The Greasy Spoon | Food & Culture

Bombay Mix

 

 

It's crunchy. It's spicy. It's horribly addictive. It's laced, I suspect, with our old friend, Mr Monosodium Glutamate. It comes in those little bags from the local corner shop. It's Bombay Mix. The Queen's a fan. Apparently she draws lines in felt-tip across her porcelain snack bowls. She discovered that quantities of the stuff were mysteriously vanishing. The Royal Protection Squad were the main suspects.

I've currently got a 'thing' about Bombay Mix too, finding it works beautifully for some reason, with a decent Gin & Tonic (Portobello Gin mixed properly, Fever Tree tonic, ice cubes and a wedge of lime). The rather appealing Bombay Mix in the picture above comes from the admirably named Ludlow Nut Company.

Mrs Aitch asked me what was in it. I'm ashamed to admit I couldn't tell her straight off. Nuts? Noodles? Raisins? I wasn't even sure if it was genuinely Indian either. Could it be one of those strange Anglo-Indian concotions conjured up in the 1970's? 

Actually it is Indian (chiwda, chevdo, bhuso, chevda (चिवडा) or chivdo (चिवडो), Chanāchura, chanachur (চানাচুর) and chuda) a traditional snack which is enjoyed by millions right across the globe. Ingredients can include: peanuts, fried lentils, chickpeas, flaked rice, fried onion, noodles and curry leaves, flavoured with salt, pepper, coriander and mustard seed.

There are various recipes out there on the net. Every Indian family has their favourite mix, there doesn't seem to be any major rules. I like Ms Marmite Lover's version, which includes aromatic fennel, green chilis, sunflower seeds, red lentils and almonds.

 

Courtesans, Company Style, Northern India, 1800-1825.

 

Rook Pie

 

 

 

I'm back. And itching to write about all things rook. Yup, the good old Corvus frugilegus. I've always had a thing about that very particular sound rooks make; it's very English: a croaking, cawing noise so typical of a raw morning in February or March. Thinking about it, it's up there with other comforting sounds: the peal of church bells on a Sunday morning, the thwack of a tennis racket on a hot June day, children playing on an echoing tarmac ground, the buzz of a light aircraft on a lazy Saturday afternoon, the distinctive grumble of a London Taxi on a wet, foggy evening in November.

In English folklore, rooks build their nests- the rookery- near places where money is to be found, which is why I am very keen indeed for Mr and Mrs Rook to come and build their nest in the tiny back garden of our London hovel.

Did you know that the glorious 12th of May is traditionally, rook shooting day? According to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's River Cottage Cookbook: 

In Victorian times, this used to be considered a suitable sport for boys and young ladies, who would traditionally gather on 12th May, with their specially made rook rifles, for a little genteel sport.

 

 

Shades of Gormenghast. Now my wife, Mrs Aitch, claims to have been fed Rook Pie on a regular basis as a child by her grandmother's cook. Does this fill you with horror? Four and Twenty Black Birds, baked in the Pie? No reason why it should, as I gather that the breast of young rooks ("the branchers") tastes very similar- if not better- than pigeon, and, apparently, has a "delicate gamey flavour". Mr Conran, if rumours are to be believed, has even put it on the menu at one of his "fashionable London restaurants". 

Here's Mrs Beeton's recipe for Rook Pie, taken from the 1936 edition:

6 young rooks

¾ lb. of rump steak

¼ lb. of butter or good dripping

½ pint of stock

salt and pepper

pastry

Skin the birds, without plucking them by cutting the skin near the thighs, and drawing it over the body and head. Draw the birds in the usual manner, remove the necks and backs, and split the birds down the breast. Arrange them in a deep pie dish, cover each breast with strips of steak, season well with salt and pepper, intersperse small pieces of stock as will three-quarter fill the dish.

Cover with pastry and bake from ½ to 2 hours, for the first ½ hour in a hot oven to make the pastry rise, and afterwards more slowly to allow the birds, etc., to become thoroughly cooked.

When the pie is three-quarters baked, brush it over with yolk of egg to glaze the crust, and before serving, pour in throught the hold on the top, the remainder of the stock.

Time- To bake, from 1½ to 2 hours. Sufficient for 5 or 6 people.

 

Jack Kennedy's New England Fish Chowder

 

 

The John F Kennedy Archives recently released a recipe for JFK's favourite fish chowder. It's a rather touching story. In 1961 a disabled girl called Lynn Jennings wrote to the President asking 'what he liked to eat'. The president's special assistant wrote back, thanking Lynn for her 'nice letter' and enclosing the typed out recipe (below) and a photograph of the president. Kennedy, apparently, was terribly greedy and liked to wolf down this chowder in enormous quantities.

 

 

NEW ENGLAND FISH CHOWDER

 

2 pounds haddock                    

2 ounces salt pork, diced

2 onions, sliced

4 large potatoes, diced

1 cup chopped celery

1 bay leaf, crumbled

1 quart milk

2 tablespoons butter

1 teaspoon salt

Freshly ground black pepper

 

Simmer haddock in 2 cups water for 15 minutes. Drain. Reserve broth. Remove bones from fish. Saute diced pork until crisp, remove and set aside. Saute onions in pork fat until golden brown. Add fish, potatoes, celery, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Pour in fish broth plus enough boiling water to make 3 cups of liquid. Simmer for 30 minutes. Add milk and butter and simmer for 5 minutes. Serve chowder sprinked with pork dice. Serves 6. 

 

 

 

 

I like the way Jackie's reading a pristine copy of "Portrait of a President" in the famous LIFE photograph below. Nothing like a subtle plug, is there?

 

 

 

 

Butter Beans with Bacon, Chili and Red Pepper

 

 

 

Here's another simple after-work supper thing  I invented last night. I'll say it myself, this was utterly delicious and I would make it again without hesitation. It's vaguely Southern in influence- but more about that in another post.

Chop up a handful of shallots and sweat them in butter and oil. Next, add chopped up bacon bits. I'm currently rather keen on the slightly tacky American bacon, Oscar Mayer, produced by that sinister corporation, Kraft- it's the sort of bacon you get in diners. I'm sure it's been chemically dried, cured, or treated in some way, as it's guaranteed to go crispy every time you can cook it. You can almost eat it raw too, a bit like cured ham.

Add some finely diced red peppers and a minced red chili or two to the mix. Next, drain a tin of butter beans and add to the pan. If you can be bothered to cook fresh butter beans before hand, so much the better- but I do find that tinned (and pre-cooked) beans and pulses are really almost as good as the dried version, if not, to be frank, the same. Isn't it a case of the Emperor's New Clothes here?

Add a nugget of butter, warm through, and set aside. Make a simple dressing: a teaspoon of white sugar, a splash of sherry or white wine vinegar and lots of lovely groundnut oil, sea salt and white pepper. Spoon the dressing over the bean mixture and garnish with finely chopped spring onions and flat-leafed parsley.

Check the seasoning. I sprinkled over a teaspoon of my latest discovery; a dried sweet smoked paprika, thyme and garlic mix which you can buy in small plastic tubs from the dreaded Sainsbury's. These flavours work brilliantly together. Another thing I can eat raw, in Neanderthal fashion straight from the container; it's finger lickin' divine.

I thought this dish was especially good. The sweetness of the red peppers, dressing and chili contrast nicely with the buttery beans and the crunchy, raw, but finely chopped spring onions and the salty, smoky bacon. You could, of course, serve it cold, but I think your guests might prefer it if it was gently warmed through.

 

Prawn and Leek Rice Salad with Fennel

 

 

In the spirit of creativity and experimention, I've come up with this idea for a simple, but I hope, delicious rice salad. It would be briliant for a summer buffet, or served as a side dish. I know it's not exactly summer yet- or even really spring: as I write I'm looking out on to a cold, wet and miserable London Saturday morning.

I was playing around with flavour combinations the other day, and discovered that prawn and leeks make an excellent match when combined with the aniseedy tastes of fennel. Here's how to make it:

Chop up some leeks (giviing them a rinse and removing the tougher outer skin bits first) and sweat them gently in a saucepan with some butter. It's probably going to work best if the leeks are chopped up into small pieces. I also find that leeks go brown very quickly, so you need to watch these like a hawk. Try and keep that lovely, fresh verdant green colour. You could of course parboil the leeks first (plunging them very quickly into boiling water and rinsing off under a freezing cold tap) which should help to set the colour. 

Into the hot pan goes some fennel seeds and then some good quality prawns. I used smallish frozen prawns, which, of course, are pre-cooked, so just need heating through after they have been defrosted. Check the seasoning and add sea salt and black pepper. Set to one side.

Boil rice in the usual way. I used Uncle Ben's Long Grain rice, which has had the starch removed, and won't go mushy. This is a good thing. Combine the rinsed rice with the leeks, prawn and fennel seeds. Mix in a simple vinagrette (a third olive oil, groundnut oil, a splash of wine or cider vinegar or lemon juice could be just the ticket) and serve cold. A garnish ('orrible word!) of chopped dill would work well with the fish and fennel.

 

 

Saturday Lunch Toad in the Hole (with Onion Gravy)

 

 

 

For some weird reason, I always think that the British classic, Toad in the Hole, is perfect for a Saturday Lunch. Not Sunday or Monday, or even Thursday for that matter. Saturday. I can't exactly explain why, there's probably a regressive, childhood thing going on there. Toad in the Hole is easy to make. It's filling. It's cheap. It's also delicious. This is Comfort Food at its best.

If you happen to be American, you are probably now wondering how on earth us Brits can eat one of those slimey, knobbly creatures? Sort of less appealing then a French grenouille, I hear you cry. But as much as I am curious to sample one of those tantalising little critters, the 'toad' is, in all probability, English slang for sausage. It's a bit like Welsh Rabbit (which ain't a rabbit), or Scotch Woodcock (which ain't a woodcock, either).

Back to the Toad: Heat your oven to 220C (425F). Get hold of some decent, fat, organic sausages and chuck them into a roasting tin with a few knobs of lard. You could have fun experimenting with different types of sausage. The better your sausage, the better your Toad in the Hole will taste. Cook the sausages in the oven for about ten minutes. My latest sausage discovery has been Sainsbury's Taste the Difference British Pork & Caramelised Red Onion Sausages. These are utterly delicious! Sweet, juicy, slightly spicy, lots of lovely caramelised flavours going on in there.

Meanwhile, mix up the batter. Sieve 4oz (110g) of self raising flour into a bowl, and add a pinch of salt and some pepper. Make a hole or a "well" in the centre of the flour, and pour in 5 fluid oz (150ml) of semi-skimmed milk into the hole. Crack in an egg, too. Mix the flour, milk, and egg up very gradually with a wooden spoon.  Beat well, and then add the same amount of milk, again. Pour the finished batter over the sausages, and cook them in the oven for a further 45 minutes or so, until the Toad is risen and browned.

The Onion Gravy is a cinch. You slice up some onions, and brown them in a frying pan. If you add a few pinches of sugar and salt, this will help them to caramelise. You want them to get brown and a bit burnt. This is a good thing. Add a tablespoon of flour, and let it cook in the oniony fat. Once the onions and flour are brown enough, you can deglaze the pan with some stock, water, and perhaps, a slug or two of white wine. Instead of gravy browning (what's that?), I use a few drops of Soy Sauce, which will give the gravy an even richer colour and taste. A teaspoon of redcurrent jelly is not a bad plan, either. Onion Gravy should be thin.