katharine’s Lentil Soup

>Ingredients
225g split red lentils
25g butter
1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely diced
2 carrots, scrubbed and finely diced
Grated rind of 1 lemon
1150ml light vegetable stock
Salt and pepper

Method
1. Pick over the lentils and remove any stones. Rinse well.
2. Heat the butter in a large saucepan and fry the onion for 2-3 minutes.
3. Add the diced celery and carrots and let the vegetables sweat for 5-10 minutes.
4. Stir in the lentils, add the lemon rind, stock and salt and pepper to taste.
5. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer for 15-20 minutes until the vegetables are tender.
6. Roughly blend the soup in a liquidiser or food processor. It should not be too smooth.
7. Check the seasoning and reheat gently.

Enjoy!

jerk seasoning

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The very best jerk seasoning in the world is a wet marinade called Walkerswood, which is fairly easily available in many London stores including Tescos. If you can’t get access to this, make your own. It’s easy, and you will find your own style with trial and error. Here is a starter recipe to get you going.

Ingredients

1 onion, finely chopped
2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves, finely chopped
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon all spice
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon sugar
4 to 6 hot chilli peppers, finely chopped
2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Mix all ingredients together in a bowl. Add a little water to the mix to form a paste. Rub onto your chicken, pork or fish and marinate for up to 24 hours before cooking.

A Real Slow Food Weekend

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Never mind A Taste of Slow, this weekend I did things my way.

For once I got up early enough to get to Victoria Market at a reasonable hour. Still suffering from my cold, I didn’t delay, but headed straight for my favourite local winery stall to stock up on shiraz. Davd from Candlebark Hill winery chatted about famous people (he traded his story about Tim Spall for mine about Sir Ian McKellen). Six bottles better off, I wandered back through the throngs to my own local market in Footscray.

There I bought some beautiful pork belly from the Vietnamese butcher, and some diced beef. At the fishmongers I chose a nice slab of fresh tuna (which I froze when I got home for later in the week) and threw in a kilo of fresh sardines as they looked so lovely.

Back at home, I realised that the sardines would need gutting before we could eat them. Orlando vaguely remembered how, from his aunt Gloria, and after a brief instruction session I set to. Fifteen minutes later I had a big bowl of fish guts and 22 tiny butterfly fillets.

I remembered my chilli chutney from the Taste of Slow market, and combined it with garlic and lime for the marinade. I grilled the sardines lightly and we polished them off for lunch with some fresh bread.

It didn’t take long to prepare the spices for my favourite Rick Stein recipe for crispy pork belly. You have to leave the meat resting in the spices for a day or so before cooking so I got that organised after the washing up.

While I was at it, I cleaned out and re-filled my trusty masala dhaba. From the top, we have lemon pepper, black mustard seeds, cloves and cardamoms, garam masala, turmeric, chilli powder, and finally szechuan peppercorns in the centre. Pretty, isn’t it?

Then I took a nap.

Next day, I spent the afternoon on the sofa watching a remake of South Pacific, with a proper old-fashioned box of Milk Tray chocolates on my lap and a blanket over me. It took almost five hours to cook the pork belly to perfection and less than twenty minutes to devour it.

Now, that’s what I call a slow food weekend.

Five Things to Eat Before You Die – preamble

>Traveler’s Lunchbox has been hosting a Foodblogger’s Guide to the Globe, asking everyone to list their top five things to eat before you die. The list is up to 1,245 not including those left in the comments. Fascinating reading.

Some people have specified not only what dish, but where you should eat it and who should have cooked it. I think this is cheating a little bit, because how are we ever going to sample “my mother-in-law’s oxtail stew with butter beans” or “a piece of my world famous carrot cake”?

I preferred Harmonia’s approach:
1151. Quinoa
1152. Hummum
1153. Avocado
1154. Tea
1155. Garlic

…or the contribution from doodles:
1156. Cioppino in San Francisco
1157. White pizza in Italy
1158. Beer in Munich
1159. Chinese food in Toronto
1160. Lobster in Maine and Mexican food in Topolabumpo

But my favourite was probably Andrew – simple and yet perfect:
261. Picking the bits off a chicken carcass
262. Fruit straight from a tree
263. Blackberry and Apple Pie
264. Mr Whippy Ice-cream
265. Any meal with friends

I am still working on my top five, but in the meantime here are five things I will be eating in Ireland (far too specific to be included in my real list):

1. Proper Irish brown bread
2. Irish sausages from my mother’s pork butcher, Peadar Kelly, in Palmerstown
3. Bananas!
4. Smoked cod and chips from the local chipper
5. Real apple tart made by my mum

chocolate heaven

We wandered the last little pocket of the grounds as the crowds started to die away. Many of the stallholders had sold out and were tidying up or standing around chatting. I noticed a preserves stall and Mena and I tried a Food Symphony divine raisin, tea and tokay preserve – perfect for a bread-and-butter pudding or, well, simply sitting quietly and eating with a spoon direct from the jar.

The outright winner was an impossibly rich chocolate, vanilla and port dipping sauce made with real Belgian chocolate. Even Orlando was deeply impressed. I immediately asked to buy a jar and Jamie, the owner, said he only had tasting stock and had none to sell. I vowed to go straight to David Jones the next day and buy some. We thanked him for his time, took a business card, and walked away. Moments later I felt a tug at my sleeve. Jamie stood with his last remaining jar of the chocolate sauce, and handed it to me. “A gift”, he said. “You loved it so much I couldn’t not give it to you.” What a lovely guy.

Orlando took it straight off me and put it in his backpack. I guess I won’t be seeing that again.

The Ark of Taste

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Back around the other side of the convent, Orlando and I entered the Ark of Taste. It was all quite mysterious: we queued for about ten minutes to get in, and stood in a dark confined space surrounded by red velvet curtains whilst a woman called Astrid explained what we were about to see.

The idea of the Ark of Taste is to try and protect some of the world’s food which are endangered. The International Ark Guidelines state that to be accepted onto the Ark of Taste all products must be:

– Outstanding in terms of taste
– Endangered or underthreat
– Related to or part of the history of a group of people
– Related to or part of the history of a place
– In limited production

Inside, we were given tasting implements (spoon, dipping stick etc.) and wandered from stand to stand tasting and hearing about the many foods which are endangered.

An elderly lady from the Australian Countrywomen’s Association explained that backing skills were being lost as so many people were too busy and relied on shop-bought cakes and sponge mixes instead of using the old methods. She patiently explained not to “go at your sponge mix like a bull at a gate” but to stir it gently so as not to remove the air from the mixture. Certainly the sample I tried was as light as a feather.

The aged beef was unbelievably tender and full of flavour. I asked the man what the ideal time was to hang beef, and how long the usual supermarket meat had been hung. His reply was that three to six weeks was a good time to age beef, whilst the stuff we buy in the supermarket was so fresh it was “still yelling” as he put it.

The leatherwood honey from Tasmania had a distinct smoky flavour to it. The rare smoked eelhad a distinctive and delicious taste.

A poignant stall showed Mount Emu cheese which used to be made in rural Victoria, by introducing a particular mould into the cheese making process. When the cheese-maker’s lease expired they had to move to new premises, and the new local council would not allow them to use this particular mould for health and safety reasons. Without it, the cheese was no longer special. The last of these amazing cheeses were manufactured in 2004, and the cheese maker has not gone out of business permanently. And we think that the EU has the monopoly on bureaucracy.

Orlando got chatting to a man called George from up near Albury on the border with NSW. He was there with his wife and daughter. The daughter had just graduated and was finding it as hard as we had to get a job in Melbourne, where who you know is more important that what you know. The man’s sister and brother-in-law had a stall in the Ark of Taste with locally-produced fortified wines, a fino, an amontillado and an oloroso. We tasted all three and Mena squirreled two of their tiny tasting glasses away in her pockets.

I tasted some real butter, made from the milk of a single jersey herd, and never frozen like the mass-produced butter we buy. What a completely different taste.