Spanish olives

One of the big changes is moving away from the old town is that I no longer have the central market next door. However, there is a smaller market about 15 minutes up the road, which in some ways I prefer. Partly because I had spread myself too thin at the old one, and found myself sneaking around between different butcher's stalls trying to convince them all that I was a regular customer who deserved the best treatment, like a 19th century French politician who has taken on more mistresses than he can handle. (And I will still be going back into town for Antonio's retinto beef. "Nobody beats my meat".)



I was worried that the olives in the new market would not be up to the ones Matías sells in the town centre, which unfailingly came with the comment "bien despachado" (a generous serving) and the advice to keep them in the fridge. Fortunately there is a good olive stall in the new market, too, and my favourites are these "verdiales gordas". I don't know why, but Spanish olives don't really seem to make it to the UK, where most olives are either Greek or Italian. I guess, also, that this kind of light treatment is less well-suited to transport and extended shelf-life.

Spicy cabbage with black beans and fish sauce

I have had a cabbage lurking in the bottom of my fridge for a couple of weeks now, looking accusingly at me out of the salad tray from time to time. Fortunately it was plastic-wrapped and was able to remain fresh while I got round to deciding what to do with it.



Cabbage on its own can be a bit boring (or even composty), so I think it benefits from strong flavours. I guess this is the thinking behind sauerkraut, and this is a sort of oriental version. It's quite salty and hot, and the black beans give it a slightly smoky flavour.

Ingredients
vegetable oil
1 green cabbage
3 cloves of garlic
1 tablespoon of black beans
2 tablespoons of fish sauce
1 tablespoon of chilli sauce

Method

1. Remove the core and cut the cabbage into fine strips. Chop the garlic. Rinse the black beans in water to remove some of the salt, and chop.
2. Fry the garlic in some vegetable oil for 30 seconds or so, add the black bean sauce and fry for a few seconds more, then add the cabbage, fish sauce and chilli sauce, stir well, cover and cook gently until the cabbage is cooked but still has a little bite. (Around 10 minutes).

Small is beautiful
Here is my kitchen, complete with laptop on the left and empty beer bottle on the right.

Orange almond couscous cake

Cakes are one of those areas where even quite proficient cooks are reluctant to improvise. I guess this is the result of the mania for measurement which surrounds baking, coupled with the erroneous belief that any movement beyond certain fairly strict parameters will inevitably result in disaster. There is also, to be fair, something inherently mysterious about baking cakes. You fill a tin with some rather unappetising batter, pop it into the oven, and take it out to find that it has been transformed into a delicious cake. The fact that baking is often something of a special event may also make us particularly intolerant of the failures which would inevitably accompany experimentation.



I don't know how many basic types of cake there are in European cuisine. (I wonder if anyone has ever tried to produce a typology of them, a bit like those claims that there are only seven plots in the whole of world literature.) One very simple version involves mixing eggs, sugar and flour, and possibly adding something else for extra flavour (fruit or chocolate, for example). There's no reason why the carbohydrate element has to be provided by flour. I already have a recipe for an orange cake with polenta, and it occurred to me that the polenta could be replaced by couscous. The result was very successful - moist and with a good texture, without being crumbly. The overall flavour is quite intense, as the whole oranges give it an almost marmalade-like bitterness, so probably one to serve to grown-ups. I think it would be good hot with some vanilla ice cream.

Ingredients
3 large oranges
6 eggs
150 g couscous
150 g ground almonds
300 g demerara sugar

Method

1. Place two of the oranges in plenty of water, bring to the boil and simmer for one hour. Drain the oranges, and allow to cool.
   
2. Preheat the oven to 180°C, and line and grease a springform cake tin.
   
3. Halve the oranges and puree in a food processor.
   
4. Transfer the orange puree to a mixing bowl, and beat in the eggs, couscous, almonds and 250 g of the demerara sugar. (Set aside the remaining 50g to make orange syrup with.)
   
5. Pour the mixture into the tin, bake for 1 hour and remove from the oven.
   
6. Meanwhile, juice and zest the remaining orange.
   
7. Make a syrup by gently heating the remaining 50g of sugar, zest and juice for a few minutes until the sugar is dissolved. Strain through a tea strainer to remove the zest.
   
8. While the cake is still in the tin, prick it all over with a toothpick to allow the syrup to soak in, and pour the syrup over it.

Pac-Man
My video game career never really got beyond Pac-Man. The next game I tried was Frogger, but I struggled with its complexity. I don't know how much money I had wasted (and how many electronic frogs I drowned) before I finally realised that although I had to navigate my way across the road by jumping into the gaps between the oncoming vehicles, I had to cross the river by jumping onto the logs and not into the gaps between them. It struck me as a bit arbitrary and I gave up at that point. After all, surely frogs can swim and don't need to hitch rides on logs.

Puchero gaditano - Cadiz chicken soup with chickpeas, vegetables and noodles

Chicken soup or stew with chickpeas is central to Spanish food. The most famous version is the cocido madrileño (Madrid stew) which is a chickpea stew with a selection of meats and vegetables. The Cadiz version is called puchero and is a little lighter than its Madrid counterpart.



Butchers in Cadiz always have a couple of trays on top of their counter containing various strange-looking items which are used to make the caldo or stock for the puchero. These include salted lard, ribs, vertebrae and trotters, and sections of ham bone. The butcher also sells pre-soaked bags of chickpeas, in case you've forgotten to put your chickpeas in to soak the night before.



Greengrocers also provide a little selection of vegetables for use when making puchero: leek, celery, carrot, turnip and some fresh mint. Collectively, these are los avíos del puchero.



There are lots of recipes in the Sephardi Jewish repertoire for chicken with chickpeas, and it is quite possible that the Spanish versions are Jewish in origin, with the prominent use of ham bones and other pork products ensuring that cook and diners would be safe from any accusations of backsliding from the Spanish Inquisition. (Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition ...!) This somewhat overstated use of blatantly unkosher items is a feature of Spanish food. I guess it is the culinary equivalent of a closeted gay man constantly talking about cars and girls.

Ingredients
300g dried chickpeas
1 piece of salted lard
1 piece of salted pork rib
1/2 salted pig's trotter
1 piece of ham bone
2 leeks
2 sticks of celery
2 carrots
1 small turnip
1 small bunch of mint
8 skinless chicken thighs
100g fine soup noodles



Method

1. Put the chickpeas to soak in plenty of water the night before.
2. The next day, place the chickpeas in a large pot, cover with plenty of water, and bring to the boil.
3. Meanwhile, finely chop the leeks, celery, carrots and turnip.
4. Once the chickpeas have reached the boil, skim off any scum, then add the lard, rib, pig's trotter and ham bone, bring back to the boil, reduce to a low heat and cover and simmer gently for about half an hour.
5. Add the chopped vegetables, add a bit of water if the soup looks to dry, and simmer for another hour or so. Check to make sure that the chickpeas are very nearly done.
6. Add the chicken fillets and simmer for another half an hour or so.
7. Add the noodles and simmer until they are cooked.
8. Remove the lard, rib, pig's trotter and ham bone, and serve the puchero in a soup plate.

Authenticity
I have made a couple of changes to a typical puchero gaditano, replacing whole unskinned chicken leg with separate, skinless thighs. I have also not included one of the traditional ingredients, which is a large chunk of boiling beef. In my opinion, this makes a cheap dish expensive, while the beef itsel ftends to come out a bit dry and tasteless.



There's nothing wrong with trying to produce 'authentic' versions of dishes, but I think this is something we can get too hung up on. It is often little more than an excuse for buying expensive imported ingredients instead of cheaper local ones, and can be a barrier to creativity. If you are making this soup in the UK (or anywhere where funny bits of salted pig are hard to come by), then just use a good chicken stock or substitute with something you think will work. After all, the presence of pig in this dish is itself probably the result of an earlier innovation.

Talking of authenticity, in the modern Spanish home this would almost always be made with a pressure cooker. In that case, you just bung all the ingredients in at the start (apart from the noodles) and cook until the chickpeas are done.

Cock-a-leekie
If I was more given to crazy ethnographic theories, I would suggest that Scotland's cock-a-leekie soup has its origins in a small group of Sephardic Jews who made their way north after being expelled by Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492, bringing with them their love for chicken soup. No chickpeas being available, they substituted with barley, and helped create one of Scotland's national dishes: a chicken soup containing leeks, potatoes, barley and prunes.

Sesame potato wedges

Potato wedges!? This was inspired (if that's the right word) by a menu Gemma was translating into Spanish. It read like a spoof of everything that is worst about British food cliche: prawns marie rose (that's mayonnaise with ketchup), jacket potatoes, and even Quorn chilli. For anyone who doesn't know, Quorn is a meat substitute made from an 'edible' fungus. I've never understood this. If you're a vegetarian, then why would you choose to eat nasty ersatz meat instead of proper vegetables? After all, you can easily make a meat-free chilli by replacing the meat with some aubergines. However, the potato wedges made me curious. We eat a lot of chips in our house, and while I don't worry at all about the health aspect of this, it's always good to have something else to do with potatoes. I got on the web and this was the result.



Ingredients
1 kg of potatoes
olive oil
1 tablespoon of sesame seeds
4 bay leaves
salt
pepper

Method

1. Wash the potatoes but don't peel them. Cut them into wedges and mix in a large bowl with all the other ingredients.
2. Transfer to an oven tray or dish and bake at 200oC for 45 minutes or until done.

Spring is here
We ate these on our roof terrace, together with the aubergine and bean puree and some beautiful steaks. We've had a long wet winter in Cadiz this year (well, long and wet by local standards), but the sun is back and it's getting warm. Soon it will be time for picnics on the beach.

Aubergine and bean puree

Chick pea-based hummus so dominates the dip scene that we often forget that other pulses make good dips or purees, too, as does aubergine. In the past, I have sometimes been guilty of using up all my energy on the main dish, and not putting any effort into the accompaniments. This is part of my ongoing resolution to pay more attention to the little things in life.



Ingredients
1 aubergine
1 can of white kidney beans
a handful of chopped parsley
1 teaspoon of garlic puree
1 teaspoon of ground cumin
salt
plenty of olive oil
juice of 1 lemon
2 spring onions, chopped

Method
Peel the aubergine, chop it into large chunks, and fry it until cooked. (I cook it in my deep fryer, but you could shallow fry as well.) Put all the ingredients into your food processor (including a good dash of olive oil) and whizz until you have a fairly smooth puree. Serve as a dip or as a vegetable side dish.

Beansprouts and peanuts with ginger and chilli

Apparently British family doctors have what they refer to as 'heartsink patients' - the ones who make your heart sink when they walk through the door. Well, I have heartsink ingredients, the kind of thing that sits in your fridge and inspires you with a mixture of gloom, guilt and boredom in equal measure. For me, one of the great things about writing this blog is that it has given me a fresh approach to some of these ingredients, and now instead of my heart sinking I tend to see them as a challenge to my culinary imagination. I think this crunchy, spicy take on beansprouts is quite effective.



Ingredients
vegetable oil
250 g beansprouts
a generous handful of peanuts
1 teaspoon of chilli paste
1 teaspoon of fresh ginger
a good dash of fish sauce
a drizzle of sesame oil

Method
Heat a little oil in a large frying pan. When hot, add the chilli paste and ginger and stir-fry for 10 seconds or so. Throw in the peanuts and stir fry for a few more seconds, then add the beansprouts and stir fry for a little longer. (Just long enough to heat the beansprouts - you don't want to cook them too much or they will lose their crunch.) Transfer to a serving bowl and dress with the fish sauce and sesame oil.