Yotam Ottolenghi Gluten-free bakes Thomasina Miers Clotted cream loaf cake Theo Randall Tagliarini with peas and Italian sausage Meera Sodha Fennel and dill dal Max Halley Thermos ceviche Felicity Cloake How to make the perfect tofish Rachel Roddy Fried cheese with honey and oregano Grace Dent ‘I ditch plans for dinner and order cocktails’
Right on thyme BenjaminaEbuehi’s blueberrytart
Issue No.177 Saturday 5 June 2021
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Yotam Ottolenghi
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Baking feels like alchemy: the magic that happens when eggs, sugar, butter and flour are bound together and heat is applied. So, if anything, gluten-free baking feels even more magical. It’s not, of course; in fact, it can be trickier, because gluten is often what holds things together and keeps them springy. To prevent gluten-free bakes from being crumbly or short, we need to reach deeper into our box of baking tricks. I love cooking within restrictions: it makes me discover new ingredients, or new uses for those I already know.Addingpowdered fruit pectin to scone dough, for instance, is a revelation, and helps to bind the crumb and keep in the moisture. Cookies, scones and tarts that everyone can eat: now that oes ee e a c emy.
Vegetarian Vegan Gluten free Dairy free
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White chocolate and macadamia cookies Prep 20 min Cook 15 min Makes 25 300g softened unsalted butter, cut into 2cm cubes 300g soft dark brown sugar 75g caster sugar 20g vanilla bean paste 1 whole egg plus 2 egg yolks 175g cassava flour 150g jumbo oats, blitzed to a very fine powder ¾ tsp bicarbonate of soda ¾ tsp table salt 1 tsp flaked sea salt 100g macadamia nuts, toasted and roughly chopped 200g caramelised white ‘blond’ chocolate (we use Valrhona Dulcey 32%), or regular white cooking chocolate, roughly chopped
Caramelised white chocolate is exactly that: white chocolate that’s been caramelised until it tastes of fudge, toast, brown butter and malt all rolled into one. Heaven. It is on the pricey side, but is readily available online. Don’t worry if you can’t get any, though: any white cooking chocolate will also work here. The raw cookie dough can be made up to three days ahead, rolled into balls and kept in an airtight container in the fridge, ready to be baked whenever the mood strikes. Weigh out half the butter into a small saucepan and put on a medium-high heat. Cook, whisking often, for about five minutes, until the butter turns amber and smells nutty. Meanwhile, put the remaining butter, both sugars and the vanilla bean paste into a large bowl, then pour in the hot butter, stir to combine, then set aside for five or so minutes, until the rest of the butter is completely melted. Add the egg and egg yolks, and mix for about 30 seconds, until well combined and emulsified. Add all the remaining ingredients and mix until all traces of flour disappear. Cover the surface with clingfilm or similar, and chill for an hour and a half, until firm. Heat the oven to 190C (180C fan)/ o or three large ba g trays with greaseproof paper. Usi g a spoon, scoop out a 50-55g pie , roll it into a bal and place on a lined tray. Repeat witth the remaining dough, spacing th ell apart – you should be abl fit eight cookies on each tray. e for seven minutes, then rot te the tray, and bake for three mi til the cookies lig tly golden at the edges and the ce tres are puffy and pale. Remove an ve to cool on the tray for eig t to 10 minutes before eating, ass g you can wait that long. Feast
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Coconut and lime caramel tart with lime sugar Prep 15 min Infuse 30 min+ Cook 50 min Chill 30 min Serves 8 For the base 1 egg white, lightly beaten 150g desiccated coconut, lightly toasted 50g caster sugar 1 tbsp coconut oil, melted 2 tbsp maple syrup 1 tsp vanilla paste Flaked salt For the custard 1 x 400ml tin coconut milk (at least 80% coconut extract) 1 x 400ml tin coconut cream 1 tsp vanilla paste 100g sugar 7 makrut lime leaves 50g coconut oil 80g custard powder 2 whole eggs plus 2 egg yolks For the caramel and the lime sugar 160g sugar 160ml coconut cream 1 tsp vanilla paste 2 limes, zested and juiced 2½ tsp caster sugar
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Heat the oven to 170C (160C fan)/ gas 4. Line a 23cm x 23cm square cake tin with a removable base with greaseproof paper. In a medium bowl, combine all the ingredients for the base with an eighth of a teaspoon of flaked salt. Press this mix evenly into the base of the tin, bake for 23 minutes, until golden all over, then remove and leave to cool. Meanwhile, put all the custard ingredients except the eggs and custard powder in a medium pan, bring to a boil, then take off the heat and leave to infuse for at least 30 minutes. In a small bowl, whisk the custard powder, eggs and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt. Bring the milk mixture to a simmer, then lift out and discard the lime leaves. Pour a quarter of the milk into the custard mix, whisking to avoid lumps. Return the remaining milk to a medium-low heat, then sieve the custard mixture into the milk pan (discard any solids in the sieve). Cook for 10 minutes, whisking to prevent lumps forming, until the mixture thickens and starts to fall off the whisk in thick ribbons. Pour the custard on to the cool base, then refrigerate for 30 minutes. For the caramel, put the 160g sugar and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt in a large pan, set it on a medium heat and cook for eight minutes: resist the urge to stir it, and instead swirl the pan around until the sugar melts. Continue swirling until the sugar turns a dark amber, then mix in the coconut cream and vanilla: take care, because it may spit. Add a teaspoon and a half of lime juice, pour into a small jug or bowl and set aside. In a small bowl, rub together the caster sugar, lime zest and half a teaspoon of flaked salt. Unmould the chilled and set tart, and transfer to a platter. Drizzle over some of the caramel and the lime sugar, then cut and serve with the remaining lime juice spooned on top.
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The Guardian Saturday 5 June 2021
Pull-apart scones with za’atar and feta Prep 20 min Rest 30 min Cook 1 hr Makes 9 80g whipping cream, plus extra for brushing 115g full-fat Greek yoghurt 1 egg 250g gluten-free plain flour, plus extra for stamping out – we use Doves Farm 2½ tsp gluten-free baking powder ¼ tsp bicarbonate of soda ½ tsp salt ¼ tsp powdered pectin 1 tbsp za’atar, plus extra for sprinkling 1 tbsp caster sugar 100g cold unsalted butter, cut into 2cm cubes 3 tbsp finely chopped chives ½ tsp finely grated lemon zest 125g feta (or a vegetarian alternative), roughly crumbled 60g cheddar, finely grated 1½ tsp sesame seeds, to finish
Eat these just as they are, or split them while they’re still warm, slather with butter and serve with soup or for breakfast or brunch. They’re best on the day, but any left over are brilliant split and fried in butter to go with scrambled eggs. Line the base and sides of an 18cm square x 4cm deep baking tin. In a small bowl, whisk the cream, yoghurt and egg, then chill. Put all the dry ingredients in a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter, chives and lemon zest, and pulse seven or eight times, until the butter is broken down to the size of small peas. Pour in the cream mix, pulse again until the “crumbs” are moist but not quite coming together, then tip on to a worktop and use your hands gently to flatten it into a rough, 15cm-long rectangle without compressing it too much. Sprinkle the feta and most of the cheddar evenly over the top and gently fold over the sides to bring the dough together into a round; don’t work it too much, because you want some of the feta pieces to stay intact. Now switch to a rolling pin. Gently roll out the dough into a roughly 15cm circle about 3cm thick, rotating the
dough as you go. If it starts cracking around the edges, use the palm of one hand gently to squeeze it back together again and smooth out. Have ready a bowl of flour, to dip the cutter into between each stamp, to ensure a clean cut. Using a 6cm plain round cutter, stamp out four scones, then collect the scraps, roll out and repeat. You should end up with nine scones in all, with about 80g pastry left over – bake this separately as a cook’s treat. Arrange the scones in three rows of three in the lined tin and refrigerate for 30 minutes, to rest and firm up. Ten minutes before you are ready to bake, heat the oven to 210C (200C fan)/gas 7. Brush the tops of the scones with the extra whipping cream, sprinkle over the reserved cheddar, and top that with the extra za’atar and the sesame seeds. Bake for 15 minutes, rotate the tin, turn down the oven to 190C (180C fan)/ gas 6 and bake for another 10 minutes, until the scones are nicely browned and the middles spring back when lightly touched. Remove, leave to cool in the tin for five minutes, then carefully transfer to a cooling rack. Leave to cool for 10 minutes, then serve.
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Thomasina Miers The simple fix When I was little, clotted cream was a rare treat. I remember once, when my uncle came back from Devon with two precious pots of the stuff for us, I immediately set to baking a batch of scones, which we ate warm from the oven with jam, lashings of that amazing cream and butter (to this day, I always have my scones with cream and butter). So it was with delight, many years later on a blistering hot day in Tlacotalpan, Mexico, that I came across a woman selling a basket of cakes made from clotted cream. I can still taste them as I write this.
Clotted cream loaf cake with strawberries Prep 30 min Cook 1 hr Serves 10-12 200g butter, softened, plus extra to grease 200g caster sugar, plus extra to macerate the strawberries 1 tsp vanilla essence 4 eggs 150ml clotted cream, plus extra to serve 1 lemon, zested and juiced 150g plain spelt flour 100g ground almonds ½ tsp salt 1½ tsp baking powder 300g strawberries For the drizzle 100ml elderflower cordial 2 tsp caster sugar
Elderflower, vanilla, strawberries and lemon in a squidgy, almond, creamy loaf cake.
DLONRA EITTAH :TNATSISSA DOOF .EREV LEHCAR :GNILYTS PORP .ILLEPILIF A N I R A M : G N I L Y T S D O O F .N A I D R A U G E H T ROF A R U I G U S I K U Y : H P A R G O T O H P
Heat the oven to 170C (150C fan)/ gas 3. Grease a 1½lb loaf tin. Put the butter, sugar and vanilla in a bowl and, using an electric hand whisk, beat until pale, light and creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, incorporating each one before adding the next. Whisk in the cream and lemon zest, then fold in the flour, ground almonds, salt and baking powder. Transfer to the greased tin, smooth out the top and bake for one hour, until a skewer comes out clean when inserted into the centre. Meanwhile, heat the cordial and sugar in a small pan and, once the sugar has melted, take off the heat and stir in the juice of half the lemon. (If the cordial is homemade, you may need a little more sugar.) Hull the strawberries and put them in a bowl. Add the remaining lemon juice and a sprinkling of caster sugar, toss and leave to macerate while the cake is baking. Once the cake is out of the oven, pierce the top all over with a skewer, then drizzle with the syrup. Leave to cool in the tin for 10 minutes, then run a butter knife around the edge to loosen, turn out on to a rack and leave to cool. Slice and serve with the strawberries and more clotted cream on the side. And for the rest of the week … Mash leftover strawberries in the elderflower drizzle with a little lemon zest, then stir them through vanilla ice-cream, or make a quick vanilla, elderflower and strawberry chia jam for a batch of fresh scones.
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Theo Randall Summer pasta
My first recollection of an Italian deli was when my mother brought home a piece of fresh parmesan and grated it over a bowl of pasta for me. The flavour was so different from anything I’d had before. It made me realise that authentic, fresh ingredients were crucial in the final flavour of a dish, and this ethos is what Italian cooking is built on: simple food made using exceptional ingredients.
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Orecchiette with greens and anchovies Prep 10 min Cook 15 min Serves 4 as a starter 350g cime di rapa, or swiss chard 350g orecchiette 4 tbsp olive oil, plus extra to serve 1 garlic clove, peeled and finely sliced 1 small dried chilli, finely chopped 4 salted anchovies in oil, drained Parmesan or ricotta salata, grated, to serve
This simple dish from Puglia should be top of your must-try list if you ever visit the region. You can use swiss chard instead of the cime di rapa, but the latter’s turnip-like flavour is well worth seeking out. If you’re using cime di rapa, trim it so you’re left with the leaves and the middle stem, which looks like a broccoli floret, and discard the tough leaf stems. If you’re using swiss chard, wash it, then strip off the green leaves and cut them into 2cm slices; cut the stems into 1cm matchsticks across the stem. Bring a large pan of salted water to a boil and add the orecchiette. If you’re using cime di rapa, add that now and boil for 10–12 minutes, until the pasta is al dente. If you’re using chard, add the stalks to the boiling water with the pasta, cook for about five minutes, then add the green leaves. Cook for another seven minutes, until the pasta is al dente (the greens will add a flavour to the pasta as they cook together). Meanwhile, heat the oil in a large, nonstick frying pan on a medium heat. Once hot, add the garlic, chilli and anchovies, and cook very gently for three minutes, until the anchovies melt and the garlic softens but does not colour, then turn off the heat and set to one side. When the pasta is cooked, use a slotted spoon or spider to transfer the pasta and the greens to the anchovy pan, and set it over a high heat. Add a ladleful of the pasta cooking water and toss and mix everything together for a further two to three minutes, until the veg has broken up and the pasta is coated in sauce. Check the seasoning, then serve in warmed bowls topped with a drizzle of olive oil and some grated parmesan or, even better, ricotta salata. The Guardian Saturday 5 June 2021
Tagliarini with peas and Italian sausage Prep Cook Serves
10 min 30 min 4
300g Italian sausages, skinned and chopped 1 tbsp olive oil 1 shallot or small onion, peeled and finely chopped 250g frozen peas Sea salt and black pepper 500g tagliarini 75g unsalted butter Parmesan, finely grated, to serve
Groto de Corgnan, a restaurant in Valpolicella, near Verona, must take full credit for this dish. As I walked in, I saw the fresh tagliarini displayed by the entrance. We had a set menu and I was so excited when those tagliarini arrived as our primo – golden strands of the thinnest fresh pasta I had ever seen with fresh peas and local tastasal salami. I could have happily eaten three portions.
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Heat a large, nonstick frying pan on a high heat. Add the pieces of sausagemeat and fry for about 10 minutes, until the fat has rendered out and the meat has browned, then transfer the meat to a plate and set to one side. Stir the olive oil into the fat left in the pan, add the shallot, turn down the heat to medium and cook, stirring, for three minutes, until soft. Add the peas and a cup (250ml) of water, then cover the pan and leave to cook for five minutes, until the peas are tender. Remove the lid, return the cooked sausagemeat to the pan, stir and cook for another five minutes. Check the seasoning and adjust to taste, then turn off the heat, but leave the pan on the stove, so it keeps warm. Bring a large pan of salted water to a boil, add the pasta and cook for about three minutes, or until tender but still with a good bite. Using tongs, transfer the pasta to the sausagemeat pan and add a ladleful of the pasta cooking water. Stir in the butter, put the pan on a medium heat and cook, tossing, until the liquid in the pan has gone syrupy and emulsified. Serve in warmed bowls, sprinkled with parmesan and black pepper. Recipes extracted from The Italian Deli Cookbook, by Theo Randall (Quadrille, £26). To order a copy for £22.62, go to guardianbookshop.com Feast
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Meera Sodha The new vegan There’s a presumption that, when the weather gets warmer, all a person wants is salad. Well, not this person. While I love salads, for dinner I need to feel the warmth of a meal in my belly. There is a wealth of dals out there, as many as there are Indian cooks, but the sort I want in summer is a light, fresh one such as today’s recipe, which I first ate from the London-based tiffin delivery service Dabba Drop. It is sweet with fennel, fresh from the dill and wonderfully zingy with lime.
Fennel and dill dal Prep 10 min Cook 35 min Serves 4 300g yellow split mung lentils 1 tsp ground turmeric 1 ¼ tsp fine sea salt 4 tbsp rapeseed oil – I like Mr Organic 1 tsp cumin seeds 1½ tsp black mustard seeds 1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped 1 large fennel bulb (about 500g), trimmed and finely chopped 1 handful dill (about 10g), chopped, plus extra to finish 2 green finger chillies, chopped 4 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed 200ml coconut milk 1½ tbsp lime juice (ie, from 1 lime) Steamed basmati or jasmine rice, to serve
Anshu from Dabba Drop was kind enough to send me her recipe, which I have adapted here. You’ll need split mung lentils, which can be found in Asian supermarkets and online.
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Wash the mung lentils until the water runs clear, put in a large pan with the turmeric and cover with 1.2 litres of water. Bring to a boil, turn down the heat and simmer for 20-25 minutes, until cooked – that is, when the lentils start to break down and merge together when stirred. Stir in the salt and set aside. While the lentils are cooking, heat the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat and, once it’s properly hot (test by holding a hand 20cm over the pan), add the cumin and mustard seeds. Thirty seconds later, when they pop, add the onion, fennel and dill, and cook, stirring every now and then, until soft and caramelised, which should take about 20 minutes. Add the chillies and garlic, stir-fry for three minutes more, then tip into the lentil pot along with the coconut milk; if the mixture looks as if it could do with being a bit looser, add a little water. Bring the mix up to a bubble, then take off the heat and stir through the lime juice. Taste and adjust the salt, lime and/or chilli as you wish. Decant into a serving bowl, garnish with a couple of sprigs of dill and serve with steamed basmati or jasmine rice.
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Max Halley The ultimate picnic food Weather’s good and you need to get out? Meeting friends in the park (check the rules first), but aren’t sure what to make for lunch and you want to look as cool as Christmas? Fret not – I got you!
An onion tart
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Prep 15 min Cook 1 hr 40 min Serves 4 60g butter 1kg brown onions, peeled and thinly sliced Salt and pepper 1 x 500g packet shortcrust pastry (all butter, if possible) 2 large eggs, beaten This is my Mum’s Famous Onion Tart Recipe, which I will admit, before the great theft of 1990 (and the removal of some cheese), was better known as Elizabeth David’s Famous Onion Tart Recipe. Cold, or just-warm, it is one of the finest things in the world, and enjoys a fruitful relationship with either garlic mayonnaise or Tabasco, but I’ll leave the condiment choices to you. You’ll need a deep 20cm quiche tin. Melt the butter in a heavy-based saucepan for which you have a lid. Add the onions, season with salt, then get everything nice and hot, but not colouring much, if at all. Turn the heat to low (but not the lowest), cover and cook for about 40 minutes, stirring regularly to make sure they’re not catching, until the onions collapse into a lovely goo, then set aside to cool. Meanwhile, heat the
oven to 200C (180C fan)/ gas 6. Flour a worktop, then roll out the pastry to the thickness of a £1 coin and use it to line a deep 20cm quiche tin, leaving it to hang over the edges to allow for some contraction during cooking (you may not need all the pastry, so save any excess for another use). Prick all over with a fork, place a circle of greaseproof over the base, fill with baking beans or rice, and blind bake for 15 minutes, until cooked firm but not too coloured. Once the onions have cooled to just warm, stir in the eggs, add pepper to taste (be bold), then scrape the lot into the pastry case and bake at 200C (180C fan)/gas 6 for 30-40 minutes, until the top is a beautiful golden colour. Trim off the excess pastry, if you wish, then leave the tart to cool almost completely before slicing and serving. Wahey for onions.
Thermos ceviche Prep 15-20 min Marinate 2 hr Serves 4 4 hake fillets (about 500g in all), skinned and cut into 1cm-thick slices The juice of 3 limes 1 red chilli, chopped into tiny pieces 1 bunch coriander, stalks very finely sliced, leaves put in a plastic container 1 passion fruit, flesh and seeds squeezed out into a sieve set over a bowl, then stirred until all the juice has been collected 1 ripe as all hell tomato, cored and chopped into small chunks 1 four-finger pinch salt
2 baby gem lettuces, separated into leaves and put in the same box as the coriander leaves 1 flask, an empty plastic food box and a spoon My friend Ben Benton made me this when we were planning our new book. You need to make it at least two hours before you want to eat. Throw everything apart from the coriander leaves and lettuce into a flask and give it a gentle shake. In the park, tip the contents of the flask into the empty box, spoon some of the mix into a lettuce cup, scatter some coriander leaves on top, shovel it in and thank God you’re alive. Any leftover ceviche liquid (leche de tigre) should be drunk afterwards, not least because it’s a famously good hangover cure.
A pork tonnato sandwich Prep Cook Makes
15 min 1 hr 40 min 1 huge sarnie, to serve 2-3 1 big sploosh whitewine vinegar 1 huge pinch of salt 1 tsp peppercorns ½ onion, thinly sliced 1 garlic clove, peeled and thinly sliced 2 bay leaves 1 tbsp fresh marjoram or oregano leaves, stalks reserved 1 large pork tenderloin, trimmed of sinew and cut in half (not lengthways) 250g drained tinned tuna, chopped until completely broken down 6-8 tbsp mayonnaise (or enough to make a runny-ish sauce)
The juice of 1 lemon 1 ciabatta, cut in half lengthways 3 seven-minute boiled eggs, peeled and sliced into rounds 1 tbsp little capers (soaked, if salted) 12 anchovy fillets in oil, drained 1-2 handfuls readysalted crisps Put the vinegar, salt, peppercorns, onion, garlic, bay and herb stalks into a big saucepan and lay the two pieces of pork on top. Add water to cover, and bring to a boil. The second it boils, take off the heat, skim off any scum that rises to the top, cover and don’t touch it for 90 minutes. Meanwhile, mix the tuna, mayo and lemon juice in a small bowl, until well combined. Once the 90 minutes is up, lift out the pork and cut into slices as thick as two £1 coins. Now, build the sandwich. Spread all the tuna mayo generously over the two cut sides of the ciabatta (save any leftovers in the fridge for more sandwiches tomorrow). Lay the slices of pork evenly over the bottom half and top with the sliced egg. Sprinkle over the capers, followed by the herb leaves, and top with the anchovies. Crush enough crisps to cover the base of the sandwich and sprinkle over the top. Pop on the lid, give it a bit of a squish, wrap in foil, head for the park, then decide if you’re willing to share. Max Halley is chef/owner of Max’s Sandwich Shop, London N4. His latest book, Max’s Picnic Book, is published by Hardie Grant at £16.99. To order a copy for £14.78, go to guardianbookshop.com
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Fiona Beckett Hoppydays: the best of thealcohol-free beers It’s a bit of an irony that to enjoy the best of what the world of alcohol-free drinks has to offer, you need to be a bit of a hop head in the first place – or, in other words, a beer-lover. Or, perhaps more accurately, not have a mental block about drinking the stuff. As with full-strength craft beers, there’s now enough booze-free choice out there to engage almost anyone who loves flavour, whether or not they identify as a beer drinker. But why is alcohol-free beer so successful, especially when noalcohol wine isn’t? The main reason is that the two main flavouring ingredients of beer, malt and hops, are still present in alcohol-free versions, while brewers can, and do, often add other ingredients to flavour their beers (cocoa nibs to porter, for
Four amazing alcohol-free ales
Vandestreek Playground Non-Alcoholic IPA £14.25 for 6 x 330ml drydrinker. com, 0.5%. Exuberant, IPA-style Dutch beer Coast 7 Grain 7 Hop DDH IPA £16.99 for 6 x 330ml cans, 0%. Complex and flavourful new release. The Rolls-Royce of AF beer Bristol Beer Factory Clear Head IPA £22 for 12 x 33cl bristolbeerfactory. co.uk, 0.5%. A classic, fresh, hoppy IPA
The good mixer Tropic like it’s hot Serves 1 30ml mezcal – I use Zignum Espadin Reposado 12½ml Campari 12½ml triple sec 50ml pineapple juice (ideally fresh) 15ml fresh lime juice 12½ml agave syrup 1 orange twist, to garnish
We opened in February 2020, and were going great guns until, all of 37 days later, we had to shut when the UK went into lockdown. We’ve only just reopened, so here’s one to sip on while looking forward to a better summer in 202. Put all the liquid ingredients in a shaker, add ice and shake well. Remove and discard the ice, shake again, then fine strain into a coupe or martini glass. Garnish with the orange twist and serve (I don’t serve this over ice, but if you prefer a more diluted drink, add a couple of ice cubes to the glass). Kat Stanley-Whyte, Uno Mas, Edinburgh Feast
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T O S I R A P C Ï O L : G N I L Y T S . N A I D R AU G E H T R O F S W E H T T A M N A D : H P A R G O T O H P
Adnams Sole Star LowAlcohol Pale Amber Ale £9.99 for 8 x 500ml, 0.5%. A bargain, with a good, amber ale character
example). Plus, it’s lower in alcohol to start with than wine, so there isn’t so much ground to make up. Over the past couple of years, the market has exploded. The drydrinker.com website now sells 220 alcohol-free beers, compared with 50 when it started out in 2015, most of which, according to founder Stuart Elkington, will appeal to “blenders” (that is, those who take days off drinking) as much as to non-drinkers. That might surprise you, considering such products cost much the same as full-strength versions, but that’s because it’s expensive to put flavour into a non-alcoholic product. Many, such as Coast’s seven-grain, seven-hop DDH in today’s picks, use multiple malts and hops, and are double dry-hopped (DDH), which is an expensive process. (To get the full benefit, you need to drink these beers as soon after they’re brewed as possible.) One slightly confusing aspect of the No-Lo category is what actually counts as alcohol-free. The rules that required AF beer to be a maximum of 0.05% abv expired in 2018, so most producers now go with the European requirement of 0.5%. Others, perhaps more accurately, call that lowalcohol. If you’re just concerned to cut down, rather than cut out, I really like Gadds’ No Ultra-Light Anytime Pale Ale (1.2%) from the Ramsgate Brewery (£16.80 for 12 x 33cl cans), which has a delicate sweetness and a structure that you don’t quite get in a beer under 1%. The great thing about AF beer, however, is its sheer variety. You can buy almost any style you like now – sour beer, fruit beer, porter – in an alcohol-free version. In fact, there are so many good ones these days, if you see one that appeals to you, you may as well give it a try. If you’re not already a beer drinker, you may just find you’ve become a hop head.
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Benjamina Ebuehi The sweet spot
Fresh thyme might just be my most used herb in the kitchen, thanks in part to the little pot growing at lightning speed on my windowsill. More often than not, I use it in sweet recipes – for flavouring custards, infusing syrups for cakes or in this blueberry frangipane tart. Fresh herbs bring such a unique fragrance to cakes that is often unexpected but w This tart would also be wonderful wi rosemary or even tarragon.
Blueberry and thyme frangipane tart
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Prep 50 min Chill 2 hr Cook 45 min Makes 1 x 23cm tart, to serve 8-10 For the pastry 175g unsalted butter, cold and diced 275g plain flour 80g icing sugar 1 lemon zest ¼ tsp salt 1 large egg, beaten For the frangipane 180g caster sugar 1½ tbsp finely chopped thyme leaves, plus extra to decorate 180g unsalted butter, softened 3 large eggs 160g ground almonds 30g plain flour 250g blueberries 2t aked almonds
To make the pastry, put the butter, flour, icing sugar, lemon zest and salt in a food processor and pulse until the mix resembles fine breadcrumbs. Alternatively, put everything in a large bowl and rub the butter into the flour with your fingertips. Add the egg and pulse or stir until the mixture starts to clump together. Turn the pastry out on to a lightly floured surface, give it a quick, gentle knead to bring it together, then pat into a disc, wrap and chill in the fridge for two hours, or until firm. Once chilled, roll out the pastry into a large circle about 5cm wider than a 23cm tart tin. Line the tin with the pastry, leaving a few centimetres overhang, then put it back in the fridge to chill again while you make the filling. Heat the oven to 180C 160C fan/ gas 4. Put the sugar and thyme in a large bowl and use your fingers to rub ether until fragrant. Add the butter, t t with an electric whisk three to four minutes, until reamy. Beat in the eggs t a time, then stir in the al until combined. emove the pastry from the fr e and use a sharp knife to trim the overhang. Spoon or pipe the filling into the pastry case and scatter half the blueberries on top. Cover with the remaining frangipane, and top that with the rest of the blueberries. Sprinkle the flaked almonds on top and bake for 45-50 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. Remove and leave to cool completely before serving.
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FelicityCloake The perfect ... Tofish I’m no tofu expert, but I do know two things about it: first, its creamy blandness is a great foil for other flavours (see mapo tofu); and second, it is transformed, Cinderella-style, by frying, with its soft wobbliness irresistible against the crunch of batter. Both these qualities make it an ideal substitute for white fish in the classic chippie supper.
The tofu In this instance, it doesn’t matter too much whether you use firm or extra-firm tofu, because it will be battered – and freezing it to give it a more open texture is, in my opinion, actively undesirable. Fish should not be spongy, nor does it need to be boiled to firm it up. What is a good idea is to cut flakes into the tofu to mimic the consistency of the fish, as suggested by Sam Turnbull of the It Doesn’t Taste Like Chicken blog, who herself adapted it from Jules “The Easy Vegan”. I’m going to combine their methods by not cutting through the tofu entirely, and by sprinkling Jules’ suggested seasoning into the cuts, rather than faffing about with toothpicks.
The seasoning Tofu is not, in general, good at absorbing marinades, but that’s no problem here, because white fish doesn’t have an assertive flavour, either, so there’s no need to dunk it in miso or white wine or the other things recommended by Turnbull or Bosh, delicious as they are. That said, fish does taste, well, fishy, and the best way to recreate that with plant-based ingredients is to make use of a plant that grows in the same environment, namely seaweed. It’s common to use a sheet of nori to act as the “skin”, but Jules’ notion of using seaweed flakes to season between the “flakes” ensures you get some in every bite. Cauldron makes a tartare paste with chopped gherkins, capers and flour to smear on top of
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Blitz half the nori to a fine powder, then sprinkle this and a good pinch of salt into the slashes, to season the tofu
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Lay a chopstick on both sides of each tofu slice, to stop you cutting through, then cut slashes to mimic the texture of fish
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Turn the tofu over, then press the remaining nori sheets on to the tofu slices, to mimic fish skin The Guardian Saturday 5 June 2021
the tofu, which looks great, but I’d prefer to stick more closely to the spirit of the original.
this into the crevices in the tofu. To make the batter, whisk the flour, baking powder and salt, then add the beer until you have a mixture that’s thick but still liquid. Cut the remaining nori into pieces roughly the same size as the slabs of tofu, then turn the tofu over, so the slashes are on the bottom, and carefully stick the seaweed on to the unslashed side, to mimic fish skin. Bring a deep-fat fryer, or a deep pan no more than a third full of neutral oil, to 180C. Prepare a drying rack over some paper towels. Dip the tofu into the batter, gently shake off any excess, then carefully lower it into the hot oil and cook, turning once, until golden brown a . ve with a slotted spoon, drain on the rack, season and serve piping hot.
D O OF OTOHP
Perfect tofish Cut the block of tofu into two 2cmthick slabs, then pat them dry with kitchen paper. Lay a chopstick (or two strands of uncooked dried spaghetti) down each long side of each tofu slab, then cut down through the tofu at a slight angle, taking care not to cut all the way through – the chopsticks should help prevent you doing so. The cooking Blitz half the nori sheet to a Loubna of the Glowing Blush blog fine powder in a mini chopper bakes her tofish, while Turnbull or similar (alternatively, use shallow fries his, but I’m sorry to say seaweed flakes or seasoning) and that there’
Prep 15 min Cook 4 min Serves 2 280g firm or extra-firm tofu 1 sheet nori Salt 100g plain flour ½ tsp baking powder ½ tsp fine salt 140ml cold beer, or sparkling water Neutral oil, for deep frying
ARUAF ALO L : . N A I D R A U G E H T R O F S W E H T T A M NA D :
The batter This is, of course, the same deal as with battered fish. Spices are surplus to requirements; volume is the thing to concentrate on here. Baking powder is helpful, as is using a carbonated liquid such as cold beer or fizzy water. The Vegan Recipe Club’s recipe offers the most billowy batter, which has no need of Bosh’s second coat, because it’s crunchy enough already.
bath in hot oil – if deep-frying makes you nervous, make something else. Serve with chips, mushy peas and vegan tartare sauce. Oh, and lots of salt and vinegar. That’s mandatory.
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Mix the flour, baking powder and salt, then add cold beer. Dip the tofu in the batter, then deep-fry
Once the tofish is golden brown, lift it out with a slotted spoon, then drain and season generously
ve with all aditional acc chip tar of t and vinegar
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Kitchen aide Is itOK to buypastry, or must I make it myself?
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friendly, because you don’t need a tin, and you can do them free-form.” Ebuehi fills hers with seasonal fruit or cheese and roast veg. Puff pastry, meanwhile, is especially labour-intensive, which is why Slater has never understood why people “come over all sniffy” about the shop-bought stuff. “It is a particularly good commercial product – light, crisp and a joy for people like me who imagine they have better things to do than make their own,” he writes. If that sounds like you, and beef Wellington or sausage rolls are on the cards, Majozi suggests buying a block instead of the ready-rolled type, so you can “control the thickness of the dough”. Also, always roll in one direction at a time – “this stops it from being overstretched and shrinking” – and keep things moving. “If you don’t, it will end up sticking.” If Joe is up for a project, however, he should by all means make his own. “I usually do a rough puff instead of a full puff,” Ebuehi admits. “It’s quicker, a bit less technical and you get to understand how the folding works.” Pop a batch in the freezer (where it will keep for a month), and you’ll have emergency cheese straws on tap. Anna Berrill Got a culinary dilemma? Email feast@theguardian.com
Waste not ... Lettuce Tom Hunt
UA4 14OY ,kroY ,notgnivlE ,kraP ssenisuB dlefiriA ,hsuR htrowknirB ,dtL gniliaM kroY ta detnirP
SEGAMI YTTEG :SHPARGOTOHP
When should I make my own pastry, and when is shop-bought OK? Joe, Durham This sounds like a job for Feast’s Benjamina Ebuehi, who created today’s blueberry frangipane tart cover star. “I like to encourage making your own,” she says. “You can taste the difference, and it’s not as tricky or as time-consuming as people think, especially if you have a food processor.” Obviously, that can be said for some pastry more than others, and it depends on how much time Joe has on his hands. First things first, we can all agree that no one is making DIY filo, so fill your boots with shop-bought and concentrate on what you’re going to do with your filo instead – samosas or spanakopita for Ebuehi, baklava for fellow Feast columnist Ravneet Gill. Shortcrust, however, should always be homemade, Nigel Slater says. As he writes in Appetite, it’s “as easy as toast”, plus the readymade stuff never contains enough butter. Essentially, you’re rubbing butter into flour, salt and sugar, and adding egg and whole milk or water. Then, says Gill, it’s just about “learning how to handle it”. The trick is to keep things cool. “Always rest pastry in the fridge for at least 30 minutes before rolling,” says Nokx Majozi, head pie maker at Holborn Dining Room in London. “This helps the gluten relax and makes it easier to roll.” You also don’t want the fat to melt (that way crumbly pastry lies), so if at any point you find yourself in a soft and sticky situation, whack it back in the fridge to chill out again. If you’re really strugglin suggests getting out the grater. “If rolling pastry puts you off, grate it and press it into the tin with your fingertips.” Alternatively, go for a galette, which is rustic by nature. Ebuehi says: “They’re beginner-
Last year, on a Chef’s Manifesto trip to Kew Gardens, we met the horticulturist Helena Dove, who told us about how the changing climate and shifting weather patterns are creating new challenges for farmers – for example, as the summers get hotter and heatwaves more common, plants will bolt and flower much more easily. This is a particular issue with leafy greens such as lettuce, spinach and cabbage, which need to be harvested before they shoot up. Fortunately, both wilted and bolted lettuce are great to cook with, and will work alongside, or replace, leafy greens in any dish that calls for them. Bolted lettuce can be a little bitter, but, like chicory, it’s wonderful barbecued, pan roasted or in a gratin. Pea and lettuce gratin In a saucepan, bring 150ml hot stock or water and 150ml double cream (or a non-dairy alternative) to a boil, then simmer until reduced by half. Put 40g butter (or 40ml extra-virgin olive oil) in a large frying pan set over a high heat, add three roughly chopped spring onions, 100g peas (fresh or frozen) and 150g lettuce cut into wedges. Saute, stirring occasionally, for three minutes, until the lettuce begins to wilt but still has some bite, then add a roughly chopped garlic clove and fry for a minute more. Add the cream mixture, season to taste, then top with lots of grated parmesan (or a non-dairy alternative), pop under a very hot grill for three minutes, until browned and bubbling, and serve hot. The Guardian Saturday 5 June 2021
Cookery writer of the year
RachelRoddy Tales from an Italian kitchen
NAIDRAUG EHT ROF YDDOR LEHCAR :HPARGOTOHP
Fried cheese with honey, oregano and vinegar Caciocavallo is a formaio a pasta filata, or stretched-curd cheese, and part of the family that includes mozzarella, scamorza, provolone and halloumi. To make it, cow’s milk curds are kneaded and stretched by hand in hot water until they look like a fabulously long scarf of white putty. The process at this point, by the way, is almost exactly that of mozzarella, for which the lengths are squeezed into balloon-like balls and mozzate (cut). However, for caciocavallo, the stretched lengths are rolled into balls, then soaked in brine before being bound in pairs with rope, neck to neck, and hung to mature a cavallo – straddled over a beam or pole. Some say this position provides the name, but there are several other legends. Hanging also exaggerates the shape of the cheese, which is like a pear or teardrop. Or a Japanese okiagari-koboshi, a roly-poly toy that, regardless of how hard you try, always returns to an upright position when it’s knocked over – in Japan, it is a symbol of perseverance and resilience, which seem particularly useful qualities these days. When it is young (one to three months), caciocavallo is pale, tender and bounces like a child’s cheek if you squeeze it, and has a mild and milky flavour. As it ages, it firms up and the flavour gets deeper, nuttier and almost spicy. All ages can be eaten just so, grated or cubed for cooking, and are suitable for this week’s recipe, cacio all’argentiera (cheese silversmith-style), as are the rest of the family (mozzarella, scamorza, provolone, halloumi …). There is a legend – of course – that this dish was invented in via dell’Argenteria in Palermo by the
wife of a silversmith who couldn’t afford rabbit, and so created a dish with an equally enviable smell. The smell is pretty extraordinary, as oregano – which is at its very best here, warm and wild – meets the sweetness of honey, the acidity of vinegar and just a bit of chilli, then all of them settle into the folds of melted cheese. In a small bowl, whisk a tablespoon of runny honey, one to two tablespoons of red-wine vinegar and a big pinch of oregano, red chilli and salt. In a pan over a
Fried caciocavallo: melted, stringy cheese doused in a honey, vinegar and oregano dressing
medium heat, warm a little olive oil, then add four 5-6mm-thick slices of caciocavallo, scamorza, provola or eight of halloumi. Cook for three minutes, until a light crust has formed, then, using a spatula, turn over (don’t worry if it sticks a bit) and cook for another three minutes on the other side so the slices are bubbling gently and, while not completely collapsed, considerably melted. Pour the honey mixture over the cheese, leave to bubble for 10 seconds, then turn off the heat, cover the pan and leave for a minute before serving. To cook this on a barbecue, make a double layer of foil and crunch up the edges to create a lip. Rub the inside of the foil parcel with olive oil and put towards the outer edge of the barbecue for a minute. Lay the cheese on top and cook until bubbling, then pour over the honey mixture and leave to bubble for a couple of minutes more. Some cheese will stick to the foil, so just make sure you are the one to pick the golden pieces from the tin. Some recipes for cacio all’argentiera suggest the slices of cheese should remain intact and have a deep golden crust, but I am not sure how this is compatible with the cheese melting properly, which is vital if the other ingredients are going to mingle and sink in. And surely a melted mess is part of the pleasure – scooping the chaos of cheese with a corner of bread, or a chip. For me, this dish is Sicily in the summer: cooking dinner on our carpark-flat roof in the middle of Gela, drinking cheap, cold wine and baking cheese on a barbecue whose thin legs look as if they really should buckle, but never do, and making the neighbours jealous with the enticing smell, apparently. Feast
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Grace Dent
‘Landing inMerseyside, I suddenly feel at home’
NAIDRAUG EHT ROF WAHS & WAHS :SHPARGOTOHP
When lockdown eased, I told myself, I’d begin my adventures in eating out again in Liverpool. Perhaps that’s not the obvious choice for most people, but my father’s a Scouser, and since he can no longer speak, there is something about landing in Merseyside, the way the people there simply are and the rhythms of their dialect that makes me feel suddenly at home. Even the receptionist at the Pullman talking me through the hotel breakfast times felt like a cuddle. An hour later, across Albert Dock at the taqueria Madre, I see a man in his 70s out celebrating his daughter’s birthday with his family and staring in bemusement at a table laden with 22
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tuna tostadas and baja cod tacos. His splutters felt ever so familiar – they were like my father’s when we tried to take him farther than the Toby Carvery. Of course, as I age, too, I now can’t decide what words were heard in my living room in the 1980s and what were in fact Bobby Grant nagging Damian and Barry in Brookside, because those characters felt for a time like close family, too. Billions have been spent on rejigging and rebuilding the city, and there’s an increasingly vibrant restaurant scene. In fact, a day that involves lunch at Pilgrim on Duke Street, dinner at Belzan on Smithdown Road, with a scoot
Madre
6 Atlantic Pavilion Albert Dock, Liverpool L3, 0151709 4152. Open all week, noon10.30pm. From £25-30 a head for three courses, plus drinks and service
The Guardian Saturday 5 June 2021
around Harvey Nichols in between is very possibly my favourite leisure day ever. But I never nag foodie people to hurry up and visit the city, because it has a mysterious, uncharted quality that makes outsiders narrow their eyes, say, “It’s nice there? Really? And there are restaurants?” then sail past to the gastropubs of the Ribble Valley or the more lavishly publicised Michelin joints of Ancoats in Manchester. And that’s fine by me, because it means I’ll be first in line for a table at Luke French and Stacey SherwoodFrench’s latest venture, Nama, in the new GPO food hall at the new Metquarter development. It also means I’ll be able to get a table all summer long in the suntrap courtyard at Madre and drink their powerful “green wasp” margaritas made with Tapatio tequila, cucumber, coriander, habanero and agave. As Liverpool, like the rest of the country, recently reopened, I heard reports that Madre was thriving, albeit more as a bar than a restaurant. In the months to come, however, they may need to lure back diners, because on the Wednesday I went, now that we can finally eat
indoors again, the tables in this Grade I-listed building were relatively empty. Right now, Madre feels more like a boisterous bar with a nod towards the bottles of Valentina hot sauce on each table, but the food menu is nonetheless ambitious, much as you’d expect from the folk behind Belzan and the now-closed Volpi going into a collaboration with the people from Breddos Tacos in London. The tuna tostada, for example, is a fearsome, black plate of sashimi-grade tuna loin marinated to the colour of midnight in soy, mirin, agave and habanero, then topped with an avocado puree and large, roughly chopped slices of green chilli. On the menu, it sounds intriguing, but on the table it needs a more delicate balance, because this is fine fish being bombarded with noise. Baja fish tacos are certainly prettier, with tempura Atlantic cod perched on a subtle jalapeño aïoli and salsa; after a good slosh of that hot sauce, they’re most definitely decent. A large sharing plate of barbecued pit-roasted sweet potato and cauliflower arrives in salsa matcha butter with spring onion and feta. The cauliflower is semi-hard, which
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Salford Media City. Lunch on Countdown’s dictionary corner: yaki udon delivery from Wagamama.
Courgette tart at Bermondsey Larder. Delicately constructed and definitely delicious. @gracedent
makes me think the kitchen is maybe having an off day, but we move on, undeterred, to a large sharing bowl of shell-on prawns on a bed of soft mango and radish and swimming in emerald jalapeño and roast garlic butter. That slick of buttery goodness at the bottom of the plate is the most delicious thing we eat all night; the side of refried beans, meanwhile, is finely pulped and a little forgettable. At this point, I ditch all plans for dinner and order two incredible Café Madre cocktails, made with popcornflavoured vodka, Patron XO café, Nixta coffee liqueur and espresso. I have a strict one-only rule with any espresso-based martinis, because one is always delicious and eveningtransforming, two always feels like a good idea but is really one too many, while after three there’s a risk that by the end of the night you’ll be plotting a coup in a faraway country. As we leave, the courtyard is in full swing with people laughing and drinking and being together. Right now, Madre is an unmissable cocktail bar where the food has taken a back seat. But it’s fun, it’s definitely open and it’s making many, many Liverpudlians happy. And, right now, that’s about as good as it gets. Feast
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