food to glow

Lentil Bolognese, Book Review and a Giveaway

kellieanderson — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 14:19:50 +0000

Today’s post is a bit different for me and, consequently, for you. Normally food to glow is centred round my recipes, what I’m doing, my opinions. Basically it’s me, me, me, as most blogs are. I know I’m not bad at citing other sites and dabbling in others’ recipes, but I’m not really one for contests and round-ups, and some of the fun, interactive things that make visiting such inclusive blogs a pleasure. This is partly due to my lack of technical nous with such things (much more complicated than you would think), but also because I wished to not alienate the very folk for whom I initially started writing – people with cancer and their loved ones. But I think perhaps this has been a bit wrong-headed. And so with this post I am set to change my ways, at least a little. Not only am I making someone else’s recipe, I am reviewing their book, AND having a giveaway. I might have to go for a lie down now.

And, what a book. Zest for Life: the Mediterranean Anti-Cancer Diet, by nutritionist and health writer Conner Middelman-Whitney, may well be life-changing for those who read it. Not only is it a brilliant, accessibly written reference book for those wanting to know more about how the foods we eat can influence health, she also has some inventive, yet easy (!) recipes that beautifully illustrate her powerful message: that what you eat can and does influence your health. Although the book hones in on cancer, much of what she writes about applies just as much to other ‘lifestyle’ illnesses and diseases – heart disease, type 2 diabetes, stroke, arthritis. This book is aimed at anyone wanting to reduce their risk of cancer as well as those who have been diagnosed with cancer. But its usefulness and, dare I say, appeal, will be to anyone concerned about their health and the health of their loved ones. I think that covers most of us, doesn’t it?

The first part of the book – The Food-Cancer Connection – is informational, but also personal, charting Conner’s journey from stressed out financial journalist to full-time nutritionist, with diagnosis and treatment for cervical cancer along the way. She doesn’t dwell on her cancer experience. Instead she gives an honest and recognisable account of transforming her diet from a typical Western one of takeaways, grabbed pastries and coffees, to the abundant and plant-filled Mediterranean diet she and her family of five thrive on today.

Conner’s highly personal and very charming style continues with her well-referenced chapters on the principles of the Mediterranean diet itself (which, despite what many chain Italian restaurants would have us believe, is definitely not based on pizza!), cancer and its connection with the food – the good and the bad, and what she calls ‘Let’s Get Cooking’. The latter is a motivating and tip-filled chapter that I can hardly read now for all the notes I made. I will certainly go back to this chapter again and again. Although she gives us some quite stark and damning information about the food many of us eat, this is more than balanced by her positive and completely do-able approach to a Mediterranean way of eating.

For me, the Eating for Life section was hugely motivating. My family and I already eat a largely Mediterranean diet by default (with a Scottish twist of course), and this chapter inspires me further by skilfully weaving information on the chemo-preventive and therapeutic features of this style of eating, with practical ways of putting it all into practice. She also gives advice on, among other things, cooked versus raw foods, frozen versus fresh, guidance for portion sizes, whether we should eat completely organically and eating healthily on a budget (I’ve got highlighter pen all over this bit). Hers is a balanced approach, with sensible advice peppered conversationally throughout the book. Those looking for a firm template of the ‘you should be eating this, this and this everyday and in this order’ may be disappointed not to see such a plan, but the majority will agree with her that a self-selected, wide-ranging and mainly plant-filled way of eating is not only the healthiest, but also hugely pleasurable.

When you flick through the recipes you will see just how pleasurable – and simple – a Mediterranean diet can be: Garlic-crusted Baked Cod, Cherry Tomato Clafoutis, Coconut Lentil Stew & Avocado Relish (gorgeous dish), Rabbit in Mustard Sauce, Swiss Chard au Gratin, Raspberry Semifreddo (using thick Greek yogurt instead of cream). Or how about Chicken and Prune Tagine, Express Bouillabaisse, Tofu Dijonnaise, or Cauliflower ‘Couscous’ – using what she calls the “substitutionist’s conjuring trick” of replacing a grain with a lookalike vegetable? I could go on and on. The only negative thing I can say about the book is the lack of photos, but perhaps that leaves us free to present a dish how we like, without the styled and perfect images that make us think ours is somehow imperfect by comparison. And because the 160 recipes are uncomplicated and well-written, photos would be a pretty addition, not a vital requirement.

As it is a Mediterranean cookbook, albeit one prefaced by anti-cancer information and advice, expect to see omnivorous, whole-food recipes from all of these sun-drenched countries: France, Italy, Spain, Greece, Turkey, Morocco, with a foray into the Middle East too. Conner emphasises the Mediterranean Diet’s ‘Holy Trinity’ of variety, quality and conviviality in her colourful, simply made recipes. If you already like to eat healthily, you will want to make each one. And if you are still a bit reticent or concerned how to make eating well an everyday occurence, Conner’s recipes make it easy and delicious. As a fairly recent convert to sardines I am especially looking forward to trying her six (!) such piscine recipes.

Although Conner is based in the south of France, her recipes use American food terminology and both metric and American measures. Appendices give measurement conversions (although you shouldn’t you need them), a glossary of culinary terms, a template for weekly meal planning, shopping and pantry staples, and resources on cancer – organisations, further reading and Mediterranean cook books (old and new). Conner rounds out her book by giving excellent notes and references to follow up should you be interested in knowing more about the cancer and food connection. This is a truly fantastic reference and cookbook rolled into one. Although not a ‘coffee table’ cookbook a la any celebrity chef you can name, Zest for Life will be the book you use again and again. I know I will.

I am pleased as punch to have two copies of Zest for Life to give away. To be in the running to receive one all you need to do is leave a comment mentioning your favourite Mediterranean ingredient and, if you like, your favourite way to use it. I will pick two comments at random and let the winners know by email.

And I must declare an interest of sorts in Conner’s book: she kindly gives a portion of her royalties to Maggies’s Cancer Caring Centres. Although she has no connection with Maggie’s, Conner wanted to ‘give something back’ and Maggie’s met her criteria of looking after not only those with cancer, but also their families. She also wanted to support a charity that was not gender or cancer-type specific, provides a nutrition programme, and that takes a “positive, empowering approach to cancer and focuses on values like joy, hope and life”. In an email, Conner wrote: “In fact, I was struck by how Maggie’s slogan, “The Joy of Living,” mirrored the title of my book, “Zest for Life”. This upbeat, life-affirming ethos of Maggie’s Centres is particularly palpable when you find yourself inside these centres, which are not only architecturally stunning, but also very warm, welcoming, human places. I want to help Maggie’s build many more of these wonderful centres, which I think play an absolutely vital role for people facing cancer.”

And now to the recipe: I chose Conner’s fibre-rich take on an Italian classic, Lentil Bolognese with Spaghetti Squash. It is a fantastic recipe, and I can vaguely link it to Valentine’s Day by way of the Disney film, “The Lady and the Tramp”. You know, the famous spaghetti eating scene. In truth I am far too messy and unromantic to attempt to eat Conner’s Lentil Bolognese in this way, but you go right ahead.

Spaghetti squash are currently out of season so I did as Conner advises and used normal spaghetti. There is well enough healthy fibre in this recipe to go straight for the white stuff, but use wholemeal or gluten-free if you like. She herself sometimes has it over nearly-crunchy, finely minced cauliflower. All of the ingredients, save the unsweetened almond milk, are immediately recognisable and more or less pantry/vegetable bin staples. I must admit to not having the almond milk so I used organic skimmed milk, which worked just fine. I’ve never added a dairy element to my usual Bolognese (I know many people do), but I think it does mellow the acidity of the tomatoes and wine. We all thought this was a subtle but lovely addition. As you will see, her instructions are straightforward. If you make it you will see/taste that the result is absolutely scrummy. As my daughter said, “You wouldn’t know there wasn’t meat in this. Do we have to leave enough for leftovers?” The answer, of course, was “yes”. And it was even better the next day. My advice: make double.

Lentil Bolognese with Spaghetti Squash

This recipe, from Conner Middelman-Whitney’s book, Zest for Life: the Mediterranean Anti-Cancer Diet, is beautifully flavoured and textured. If you are used to having a meat-based Bolognese you may be surprised how ‘meaty’ this dish tastes, in a good way. I made some substitutions to keep from making an extra trip to the shops, but it really is pretty much store-cupboard ingredients. I’ve made my own notations in squared brackets [ ].

See how to get your own copy by going to the zestforlife website and, of course, try and grab a free one from me by commenting on this post. Find out more about Conner and her first-of-its-kind cancer prevention cooking course by reading this review from the Telegraph newspaper.

1 spaghetti squash [or use pasta when the squash isn’t in season]

4 tbsp olive oil

1 onion

2 cloves garlic, chopped

1 carrot, finely cubed

1 leek, sliced

1 rib celery, chopped

1 oz/25g dried mushrooms, rehydrated for 15 minutes in warm water and chopped [I also used 100g of fresh mushrooms]

15 oz/400g cooked French green lentils [Canadian are very similar]

½ tsp each thyme, oregano and basil [I used dried oregano and thyme and no basil]

1 bay leaf

2 fl oz/.25 cup/60 ml red wine

2 fl oz/.25 cup/60ml unsweetened almond milk [I used skimmed milk]

15 oz/400g tomatoes, chopped [I used a tin of Cirio tomatoes]

2 tbsp tomato paste

acacia honey (optional)

freshly grated Parmesan or pecorino cheese

salt and freshly ground black pepper

[I also added some chilli flakes onto each serving]

Cut the raw squash in two halves, scrape out the seeds and steam in a large pot, flesh facing upwards. Test for doneness after 30 minutes: the squash is ready when the flesh can be pulled out with a fork in spaghetti-like threads cooked al dente. Scrape flesh carefully into a warmed serving bowl, season with salt and pepper, drizzle with 2 tablespoons olive oil; toss gently, cover and keep warm.

While the squash is steaming, heat olive oil in a pot and cook onion and garlic until translucent. Add carrot, leek, celery and mushrooms and cook, stirring, for 10 minutes. Add lentils, herbs, red wine and milk and reduce by half [I didn’t do this as it seemed plenty thick; I added chopped parsley because I had a huge bunch)

Add tomatoes and tomato paste, cover and cook for another 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper; if the tomatoes are sour, add a little honey to round off the flavor (optional).

Serve squash on individual plates with a generous portion of sauce and sprinkled with grated cheese. Serves 4 [very, very generously]

Puy-type green lentils - use tinned or 'pouch' lentils for convenience

Savoury Beetroot and Cheese Loveheart Scones

kellieanderson — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 14:23:33 +0000

What do you hope to get this Valentine’s Day? A box of exquisitely-packaged chocolates, the kind with epicurean flavours (definitely not procured from the petrol station)? Or, how about red rose petals, strewn in your filled bath, with a flute of pink champagne delicately balanced within stretching distance? I’ll take a bit of that, thank you very much!

Well, what would you say about a basket of freshly baked beetroot and cheese scones? For breakfast. Sound a bit odd as a Valentine’s treat? Well, there are advantages: no choccie-smeared face on the bus to work for starters; and no petals stuck in uncomfortable places. And they are pink.
And you could have champagne with them. I haven’t tried this, but it could work. I do know these light, savoury scones go jolly well with a smoky mug full of lapsang souchong tea. And absolutely heavenly with a schmear of salted English butter. I would agree that it sounds odd but I promise you, hand on heart, these are absolutely terrific scones. The beetroot is so subtle as to be only a background note of savouriness; and the dash of Worcestershire sauce and wee dollop of grain mustard elevate this way beyond a plain cheese scone. If you have a favourite scone recipe you could even try it with these adaptations. But I have tried many permutations of this most British of baked goods and I really think this is a keeper, with or without the hint of pink.

So save the chocs and the scented bath for later, and treat you and your loved one(s)s to a funky breakfast of crazy pink scones. Be a devil and don’t let on that the pink comes from a bit of grated beetroot. But do tell them – after they shower you with compliments. Valentine’s Day is about surprises. Nobody said the surprise can’t be beetroot.

History Bit (bear with me, please) I’m not terribly sure that whoever invented scones would recognise them in this salmon-pink disguise. The first published mention of the scone was all the way back in 1513, in a translation of the Aeneid by the Scots poet, Gavin Douglas: ‘The flour sconnis war sett in, by and by, wyth other mesis.’ Hmm, not very enlightening. But we do know that the original scones were unleavened - bicarbonate of soda was a mid-19th century invention – and made of ‘fine white fout’ (reflecting the possible source of the name scone, from the Dutch for fine white bread – schoonbroot) and soured milk (buttermilk). These would have been flat, much like today’s Scottish potato scone, and scored to give four portions. Later, leavened versions would also favour this quadrant sharing size. Individual portions are a recent tinkering, probably Victorian. Love those Victorians as I am not much of a sharer at heart, always making sure that anything portioned should either favour me, or be excruciatingly millimetre-perfect in its cutting or ladling. My husband – an only child – thinks I’m a bit mad.

Of much more importance is, of course, pronunciation. No word promotes such a nationalistic twinge to a Scot as the ‘incorrect’/English pronunciation of scone. Here, in the land of its invention, it rhymes with ‘gone’, indicated by the Gaelic word for scone, ‘sgoon’ (long soft ‘o’). The English, and Americans, rhyme it with ‘stone’. Even I, American-born but living here for 20-hmm years cringes when I hear the ‘stone’ pronunciation. Being a pedant I have to bite the insides of my cheeks not to utter a challenge. But I keep my mouth shut. Preferably with a scone. And don’t even get me started on the which-goes-first – the jam or the clotted cream – conundrum. We will leave that most English of conundrums to the English. But, for the record, I’m a jam-first girl. Sorry, Devon.

Beetroot and Cheese Scones

The amount of beetroot in these scones is really just for colour, but I have plenty of beetroot recipes should these pink scones pique your curiosity for this most maligned of vegetables. Want something sweet and healthy? Then how about super-moist Chocolate Beetroot Cake? For a hearty, toothsome salad with lots of amazing flavor, you could do worse than try Warm Beetroot, Lentil and Pepper Salad with Griddled Halloumi. And to ward off colds, or to have as a tasty nippy-sweet drink, whiz up a jug of Beetroot Zinger Juice – my riposte to germs and fatigue.

175 g unbleached plain flour (or use self-raising with 1/4 tsp baking powder added instead of below)

2 and ¼ tsp baking powder

3/4 tsp salt

25 g cold butter, small dice

75 g strong cheddar cheese or Cheshire cheese, grated

50 ml buttermilk (or dairy or non-dairy milk with a little lemon juice added)

1 tsp grain mustard

2 tsp Worcestershire sauce (Lea & Perrin’s for preference)

½ raw or cooked small beetroot (or whole -use 10 ml less milk if this option), finely grated

extra flour for rolling surface

a little milk for brushing on the scones (optional)

Preheat oven to 220 (200C fan). Sift the flour and baking powder into a large bowl. Rub the butter in with your fingertips, but preferably with a pastry cutter, until it’s evenly ‘crumbly’.

Mix in the cheese. In a small bowl or jug, stir together the buttermilk, Worcestershire sauce, mustard and beetroot shreds. Gradually add the wet mixture to the flour, stirring with a knife, until you achieve a soft dough and a ‘clean’ bowl. If there is quite a lot of flour that refuses to amalgamate, add a tablespoon more buttermilk. Resist the temptation to handle it with warm hands or you will get tough scones.

Plop the dough onto a floured surface and gently and not too precisely pat out the dough to about 1 inch (2.5 cm) or a bit deeper. Flour a 2 ½ inch (6 cm) scone cutter and cut out 5-7 scones (depending on the depth of dough and size of cutter). Place the scones on a well-oiled baking sheet, and brush the tops with milk. Bake on a high shelf for 15-20 minutes until the scones are well-risen and very golden. Pierce a scone with a toothpick and, if it comes out clean, it is done. Cool briefly on a wire rack (don’t leave on the baking sheet or they will get soggy bottoms). Serve warm with lots of salted butter. A pot of smokey lapsang souchong is the perfect accompaniment. These scones are also brilliant with nearly any soup.

Easy All-In-One Breakfast – Baked Egg and Mushroom

kellieanderson — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 20:16:33 +0000

You’re the best book I ever read

You’re the smartest thing I ever said

You’re breakfast in bed

You’re the fastest race I ever led

You’re the finest bride I’ll ever wed

You’re the skin I never wanna shed

You’re breakfast in bed

Excerpted from “Breakfast in Bed” by Train

How can I follow that? Well, I won’t even try. Luscious song, hypnotic beat, gorgeous, talented band. They inspired this lazy, easy breakfast. To be served to someone you love. That includes you. For a real treat, click on the link and listen while you dine.

Baked Egg and Mushroom Breakfast

Don’t be put off trying this if you can’t find the large mushrooms. Just get five brown mushrooms (or brown and shiitake), halve or quarter them and cook as described. When it is time to add the egg, just drain off the mushroom juices, dot over the condiments and garlic and then make a little ‘nest’ in the mushrooms; pop the egg on top. The egg white will amalgamate with the juices and oil in the pan, but it will still taste brilliant.

1 large Portabella/field mushroom – with sides intact and stem removed

olive oil

ketchup

wholegrain mustard

½ clove garlic, minced

1 organic egg

cherry tomatoes on the vine – as much as you like

Flaky salt

Potato scones & butter – to serve – optional

Rub a little olive oil onto the vine tomatoes and the bottom and sides of a baking dish. I used an enamel pie dish but anything to snugly cosset the mushroomy egg, and the tomatoes, will do fine.

Brush off the mushroom and, with a teaspoon, scoop out a suitable little hole to hold the egg yolk. But don’t put the egg in just yet. Pop the mushroom and tomatoes into a 200C/400F oven and bake for 10 minutes. When time is up take the dish and tilt it slightly to drain the mushroom juice into the rest of the dish where it will evaporate. Now rub a little mustard and ketchup over the surface of the mushroom, but not too much – about tsp of each; dot over the minced garlic and grind over a little pepper if you like. Break the egg into a bowl and with a large spoon (serving spoon size) scoop it up and place it gently onto the mushroom. Put the dish back into the oven for 8-12 minutes, depending on your oven and how you like your egg. Have a look at it around the eight-minute mark. You will probably find that the white is still translucent in places. Just cook it until this is just white, otherwise the yolk – because it has a higher fat content than the white – may cook too much. Mine was perfect at 10 minutes.

If you are having the potato scones, heat a small pinch of butter in a pan and, when foaming, turn the heat down a little and add in two potato scones. Cook until lightly browned on both sides. No ‘tattie’ scones (poor you!), well this is fabulous with wholegrain toast. Serve the egg-topped mushroom with a light scatter of flaky salt, buttery potato scones/toast and the fragrant tomatoes. How’s that for an easy all-in-one breakfast?

Big appetite? Cook off some organic bacon lardons and scatter these onto the cooking egg. Or flake over some smoked mackerel pieces as the egg cooks. Mmm

Butternut Squash and Spinach Lasagne – Low-fat and Luscious

kellieanderson — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 15:57:50 +0000

Hello from under the duvet! I know what you are thinking, lazy git/lucky cow. I would too. But before you get all judgmental/jealous I should clarify: this duvet day is not out of choice. Nope. Not surrounded by Heat magazines (which is the creme de la creme of trashy magazines in my humble opinion) and straight-to-DVD, DVDs. No sign of smoked salmon bagels either. You see, after the amazing high of being featured on last week’s wordpress.com homepage (still can’t quite believe it – click ‘earlier’), I have swiftly received my comeuppance. Temperature, sneezing, wheezing, aches in places that shouldn’t ache. Not forgetting the tap dancing in my head. If I were a man I would dub it the flu, but I’m not so it’s just a rubbish chesty thing. My once a year cold, perfectly timed to put me in my place.

What has kept me feeling perkier than I might be otherwise is reading the kind and encouraging comments to the blog. Mostly on the Tamarind and Shiitake Tofu post, but also many of the others. I can’t believe so many of you are raring to give tofu – and me – a go. Like I said a few times in the commenting, I am so grateful for every click through to food to glow. Astounded in fact that of all the zillions of food blogs out there that you found and read (possibly skimmed, I don’t know) my not very razzmatazz effort. So, so humbled. Thank you. Now before I get all sentimental and sappy, and you get bored, onto the recipe bit…

You spell it Lasagna, and I spell it Lasagne. However, if you look at them long enough, they both look wrong…

According to a recent UK YouGov survey for Sainsbury’s supermarket, lasagne came second to shepherd’s pie as top winter comfort food. Unsurprisingly, among 18-35 year-olds polled, lasagne topped the list. And who in their right mind doesn’t love a steaming slab of gooey, cheesy lasagne? Well, although many of us love this stalwart of the Italian restaurant, for the health-conscious it is usually a dish too far. My ‘beef’ (excuse the pun) is mainly due to the stratospheric amounts of saturated fat and sodium in a typical restaurant serving, but the calories are also quite breath-taking. According to livestrong.com, Olive Garden’s Lasagna Classico weighs in at a gut-busting 858 calories. This is without figuring in the soft buttery breadsticks and the dressing-laced salad that are too tempting to ignore. I couldn’t bear to see what the fat content was so you’ll have to look that up yourself.

But not all lasagnes are created equal. You and I both know that the best way to keep lasagne in your life without guilt/new trousers is, of course, to make it yourself. Homemade lasagne can easily be made lower-fat, even those with meat. For starters, slash the oil and choose lean meat (turkey?), draining off the fat after browning it; use lower fat cheese; add in vegetables for bulk and flavour; and try my cauliflower cheese trick with the sauce. Here is some good advice if you want to give your meat lasagne a makeover.

But this is a different proposition altogether: actually setting out to make a healthy lasagne, without compromise. Seasonal butternut squash – steamed to sweet perfection, wilted and nutmeggy spinach, easy homemade marinara, all between whatever pasta sheets you fancy. Doesn’t even have to be sheets of pasta – or pasta, for that matter; I’ve made it with layers of chickpea ‘spaghetti’. What you will notice is the lack of bechamel, that creamy blanket we have come to expect. I’m not a huge fan of bechamel, so it doesn’t feature. If however that’s an exclusion too far, here’s a good-looking olive oil-based sauce that keeps things more traditional. I won’t be offended if you top your lasagne with this.

It’s about time for me to top up my Lemsip and shamble downstairs for more not-working-so-far ginger tea, so here’s the recipe. Let me know if you try it.

By the way, for nutrition information on spinach, here you go, and for tomatoes, here it is. Including the beta-carotene heavy-hitter butternut squash, this dish has an embarrassment of antioxidants (with the latter link, check out #2 of the worst foods!). Lasagne as healthfood. Now that’s a makeover.

WHAT IS YOUR TOP COMFORT FOOD – HEALTHY OR OTHERWISE? DO YOU HAVE ANY ‘HEALTHY TWEAKS’ FOR COMFORT DISHES THAT YOU WANT TO SHARE? PLEASE GET IN TOUCH AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS.

Butternut Squash and Spinach Lasagna – Lower Fat and Luscious

This is one of the top requested ‘special occasion’ recipes at the Maggie’s Centre in Edinburgh. I think one of the reasons for its popularity is because it does pack a powerful taste punch in comparison to a lot of vegetarian lasagnes – something people going through taste bud-zapping chemotherapy can really appreciate. It takes a bit of time to prepare, but it’s easy, and you can freeze or refrigerate it for healthy, yummy leftovers. I often make a smaller one to eat immediately and freeze another in a foil dish. You will not use all of the delicious homemade sauce so perhaps have the rest as a pasta sauce later in the week with a tin of tuna added, or chuck it in a labelled bag and freeze for another lasagna. If you can’t be bothered/are too tired to make the tomato sauce (although it’s a cinch) use a best quality supermarket or deli sauce, or even a jar of garlic and tomato passata. Serve this lasagna with a sharply dressed salad, or even just some peas from the freezer. And, dare I say it, a slice or two of homemade garlic bread.

1 medium butternut squash (about 700-800g), peeled, deseeded and cubed (save the seeds*) – or the equivalent of frozen cubed butternut squash, about 550-650 g)

1tbsp + one tsp olive oil (divided)

3 leeks, finely sliced (divided) OR 1 and 1/2 lg sweet onions

4 garlic cloves, minced (divided)

1 large carrot, finely minced

1 stalk celery, finely minced

3 tsp dried oregano (divided)

2 tsp fresh thyme leaves or 1 tsp dried

2 x 400 g tins best quality chopped tomatoes (I like Cirio)

1 tbsp honey (optional)

salt and pepper

400 g spinach, wilted in a little water, drained well (squeezed of as much water as possible) and chopped OR frozen leaf spinach, lightly cooked, squeezed and chopped

50 g pine nuts, toasted until golden in a dry pan

150 g organic cottage cheese (or fat-free ricotta, or half of each)

1/8 tsp freshly grated nutmeg (a good pinch)

zest of half lemon

2 tsp powdered vegetable stock (I use Marigold Swiss Vegetable Bouillion)

1 pack of fresh or dry lasagne sheets (wholemeal if you like)

50 g sharp Cheddar cheese, grated OR 1 ball organic mozzarella, sliced (optional)

a small palmful of cured black olives (optional)

a little grated Parmesan (optional)

First, the sauce: make it by adding 1 tbsp of olive oil to a medium saucepan and heat on low-medium. Add two-thirds of the chopped leeks and half of the garlic to the pan, and soften for five minutes, stirring frequently. Add in the carrots, celery and 2 tsp oregano; sauté gently for a further 10 minutes, until the carrots are softened. Pour in the tomatoes and bring to a fast simmer, then turn it down to a steady simmer, stirring occasionally. If you have the time simmer this sauce for about an hour. Taste the sauce and add a little honey, salt and pepper to balance the flavours, if needed. Allow the sauce to cool a bit before whizzing until smooth with a stick blender.

While the sauce is simmering, steam the cubed butternut squash for 15 minutes, or until quite soft. Mash the squash roughly and set aside. Save some of the steaming water too.

Next, gently sauté the remaining leeks in a tsp of olive oil with the garlic and thyme until softened. Mix the cooked leeks into the mashed squash. Stir in a splash of the saved water to make a loose ‘sauce’.

Onto the spinach filling. Now, you have a choice with the cottage cheese. I whiz it with my hand blender but you can leave it ‘curdy’. Kids eating this may object to the latter so I recommend whizzing or using ricotta. Combine the chopped spinach, cottage cheese/ricotta, lemon zest, nutmeg, vegetable stock powder and toasted pine nuts in a medium bowl and set aside. Almost oven time!

For assembling, spread a thin layer of tomato sauce in a 30cm x 20 cm pan that is at least 7 cm deep, then add a layer of pasta sheets. Spread the butternut squash mix over this layer, before adding another pasta layer. Dot the spinach mixture over the pasta, spreading to cover. Add another layer of pasta sheets and pour over enough tomato sauce to completely cover the top. Sprinkle on the grated cheese or lay on sliced mozzarella, and top with olives, if using.

Cover the dish lightly with foil (spray the foil with oil spray if the cheese might touch the foil) before baking at 180C/350F for about 30 minutes. Uncover the lasagne and bake for a further 15 minutes, or until the sides are bubbling and the cheese is starting to brown. Allow to stand for ten minutes before cutting.

*Roasted Pumpkin Seeds: Rub the seeds away from any orange membrane and place in a small roasting dish with a pinch of paprika or black pepper. Roast in the oven for the last ten minutes of the lasagne’s cooking time, or until a few seeds pop. Cool the seeds for a couple of minutes and then use as a garnish on your side salad. Delicious bonus ingredient.

Make it vegan: replace the cottage cheese with organic silken/soft tofu and, of course, no cheese on top.

More calories: use more oil for the sauce and sautéed leeks – not more than 2 tablespoons total for each. Perhaps instead of steaming them toss the butternut squash cubes in some plain olive oil or rapeseed oil and roast– about 25 minutes at 180C. This makes the squash sweeter, too.

Soft food diet: Take out the pine nuts, or grind them finely (they have good fats in them) and mix in with the spinach.

Serves 8

Sage and Walnut Cauliflower Cheese

kellieanderson — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 16:20:32 +0000

We’re nearly there. The end of seemingly endless January. And it’s not been too awful, considering. Normally January is a clone of December, minus the parties, food, presents, fun. But, at least here in the UK, it’s not been too bad. Not bad at all: no snow to speak of, glorious crisp light, mild verging-on-balmy temperatures, and a gradual lengthening of day that is apparent to all but the most dreary of people.

Yesterday I overheard a gaggle of older ladies moaning about the dark days and the “bitter, bitter cold”. I felt like reminding them that we have almost 2 hours more light than on Christmas Day, and that 10 C is pretty darn warm for the time of year. We actually have colder summer days. It is very possible that these women are the same ones I hear complaining loudly about the July heat, while wearing tweed coats and hats. If you live in Edinburgh, you know what I’m talking about!

Other than the instant balm of a cheering cup of tea, one thing that might brighten these ladies up is a nice plate of cauliflower cheese.
But perhaps not as I’ve done it. They might not approve of the unorthodox method, nor the perky topping. And that’s fine. There is nothing wrong with a plate of traditional cauliflower cheese. Except that I don’t really like it all that much. Well, I like a few bites of it and then want something with a bit more dimension, whether in texture or taste. I have confessed to being a bit of a sensationalist, preferring layers of flavour rather than something one-note, however nice. Cauliflower cheese falls into the latter category. I know, I know, it’s got nutrition superstar cauliflower in it. As the main ingredient. But still, all that cheese, butter and blah colour doesn’t exactly inspire or excite. Basically, despite eating cauliflower perhaps twice a week, sometimes more, I rarely make cauliflower cheese. Even though when I do it’s always this cheats’ method, so at least it’s not just a vehicle for saturated fat. But I recently had a brainwave of sorts. Not like one that, say, Stephen Hawkings or Archimedes would have. That really would be something. Rather, that mixing together calmative sage and heart-healthy walnuts might be nice. And it really is. So much so that the test batch was wolfed down by my family before I could take enough photos. Always the sign of a decent recipe in my house.

heart-healthy walnuts: eat the papery skins too!

Of course if you are vegan this particular recipe won’t be suitable. But Angela over at Vegangela has some scrummy looking cauliflower recipes, whether or not you do dairy. One of my favourite side-dishy ways with cauliflower is to toss florets and stem in a little plain olive oil and sprinkle with my beloved za’atar, chillies, turmeric, or even just a scatter of sea salt, then roast at 180C, for about 15 minutes, until tinged with brown and gold. Unlike with the dreaded, stinky boiling, roasting takes away the slight bitterness that some folk hate, leaving a subtle almost nutty flavour. Sometimes I squeeze over a little lemon or chuck on a tablespoon or two of Parmesan cheese as it comes out of the oven. Truly delish and oh so simple. This recipe is simple too. Like the pleasures of seeing the first crocuses noseing through the frozen earth. If only some people would notice.

Sage and Walnut-Topped Cauliflower Cheese

The scant but culinarily effective duo of fresh sage and walnut elevates cauliflower cheese from ho hum to hip hooray. I might exaggerate a tad, but if I were the type to throw dinner parties, I would not be ashamed to include a great spoonful of this on each plate. It makes a quick light meal on its own with a crisp salad, or something more substantial when paired with lemony grilled fish and roasted vine tomatoes. You could even mix it into cooked pasta. And don’t worry about the missing butter and flour, the crème fraiche and hard cheese ‘magically’ create the perfect sauce. A little less fat and no gluten – no bad thing.

1 medium-large cauliflower (700-800g prepared weight), cut into florets and core sliced up too (it is just as tasty, if not more so)

4 heaped tablespoons half-fat crème fraiche (or full-fat if you need to)

100g freshly grated mature/sharp cheese such as Cheddar, Manchego, Gruyere or Red Leicester (plus 4 tablespoons for finishing the dish). Use lower-fat cheese if you like but perhaps add more mustard to make up for the non taste.

¼ tsp ground turmeric

2 tsp wholegrain mustard

a good pinch of freshly ground pepper

50g walnuts, coarsely chopped

1 heaped tbsp chopped fresh sage

Steam the cauliflower pieces for about 10 minutes – longer if you need your food to be quite soft.

While the cauliflower is cooking put the crème fraiche in a medium saucepan over a low heat and let it ‘melt’ a bit before stirring in the cheese, turmeric, mustard and pepper. Whisk or stir the developing sauce as it thickens – no flour required! Taste it for seasoning and adjust if needed. You may want more mustard, for example. In a small bowl, stir together the sage and extra cheese.

Put the cooked cauliflower in a suitable gratin-type dish and pour over the cheese sauce. Sprinkle on the walnut pieces and top with the sage and cheese. Pop the dish under a medium hot grill until the sauce bubbles and the walnuts are browned a bit – one to two minutes. Serve immediately. I’ve topped the dish with crumbled olive oil-fried sage leaves for extra crunch.

Serving for one: use a small cauliflower, or even 200g cooked from frozen, and half the sauce.

Leftovers? Use the leftovers as the basis of a quick soup, whizzed into hot vegetable stock and heated through. Delicious!

Soft food diet? Whiz up the walnuts until a suitable texture for you, before adding in the sage for another second or two. Cook the cauliflower to your liking and roughly mash if required.

Curried Pea Hand-Pies

kellieanderson — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 22:05:18 +0000

Recently, on a particularly dreary day, I found myself flicking wistfully through the travel section of a broadsheet newspaper. As I sat on the sofa, slumped in my none-too-glam trackie bottoms and fleece-lined Crocs I tortured myself with page after page of unobtainable ‘bourgeois’ – which I believe is Russian for ‘jealous-making’ – holiday destinations. I ogled double-page spread after double-page spread of nut-brown bodies frolicking on pristine, deserted beaches, drooled over photos of towel-clad bodies being pummeled by tiny ladies with big muscles, and scanned ads promising, variously, views of the Northern lights, ‘big game’ and Alpine meadows in bloom. All while sitting listening to hail zing off the roof. And contemplating the wind shredding more twigs and branches from our scarily-close oak tree.

Well wouldn’t you know, all of this holiday lusting and tree-paranoia made me hungry.
For some inexplicable reason I hazily remembered the tiny two-bite pea pies from a holiday to Malta some 20+ years ago. Although what I most remember about the trip was the spectacular – and touchable – archeology of the place, and swimming in a deserted cove as the sun set before us, I also vividly remember being intrigued by the locals lining up outside the storefront pastizzi shops that face out onto the choppy sea. We cannily joined in after glimpsing the tiny but plump pastries glistening in eager Maltese hands. They were truly queue worthy. I think we had them most days that we were there. Looking back I recall the glossy layered pastry, and the pea-ness of them, but little else. So I set about looking up how to make pastizzi on the Internet. As you do.

Most of what I found was either meat based, had homemade puff pastry or an equally faffy, labour-intensive dough, or was non-specific with the ingredients and method. I found one that looks nice and relatively simple (but using dried peas – not quick enough for me), and as it is from a Maltese site I’m sure it is authentic. But while I was thinking about it all, and getting hungrier and hungrier, I got it into my head that I wanted it to be a little bit spicy. But just a little. Like a samosa for the uninitiated. So I had a wee rummage in the cupboards and put this together. I think it works. See what you think.

You can make these dinky pies vegan by leaving out the cream cheese and subbing in soft tofu. Or just use more peas. You could also do this with ultra-light phyllo or brik pastry. But I had puff, so that’s what I used. For the sake of research I did also try it with lower-fat short crust pastry, but it’s not what I was looking for. Nice try, but no cigar. Feel free to try this recipe with lower fat pastry, but be sure to have it with lots of mango or tamarind chutney to keep it from feeling too ‘diet’, Dirty word, that. Either my way or t’other, serve it with chutney for a delicious, if completely un-Maltese, pea pie experience. Enjoy!

Nutrition notes: When thinking about nutrient-rich foods we often ignore the commonplace and inexpensive in favour of the exotic and pricey. But as is often the case, what we want and need is right in front of us. Peas are a case in point. These ‘great balls of fibre’ (I’m mangling Jerry Lee Lewis. Sorry) contain useful nutrients in abundance, including the polyphenol phytoestrogen coumestrol, a phytonutrient that may help lower risk of stomach cancer and possibly estrogen-receptor positive breast cancer. Other phytonutrinets contribute to it being anti-inflammatory and anti-diabetic, and all legumes – of which peas are a major one – have lots of doctor-recommended fibre. Peas are also very low in fat, but the fat they do contain help us use the rather impressive amount of beta-carotene, and small but useful amount of Vitamin E rolled up in this extremely useful denizen of the deep-freeze. Bags of Vitamin K, Vitamin C, manganese, folate and thiamin too. And it’s true what they say, frozen is best. At least for peas. Not for Edinburgh-based Floridians. Brrrrr.

Curried Pea Hand-Pies

Not only does this recipe make a lovely light lunch or snack, it is also a quick, tasty nibble to rustle up for unexpected visitors: who wouldn’t feel welcome with an offer of warm-from-the-oven little pies? Ready-rolled pastry makes it even more of a doddle.

200g/1 heaped cup petit pois or garden peas, frozen

5 spring onions/scallions, sliced

1 tsp olive oil

2 tsp Tandoori masala or garam masala, or to taste (I used Rajah tandoori masala)*

4 heaped tbsp soft cheese/cream cheese (low-fat is fine)**

a good squirt of fresh lemon juice and heaped 1/2 tsp zest

2 sheets of ready rolled puff pastry, or one block of puff pastry rolled to 2 mm (you probably won’t use all of the latter)

Milk, to glaze

Kalonji seeds/nigella seeds, to garnish (optional)

Mango chutney, to serve

Simmer peas until just cooked though (not mushy), drain and run under cool water. Pop this into a food processor.

Gently sauté the spring onions, adding the tandoori masala once the onions are soft – about two minutes. Add the now-spiced onion to the food processor, along with the soft cheese and lemon juice plus zest. Pulse until it is half smooth and half chunky, or keep it all chunky if you like – or don’t have a food processor.

Lay out one of the pastry sheets and cut out circles with your largest scone/biscuit cutter (mine is 7.5 cm/3 in), or use a plastic or metal cup. Lay each round onto a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and top each with a small dollop of pea mix. Fold over the pastry to form a half-moon and pinch to close. Brush on a little milk and sprinkle over kalonji seeds, if using. Do the same with the other puff pastry sheet, then bake the pies in a 200C/400F oven for 12-15 minutes, or until all are puffed and golden. Serve warm with mango chutney.

pea pie archaeology - only the prints remain

*tandoori masala is a highly aromatic, but not hot, dry blend of spices used to coat meat for grilling. It is great mixed with yogurt to coat not only red meat and chicken, but also tofu and vegetables, or mixed with soft cheese as a dip for anything that you like to dip! Most supermarkets will carry a tandoori masala mix. By the way, ‘masala’ comes from the word ‘masalah,’ which is Urdu for ‘ingredients’.

**Vegan option: use soft tofu with perhaps extra lemon and a spoonful of nutritional yeast flakes, if you have them. Or you could just use more peas and onions.

Carrot and Marmalade Cake

kellieanderson — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 18:30:15 +0000

As many of you know, I am originally from Florida. Lived there 24 years in fact. Twenty-four largely sun-soaked, carefree years. But now I call Edinburgh, the beautiful capital of Scotland, home. Although I miss my family and friends, the year-round, bathwater-temperature climate, and the cheap and abundant seafood, I truly love my adopted city. I love the warm, but appropriately cautious people (you would be as cautious if your ancestors endured a similar border-raiding history); the vibrant cultural scene; the handsome nuanced buildings, often in gardens I used to think only existed in movies; and the wealth of nutritious and delicious produce – from brambles to venison. I have even grown to, if not love, at least appreciate the certifiably crazy weather. Florida merely has a climate, punctuated by thunderstorms and the occasional hurricane, but no real weather to speak of – or seasons.

Perhaps, not surprisingly, whenever I meet someone new – a British person – the conversation often goes something like this: “You’re not from around here. Where are you from?” Me: “Florida, but I’ve lived here over 20 years.” Them: “Good God!…Why?” Then I get an opportunity to let said person see this beautiful, green and pleasant land through my eyes. Admittedly it’s rainy, blowy and a bit parky (cold), but if we had great weather everyone would want to live here. I’m sure there would have to be some kind of quota system to visit our tiny loch and mountain-dotted country. I don’t do Florida down, but I like to remind folk of how much we have here. They probably still think I am a bit bonkers though.

But one thing we don’t have here, and that I miss very much, is citrus. Good old Florida citrus: tangelos, grapefruits, minneolas, limes, lemons, pomelos, uglis, tangerines, mandarins, satsumas and even the little, fairly useless kumquat.
When I was younger I didn’t appreciate the mood-boosting sunset hues of the red grapefruit, nor the usefulness of mouth-puckering rough lemons and key limes. I took for granted that I could just pluck the low-hanging fruits from a tree, for free. Now, lemons and limes are a hugely appreciated staple in my kitchen. I use one or the other every single day, sometimes several times a day: fresh squeezed lime in my cold green tea (usually three glasses), fresh lemon juice in a daily salad or two, in marinades, dressings and ceviches, as the acidic perk in creamy sauces or to cut through the healthy oiliness of salmon. I often just squeeze it onto a random meal instead of (or as well as, if I am honest) salt. And of course, in cakes: lemons, limes and oranges, and their zingy zest.

I have previously confessed to not having a tremendous sweet-tooth. If given a choice I would opt for savoury over sweet, mostly. But show me a slice of homemade lemon drizzle cake, extra heavy on the lemon, and I will all but bite your hand off.

Today’s cake is not quite that zingy but nearly so. It is rich with deep-amber marmalade and studded with raisins and seeds, and has minimal oil and sugar to keep it on the right side of healthy. I have waxed lyrical about citrus in last year’s seville marmalade post so will leave it to you to click through to it if you fancy some additional nutrition information. We all know it is filled to bursting with essential Vitamin C, but it also has fairly useful amounts of folate, potassium and good amounts of cholesterol-binding fibre. Of interest to cancer researchers is the phytochemical d-limonene, which has been shown in animal studies to help slow the rate of tumour growth, as well as increase the levels of liver enzymes that detoxify cancer-causing compounds (carcinogens). More cancer-specific information on d-limonene is from mskcc.org in their ‘About Herbs’ section. I use this Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center site a lot in my work, double-checking facts and getting new information on herbs and natural compounds that are used in cancer prevention and cancer treatment.

Other especially-lemony and citrussy recipes on food to glow are lemony courgette and fine bean tagliatelle in herbed creme fraiche, courgette, lemon and elderflower cake, watermelon, lime and green tea soothie, and lemon geranium cake. But really, most of my recipes have some kind of citrus in them. Told you I love citrus!

And, if you can’ get enough of the little orbs of sunshine, check out the other blogs’ participating in #citruslove. Click on any of the little thumbnail images to take you straight to a new recipe. I know I will be trying a few.

Carrot and Marmalade Cake

This is an easy and delicious way of making a sweet treat healthy and packed full of fibre.

100 ml rapeseed oil (not extra-virgin)

2 eggs

150 g dark brown/muscovado sugar

4 heaped tbsp best quality dark marmalade (the nippier the better; here’s mine)

100 g self-raising flour

125 g self-raising wholemeal flour

1 ½ tsp baking powder

200 g carrots, finely grated

1 ripe banana, peeled and mashed

juice of one orange (zest too if your marmalade is quite sweet)

50 g pumpkin seeds

50 g raisins

1 tbsp poppy seeds (optional)

Grease/oilspray a 18 x 28 cm/7 x 11 inch pan (or equivalent) and line on all sides with non-stick baking paper. Preheat the oven to 180 C/350 F.

Vigorously mix together the oil, eggs and sugar until it is thick and leaves a trail when the spoon is lifted. I am a weakling so I defer to the power of my Kitchen-Aid mixer. Sift over the flours and baking powder, then add the remaining ingredients, folding gently. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin; bake for 35 minutes, or a skewer comes out clean when poked in the middle of the cake. Leave to cool in the tin before removing and stripping off the baking paper. This freezes well but will keep for 3-4 days in an airtight tin (keep in a cool place). If you like, heat extra marmalade and pour over the cake for a gorgeous, zingy glaze.

Butternut Squash and Almond Pate with Homemade Pitta Chips

kellieanderson — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 20:28:21 +0000

I want to ask you something a bit personal: are you a snacker? The reason I’m asking is that I am, and I want to know if I am talking to likeminded people. I want reassurance that you are not part of a super breed of disciplined, shiny-haired, perfect, and frankly annoying people who are never hungry between meals. Or worse still (for me), get hungry but ignore and override the tummy rumbles that have lesser folk (that’ll be me) either grabbing whatever’s handy and not actually toxic, or fantasising about inhaling a family-sized packet of crisps/chocolate/yogurt-covered nuts/apples (okay, that last one is not realistic). If you are one of these perfect folk, I envy you. Now go and read my tofu recipes and come back later when I post a main meal. The rest of you Norma(n) Normals, I want to have a brief chat about snacking. Just brief, mind you. I get hungry after a few paragraphs and need to go for a forage in the cupboards.

Perversely we, in our Western, all-you-can-eat society, see snacking as a bad thing, a sign of weakness, a one-way ticket to Obesity Central. We are surrounded by and saturated with messages to eat this snack bar, those chips, that preservative-pumped whatnot, but also told to be slim, have control and take such-and-such drugs to achieve a celebrity body. How bizarre is that?

But snacking is not inherently bad. Sure it has its down sides – as we are all too aware – but really there are more benefits to snacking than detractions. It’s all in the detail. It always is. And rarely does benefit come in a plastic wrapper with a 2014 use-by date attached.

In the interests of balance, there are a few reasons why snacking can be mad, bad and dangerous to do. Snacking can mean extra, unaccounted for calories. This even goes for hummous dip, organic dark chocolate and home-dried apple crisps, things we think of as having haloes. These are good foods to have in a healthy diet but we need to factor them into our daily calorie/energy needs. It is all too easy to see snacks as not really counting: it’s only one biscuit, it’s just a piece of toast.

Closely linked to the above, eating unhealthy snacks on a regular basis– things from wrappers mainly – inevitably causes weight gain. If we aren’t careful, that innocuous daily packet of ‘lite’ crisps can lead to a waist-spreading 15 lbs in weight-gain over a year, and new wardrobe. Ouch. Here’s an eye-opening look at 10 ‘healthy’ snacks that aren’t all what they seem. Did you know that banana chips have as much fat as potato chips?

Snacking when you are so hungry that others think they hear thunder in the distance is not good. Your body is programmed in this situation to grab and eat anything that is high in energy (calories) to get it back on track. Okay in the short term – just – but as a long-term coping strategy, no way. Think and plan ahead: don’t let yourself get that hungry (how miserable for you and your friends/colleagues), but also keep healthy snacks to hand for when you start to get peckish. We cannot make reasoned, healthy choices when super hungry. Fact.

Distracted eating makes for weight gain. Watching television is the big culprit here. We all know it is easy to miss the cues of over-eating when distracted by who’s doing what to whom on our soap. If you want to snack in front of the gogglebox keep things like cherry tomatoes, apples, air-popped popcorn in your graze-line, and stuff like Quality Street safely tucked out of sight. But really it’s better to be a ‘conscious eater’, aware of every bite that goes in to your mouth, how it feels and tastes. This is a much more satisfying way to eat, and because it automatically slows us down, we are less likely to overeat, whether its chocolate or carrots. In a future post I will talk a bit more about mindful eating. Right now I need to practise more of what I preach…

So, to the benefits of eating healthy, blood sugar-balancing snacks.

It can help get you closer to your five-a-day. Apples, bananas, plums, grapes, baby carrots, pepper strips – all are great snacks and very portable with little if any prep, as good snacks should be. Have a handful of nuts – like unsalted almonds – for satisfying protein. Look at my page on healthy snacks, and also at this great piece from fitsugar (they tout kale chips, so here’s my recipe - the second one).

kale chips - a super healthy snack

Being hungry is a real mood downer, but having something in your tum, especially something long-lasting with fibre, a little protein and fat, positively boosts mood. This is because it helps keep the all-important blood sugar levels on an even keel. Low blood sugar equals bad mood and poor food choices.

Healthy snacks, again long-lasting, sugar-balancing ones, really can help with appetite and weight control in the long run. Most sensible diet plans actively encourage modest snacking to keep blood sugar levels balanced and lessen the risk of ‘cheating’.

Healthy snacks can also help us keep more mentally alert, especially during the near-universal afternoon slump. Although we often reach for a coffee and a biscuit for a quick lift, something like a glass of skimmed milk and a pot of grapes and an oatcake or whole-wheat cracker might be better in the long run – caffeine and sugar vs a bit of protein and complex carbohydrates. It’s really no contest. The biscuit and coffee option is okay occasionally but I bet you’ll find (or already know) that having protein and starchy carbohydrates is a winning combination for energy and weight management.

What are your favourite healthy snacks? What are your best ways of beating the afternoon slump? We all have little strategies to get us from one meal to the next without demolishing the cookie jar, and I would love it if you shared them. Please feel free to comment, and maybe share your own ideas and stories. Healthy snacks for kids and teens especially welcome!

Butternut Squash and Almond Pate with Homemade Pitta Chips

I usually make this when I am baking butternut squash for another dish – a bit of a tasty by-product recipe. If I am using a recipe calling for a medium butternut squash or maybe only 400-500 grams of it, I like to buy a larger squash and use the extra to make up this really quite nice pate. Believe it or not it makes a yummy after-school snack if you don’t tell the kids that it’s good for them. Serve with wholegrain crackers, oat cakes, baked tortilla chips, cut up vegetables, homemade pitta chips (pictured), or rice cakes. It also makes a nice filling for rolls, or in little croustade cases for appetizers. The recipe below gives instruction on roasting the squash but use leftover roasted squash or even steamed cubes (although the roasting intensifies the gorgeous flavour) if you like.

½ medium butternut squash

4 sprigs of fresh thyme OR ½ tsp dried thyme

1 long sprig of fresh rosemary OR 5g dried rosemary leaves

4 cloves unpeeled garlic OR 1/8 tsp garlic powder (the garlic mellows dramatically with baking)

1 tbsp olive oil

¼ tsp smoked paprika – optional

squeeze of fresh lemon

50g fresh almonds or ready-ground

Wash and halve the butternut squash, scoop out the seeds and put the garlic, 3 sprigs of thyme and half of the rosemary in the seed cavity (don’t bother doing this with the dried herbs). Drizzle over the oil, place the squash cut-side down on a baking tray and bake at 180C/350F, until softened – about 40-45 minutes. The skin will wrinkle and darken in patches, and will feel soft and yield when squeezed. Leave to cool a bit before carefully turning over and removing the garlic and herbs.

Now scoop out the tender, saffron-coloured flesh and pop this into a bowl. Slip the garlic out of the skins and add to the bowl. At this point I like to strip the leaves from the remaining thyme and chop the tender rosemary leaves.

Because I like the pate a bit chunky I don’t blend everything all in a one go, but you of course can make it smooth as butter (and what a great sub it is for butter on bread!), especially if it might increase the likelihood that children might try it. What I like to do is to put the almonds into the food processor and grind them down until they are sand-textured, followed by the herbs and paprika, and only then do I add the butternut squash and lemon. Pulse this until it is the texture you desire. If you can, let the pate sit for at least half an hour to allow the flavours to blend and the mixture to firm up.

This handy little pate can be flavoured how you like – whatever spices and herbs that you fancy or have to hand. The only thing to remember is that the butternut squash is quite sweet so some type of balancing acidity from lemon or vinegar is probably necessary.

Serve with pitta chips made by splitting a few wholemeal pittas at their seams, tearing into bite-sized pieces and baking on a tray at 180C/350F for about 10 minutes, or until they are no longer bendy. The chips will keep hardening as they cool. If you like, slick some olive oil over the pitta pieces and sprinkle with spices or seeds before baking. So much nicer and healthier than the pitta chips you get at the supermarket. And as an extra snack – a Vitamin E packed beezer of a snack – rinse and dry the squash seeds , rub on a teeny amount of oil and sprinkle over some seasoning. Bake in a moderate oven until you hear one seed pop. Allow to cool for a fraction of a second before huddling around the tray with some fellow hungry folk and scooping the little hot and tasty seeds into your mouth. ‘Free’ and fantastic.

bonus snack - but mind the sneaky calories

Tamarind and Shiitake Tofu with Sesame ‘Seaweed’

kellieanderson — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 14:04:31 +0000

I hadn’t meant to hit you with tofu straight after the excesses of Christmas. Truly. It smacks of detox and diet, and other depressing ‘d’ words. If you know me, or read me regularly, you’ll know that’s not what I’m about. I’d rather rub chillies in my eyes, or grate my knuckles on a Microplane ® grater than go on a diet. And as for detox, that’s what our livers are for; we don’t need to go on juice fasts, just stop eating rubbish and drinking alcohol (I know, easier said than done). But also if you know me you’ll know that I love tofu. Or rather, I love what you can do with tofu. Bland beyond belief on its own, I grant you, but when even briefly introduced to things with flavour – I’m thinking miso, soy, chillies, citrus, garlic – it transforms from a simpering slab of blah to a delightful dish of mmm. Perhaps I’m overselling the old beancurd, but I really think this simple, straightforward recipe may change your mind.

I actually came up with this recipe ages ago, probably influenced by some long forgotten recipe, or photo torn from a magazine. I remember, when I first made it, the Cinderella-like makeover from pale tasteless cubes to mouth-watering umami silky softness (although back then no-one but the Japanese knew about umami). But for some reason I rarely make it now, preferring to try and develop tricksy and cunning recipes to convince tofu-haters of the folly of their ways. Well, this is neither of those. But it is particularly delicious – and very simple to make. Now that I’ve rediscovered this recipe, I will be making it much more often. Especially because once you have all the ingredients out, it takes all of 10 minutes to prepare.

I have blathered on in previous posts about the nutritional virtues of tofu, so if you want the detail of what it is and why it’s good for most of us, see one of my very first posts – Tofu and Aubergine Lime-Basil Stir Fry. The photos are well-dodgy, but the recipe and information are sound. If you can’t be bothered to wade through that post, I can tell you briefly that tofu is cooked and pressed soy beans, made up into little pale blocks. Sounds yummy so far, I’m sure. In those little blocks, which you can find in long-life UHT cartons (these may be the most tasteless), in open containers of brine at Chinese markets (not keen on the germ potential) and in refrigerated packs (favoured option), is one of only two plant-based complete proteins. That should be enough to have most vegetarians hooked, but it is also low GI/GL, low-fat, cholesterol-free, a good source of iron, magnesium and some B vitamins, and a terrific source of calcium, owing to the way in which it is made. It may also help with menopausal symptoms, and reduce the risk of colon and prostate cancer. I mostly use tofu in its unadorned form because I like to flavour it myself, but you can get all manner of titivations – bbq, marinated, smoked, herby, etc – just watch out for too much added fat and salt.

Back to the recipe. If tamarind paste is a bit tricky to come by, head to your closest Asian grocer. There you will either get a nice big tub of paste for the price of a dinky one at a supermarket, or – what I have – get a bag of squashy, black tamarind pods to soak in water, squidge between your fingers and push through a sieve. The latter does sound a faff, but it’s weirdly pleasing (yes, I’m easily pleased) and no added ingredients. Both the paste and pods keep for a long time. Oh, and if you think you have never had tamarind, think again: it’s a main flavouring in Worcestershire and HP sauces.

tamarind pods for mashing

making tamarind paste is messy business - buy it pre-made!

And as for the shiitake, fresh shiitake are commonly available but dried shiitake are fine when re-hydrated (various makes available; I use Merchant Gourmet). Although you can really taste the ‘shiitake-ness’ in this recipe, try chestnut mushrooms if you fancy this recipe but can’t immediately find the shiitake. But, please try it with earthy, chewy shiitake if possible.

Tamarind and Shiitake Tofu with Sesame ‘Seaweed’

You could make this with chicken breast pieces but it is a super way to give flavour to plain tofu. And it is quick too. Serve with baked brown basmati rice or buckwheat noodles, and steamed pak choi or broccoli.

350-400g firm tofu – squeezed between paper towels, halved horizontally then cubed

oil spray or rapeseed oil

2 rounded tbsp tamarind paste (find in large supermarkets with oriental ingredients or in Asian stores)

¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper

1 ½ tbsp dark muscovado sugar (or any sugar you have)

150 ml organic chicken or vegetable stock

2 tbsp soy sauce (shoyu for preference)

150g shiitake mushrooms, sliced (or one handful of dried shiitake, rehydrated as directed, plus a box of chestnut/brown mushrooms)

1 medium carrot, cut into matchsticks

a sprinkle of chilli flakes (entirely optional)

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F. Spray a baking tray with the oilspray or slick with a little oil; add the cubed tofu. Bake the tofu for about 15 minutes, or until the tofu starts to turn golden but still has plenty of ‘springiness’ when prodded gently. Remove from oven.

In a medium saucepan or wok heat the tamarind paste, pepper, sugar, stock and soy sauce. Let the sauce bubble up and thicken for 2-3 minutes. When the sugar has dissolved, add the baked tofu, mushrooms and carrots and simmer for 2-3 minutes. Serve over rice or buckwheat noodles and sprinkle with sesame seeds or the sesame ‘seaweed’ (see below).

buckwheat noodles - gorgeous and gluten-free

Sesame ‘Seaweed’: Take 4 large leaves of kale (cavolo nero for preference) and rub with a small amount of oil. Remove the ribs from each, stack and cut the leaves into thirds, then take these thirds and slice thinly into matchsticks. Pop these onto a baking tray, sprinkle lightly with sesame seeds, and bake at 180C/350F for 5-6 minutes. Watch the shreds like a hawk as, depending on the type of kale, it may bake more or less quickly. I do this while the tofu is baking.

More calories: Gently sauté the tofu cubes sand shiitake mushrooms in 2 tablespoons of rapeseed oil.

Nutrition notes: The undisputed star of this dish from a cancer point of view is the mushroom. Shiitake mushrooms contain a fantastic compound called lentinan. This compound is used as a licensed cancer-fighting drug in Japan because of its ability to stimulate the immune system and ‘turn off’ cancer cells. Lentinan also triggers the production of powerful anti-viral, interferon. Use shiitake mushrooms in omelettes, stir-fries, casseroles, stews and risottos.

Serves 3-4 (although no harm in two people sharing!)

Hoppin’ John for New Year’s Day Luck Southern-style

kellieanderson — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 16:25:57 +0000

“Eat poor on New Year’s, and eat fat the rest of the year” Anonymous Southern saying.

New Year’s Day, rather than raucous New Year’s Eve, is a watershed time for many of us. A time to reflect on the year just gone – the disasters, the triumphs, the just-skating-by moments. And a time to plan and dream about the year that shimmers mirage-like, within touching distance, before us. That dream holiday to the Far East, a six-figure book deal, finding ‘the one’, keeping ourselves and family clothed, fed and healthy for another year – whatever dreams and goals that keep you going. The New Year is a clean-slate, big old do-over, the calendar equivalent of moving to a new school, or upping sticks to a new country. It’s our chance to do things differently, to not carry on bumping along on the same grooved and worn path. Or, to carry on towards established goals, but with renewed vigour and lust for life.

Although I am a person who believes we make our own luck, I also believe that we can help things along a bit, too. That’s where this dish comes in. For those of you who are from, or are familiar with, the Southern United States, Hoppin’ John needs no introduction. But for the rest of you, Hoppin’ John is eaten on New Year’s Day as a way of increasing luck and good fortune in the coming year. The black eyed peas of this dish are said to resemble coins that swell when cooked – equated with increasing fortune. Collard greens and cornbread, with extra corn added, are traditional good fortune accompaniments, representing additional financial benefit: ‘peas for pennies, greens for dollars, and cornbread for gold.’ Not really to my taste, but hog jowls, or slab bacon, are an ultra-trad ingredient, pigs being a European, North American and Cuban symbol of progress. Apparently it’s the rooting itself to the ground before it pushes itself forward that makes pigs so lucky. Oh the irony.

Many cultures have good luck foods and dishes, whether eaten at New Year’s, on a baby’s birth, or for marriage. And interestingly, for all the vastly differing food preferences and traditions on a day-to-day basis, when luck comes into it, there are striking similarities. An interesting article over at Epicurious notes that grapes, greens, fish, pork, legumes and cake are considered ‘auspicious foods’ the world over. Fish is perhaps the most logical choice for a lucky food as its nutrition and goodness can be preserved by pickling or dry-salting, and eaten during times – and in places – where fresh protein sources may be scarce.

Like many food traditions that developed before most people could read and write, the origin of the name Hoppin’ John is unclear. It could be, according to Wikipedia, “a corruption of the Haitian Creole term for black-eyed peas: pois pigeons.” What is certain is that the ingredients are a variant on West African rice and peas, most probably adapted by African slaves who worked the rice fields in the southern states of the US, specifically the Carolinas. It is also remarkably similar to the Cuban version, known colloquially as ‘Hoppin’ Juan’, and to the Portuguese, Feijoada – both places historically associated with slavery or for ‘providing’ slaves. Here’s a really interesting article on global food traditions that features Hoppin’ John.

Even if, like me, you don’t really believe in luck per se, I do like the idea of food traditions, especially ones that are healthy, like this version of Hoppin’ John. I have made it without any added fat, but if you need to keep weight on do feel free to saute the vegetables in olive oil, or add some in when serving. And, if the idea of a hog jowls appeals, here’s an Emeril Lagasse recipe to help. Whatever you eat on New Year’s Day, I hope it nourishes you and sets you up for a healthy, happy and prosperous 2012.

Hoppin’ John

This is a meat-free version of a traditional New Year’s Day ‘good luck’ dish from the southern states of America. You can use tinned beans but the tiny raw beans cook well from scratch. For more guidance on bean cooking, here is a reassuring article from What’s Cooking America.

½ kg black eyed peas/beans, washed and picked over

1500 ml water

Bouquet garni (bought or homemade from celery stick, 2 bay leaves and thyme stalks) – optional

125g chopped leeks or onions (about one large onion)

150g chopped celery (about 3 stalks)

1 green pepper, diced

3 cloves garlic, minced

Vegetable stock powder

Spring onions/scallions, to garnish

Steamed or boiled white or brown rice, to serve

Hot sauce, to serve

And either make up the creole spice blend (below) and use 2 tablespoons of it, or use the following:

¼-½ tsp hot paprika or cayenne pepper

¼ tsp smoked paprika or dash of Liquid Smoke (to sub for the hog jowl!)

1 tsp each dried thyme and oregano

Creole Spice Blend (adapted from Emeril Lagasse)

2 ½ tbsp paprika

2 tbsp vegetable stock powder OR salt

2 tbsp garlic powder

1 tbsp white pepper

2 tsp hot paprika OR cayenne pepper

1 tbsp each dried thyme and dried oregano

1 tsp celery seeds

Bring water to the boil and place in a pressure cooker with the washed dried peas – you want it to be at least double the volume of peas. Lock the lid and leave for 1 hour. Drain and thoroughly rinse the peas. Put the fast-soaked peas in a large, deep pot with the 1500 ml of water and the bouquet garni (if using), bring to the boil, then simmer gently for 20 minutes. Add in your stock powder’s recommended amount for 1.5 litres (Marigold Swiss Vegetable Bouillon is 4 tsp per 500 ml of water), along with the vegetables and spices. Continue simmering for 20 minutes, until the vegetables are cooked. If at any point it looks like the liquid needs topping up, do so, but it should be plenty ‘soupy’. The reason I don’t add the stock powder at the initial simmering stage is that the salt can make the beans hard.

Serve over rice, topped with sliced spring onions and spiked with hot sauce if you like. It is traditional to have this dish with well-cooked collard greens and cornbread, but it is hearty enough without it. If you want the greens, kale makes a good alternative to the hard-to-get collards.

bouquet garni tied with a strip of leek