chicken to hold it together. However, as soon as I put one in place, it was obvious this wasn’t going to work: the elastic was too tight, causing the stuffing to shift around and the bird to bulge outwards on either side of it.

Plan B, then: I stuck a few toothpicks through the seam to try and hold it together during the cooking process (I didn’t have any short skewers, which would have been preferable.) Then I considered how I was going to cook it and chickened out (pun intended) of using my usual big roasting tray with a rack; instead, I put it in a smallish earthenware bakeware tray. The idea was that the chicken was a snug fit in the tray, which means it wouldn’t have any scope to fall apart while it was cooking.

Here it is, seasoned and ready for the oven. I roasted it at 180 deg C (350 deg F) for about 1hr 45min, until my digital temperature probe recorded an internal temperature of 80 deg C (175 deg F).

That bakeware was a mistake, on two levels. Firstly, it was too snug a fit and provided nowhere for the pan drippings to go; so the bottom of the chicken was rather greasy. Secondly, it’s rather thick and is light in colour, so tends to be rather heat-absorbing. So when the chicken came out of the oven, it looked pretty good:

But when I cut into it, it was obvious that the bottom half-inch or so of meat was hopelessly undercooked, raw and pink-looking. On top of that, I was unable to get clean slice through the meat; I think my carving knife needs a good sharpening.

Nevertheless, I soldiered on. Well, more accurately, I started to sulk before my wife pointed out that this could still be rescued. I sliced the chicken as best I could and flashed the meat under a hot grill to ensure it was cooked through before serving. Here’s how it ended up looking:

I served it with a gravy made from the pan drippings and a splash of Madeira, some garlic and rosemary roast potatoes, some fantastic glazed carrots (I cannot recommend that recipe enough), and a Yorkshire pudding. Yes, it’s traditional to eat Yorkshire puddings with beef, not chicken; but frankly I don’t care.

All in all, my first attempt at deboning a chicken turned out okay, although there are certainly lessons for me to learn for next time. It tasted great — moist and succulent, with plenty of flavour both from the meat and the delicious duxelles stuffing. I’ll certainly be trying it again. If I can get the technique down, it’ll make a great meal to serve to friends I think — it’s looks impressive and all the complex stuff can be done entirely ahead of time. It’s also a very practical way to cater for a large group from a small oven because what you end up with is a solid ball of meat, as opposed to the space lost to the bones and chest cavity of a normal roast chicken.

Footnote: if you take this process a stage further and do a chicken, and a duck, and a turkey, then layer them one on top of the other before rolling them all up together, you get what us Brits call a three bird roast but some Americans call by the clanging awful portmanteau “turducken”. I always wondered how they were made.

Sep
02

Aug
31

In honour of our recent honeymoon in Santorini, tonight I cooked Greek food. On this plate: french fries seasoned with a little Cajun blackening spice. lamb Σουβλάκι / souvlaki, made from meat marinated for 24 hours in oil, wine, oregano, garlic, and a little paprika and cayenne. homemade πίτα / pita bread. homemade fava dip, which is nothing to do with fava beans but is made of boiled and puréed split peas. This is one of the signature dishes of Santorini. Here, I’ve served it with caramelised onions. homemade τζατζίκι / tzatziki. Some terminology notes: in British English, we call souvlaki a “shish kebab” and pita is “pitta” instead. Similar, what an American would call γύρος / gryo, us Brits call a “doner kebab”. From what I’ve read, this is because we took our words from Turkish Cypriot immigrants, whereas America took its words from Greek immigrants. I’ll be posting recipes for all of these things in the coming days, so stay tuned! -Rich

In honour of our recent honeymoon in Santorini, tonight I cooked Greek food. On this plate:

  • french fries seasoned with a little Cajun blackening spice.
  • lamb Σουβλάκι / souvlaki, made from meat marinated for 24 hours in oil, wine, oregano, garlic, and a little paprika and cayenne.
  • homemade πίτα / pita bread.
  • homemade fava dip, which is nothing to do with fava beans but is made of boiled and puréed split peas. This is one of the signature dishes of Santorini. Here, I’ve served it with caramelised onions.
  • homemade τζατζίκι / tzatziki.

Some terminology notes: in British English, we call souvlaki a “shish kebab” and pita is “pitta” instead. Similar, what an American would call γύρος / gryo, us Brits call a “doner kebab”. From what I’ve read, this is because we took our words from Turkish Cypriot immigrants, whereas America took its words from Greek immigrants.

I’ll be posting recipes for all of these things in the coming days, so stay tuned! -Rich

Aug
29

My homemade pizza has taken a lot of practice, but I finally feel like I’m getting quite good at it now. This one was topped with chorizo, buffalo mozzarella and mushrooms with some fresh basil (added after baking so it wouldn’t burn). I use the Cook’s Illustrated NY pizza dough recipe, with a 48-hour cold ferment. I usually halve the quantities in that recipe as it makes enough for two 12” pizzas. I had some problems initially with adding too much water and ending up with dough that was too sticky to work with; the trick seems to be to stop adding water when the flour in the mixer is just clumped together but before it starts to look like actual dough. For sauce, I wasn’t as impressed with the Cook’s Illustrated one, which uses raw tomatoes and garlic. Instead I use a modification of Gwyneth Paltrow’s simmered-for-an-hour recipe (as reprinted by Dates & Quinces), but I include the red wine vinegar and oregano from the CI version. The proportions in the Paltrow recipe is enough for three 12” pizzas and it freezes well. Plus if you’re already planning two days ahead for the pizza dough then taking the sauce out of the freezer to defrost isn’t much bother! To bake, I use my conventional oven set as high as possible (240 deg C / 480 deg F) with the dough resting on a thoroughly pre-heated pizza stone. I found my fan-assisted oven would overcook the edges of the pizza. I top my pizzas with charcuterie (usually chorizo), fresh buffalo mozzarella, and one or two pre-cooked vegetables — typically mushrooms or peppers. Bell peppers can be conveniently roasted in the oven you are warming the pizza stone in, and work well if you drizzle them with a little balsamic vinegar first. On my “try this” list is the combination of spicy n’duja with some cooling ricotta added post-baking, inspired by the rustica piccante pizza at Zizzi (which, although a high street chain restaurant, has a decent pizza selection and uses proper fresh dough and wood-fired ovens. Avoid the risotto, however.) —Rich

My homemade pizza has taken a lot of practice, but I finally feel like I’m getting quite good at it now. This one was topped with chorizo, buffalo mozzarella and mushrooms with some fresh basil (added after baking so it wouldn’t burn).

I use the Cook’s Illustrated NY pizza dough recipe, with a 48-hour cold ferment. I usually halve the quantities in that recipe as it makes enough for two 12” pizzas. I had some problems initially with adding too much water and ending up with dough that was too sticky to work with; the trick seems to be to stop adding water when the flour in the mixer is just clumped together but before it starts to look like actual dough.

For sauce, I wasn’t as impressed with the Cook’s Illustrated one, which uses raw tomatoes and garlic. Instead I use a modification of Gwyneth Paltrow’s simmered-for-an-hour recipe (as reprinted by Dates & Quinces), but I include the red wine vinegar and oregano from the CI version. The proportions in the Paltrow recipe is enough for three 12” pizzas and it freezes well. Plus if you’re already planning two days ahead for the pizza dough then taking the sauce out of the freezer to defrost isn’t much bother!

To bake, I use my conventional oven set as high as possible (240 deg C / 480 deg F) with the dough resting on a thoroughly pre-heated pizza stone. I found my fan-assisted oven would overcook the edges of the pizza.

I top my pizzas with charcuterie (usually chorizo), fresh buffalo mozzarella, and one or two pre-cooked vegetables — typically mushrooms or peppers. Bell peppers can be conveniently roasted in the oven you are warming the pizza stone in, and work well if you drizzle them with a little balsamic vinegar first.

On my “try this” list is the combination of spicy n’duja with some cooling ricotta added post-baking, inspired by the rustica piccante pizza at Zizzi (which, although a high street chain restaurant, has a decent pizza selection and uses proper fresh dough and wood-fired ovens. Avoid the risotto, however.) —Rich

Aug
09

Pan-fried scallops and roasted peppers with porcini and portobello pilaf I love scallops, but for whatever reason had never cooked them. Until tonight. They turned out delicious. Hurrah! Sorry for the slightly scruffy presentation, I was really hungry by this point so there wasn’t a lot of time to ponce about dressing the plate. The peppers were simple; halved, deseeded (but with the stalk left on for cosmetic effect), drizzled with a little balsamic vinegar and groundnut oil, seasoned, and roasted for about 50 minutes at 180 deg C / 350 deg F. The rice was similar to the one I described in this post, but I wanted a strong earthy, woody flavour to contrast with the sweet peppers and scallops. I used half again as many chopped fresh mushrooms (which were portobellos this time) and 10 g / 1/3 oz of dried porcini mushrooms soaked in hot water for thirty minutes. The soaking water went into the rice too (with the stock), and I also added thyme and sage. The scallops were cooked simply too, as this was my first time using them (and they are quite expensive) I didn’t want to get too adventurous. I washed and dried them, seasoned them with fresh pepper and a little oak-smoked sea salt, then quickly dipped them in melted butter and dropped them into a cast-iron grill pan over a highish heat. They cooked for a minute while I basted their other surface with more melted butter before flipping them over and letting them cook for just another minute. —Rich

Pan-fried scallops and roasted peppers with porcini and portobello pilaf

I love scallops, but for whatever reason had never cooked them. Until tonight. They turned out delicious. Hurrah! Sorry for the slightly scruffy presentation, I was really hungry by this point so there wasn’t a lot of time to ponce about dressing the plate.

The peppers were simple; halved, deseeded (but with the stalk left on for cosmetic effect), drizzled with a little balsamic vinegar and groundnut oil, seasoned, and roasted for about 50 minutes at 180 deg C / 350 deg F.

The rice was similar to the one I described in this post, but I wanted a strong earthy, woody flavour to contrast with the sweet peppers and scallops. I used half again as many chopped fresh mushrooms (which were portobellos this time) and 10 g / 1/3 oz of dried porcini mushrooms soaked in hot water for thirty minutes. The soaking water went into the rice too (with the stock), and I also added thyme and sage.

The scallops were cooked simply too, as this was my first time using them (and they are quite expensive) I didn’t want to get too adventurous. I washed and dried them, seasoned them with fresh pepper and a little oak-smoked sea salt, then quickly dipped them in melted butter and dropped them into a cast-iron grill pan over a highish heat. They cooked for a minute while I basted their other surface with more melted butter before flipping them over and letting them cook for just another minute.

—Rich