Книга Vegetables - читать онлайн бесплатно, автор Sophie Grigson. Cтраница 5
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Vegetables
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Vegetables

I often add parsnips to stews, just 20 minutes or so before the stew finishes cooking so that they have time to absorb some of the flavours, but not so long that they collapse. They are good in a chicken stew, but even better in an earthy beef stew.

And finally, try baking a parsnip cake – replace the carrots with grated parsnips in the recipe on page 28. You’ll be amazed at how good the cake is, and you can keep your family and friends guessing the mystery ingredient for hours.

Tortilla-wrapped refried parsnips

Tortilla night at Hacienda Grigson, but madre mia, no beans to refry!!! And then we thought – wait a moment, hold on, but wouldn’t the starchy texture of parsnips work rather well as a substitute? And you know what, they were better than a mere substitute, bringing a welcome new vigour to what has become one of my family’s favourite suppers.

The parsnips, incidentally, can be cooked and mashed with their spices and onion way before they are needed, then gently reheated just before serving. The salsa positively benefits from being made an hour or so in advance, leaving time for the flavours to meld and develop.

Serves 4

750g (1lb 10oz) parsnips

2 teaspoons cumin seeds

1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 small onion, chopped

1 clove garlic, crushed

salt and pepper

Salsa

250g (9 oz) sweet tomatoes, deseeded and finely chopped

1 shallot, finely chopped

1 clove garlic, crushed

1–2 red chillies, deseeded and finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

2 tablespoons chopped coriander leaves

juice of 1 lime

To serve

8 corn tortillas

125g (41/2 oz) feta cheese, crumbled

6 crisp young lettuce leaves, shredded

pickled jalapeño chillies

1 avocado, peeled, sliced and tossed in a little extra lime juice

150ml (5floz) soured cream

For the salsa, merely mix all the ingredients together, then set aside at room temperature.

Prepare the parsnips as normal and cut into big chunks. Bring a pan of water to the boil (not too big, please) and stir in half the cumin seeds, all the turmeric and some salt. Now add the parsnip pieces and cook until tender. Drain, reserving some of the cooking water.

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan and fry the onion with the garlic and remaining cumin seeds until tender. Pile in the parsnips and, as they sizzle in the oil, mash them up roughly with a large fork. After about 3–4 minutes, add 3 tablespoons of the cooking water to moisten them, and carry on frying and mashing for a few more minutes until you end up with a thick, fragrant, rough mash, golden and appetising.

Just before serving, wrap the corn tortillas in foil and heat through in a low oven, or alternatively wrap in clingfilm and heat through in the microwave (check packet for timings). Put all the other extras into separate bowls and place them on the table, along with the salsa. Spoon the parsnips into a bowl and place on the table along with the hot tortillas.

It’s all ready to go now. Each diner takes a tortilla and adds a big spoonful of parsnip mash, spreading it roughly down the diameter of the tortilla, then tops it with as much cheese, salsa, lettuce, extra chillies, avocado and soured cream as they fancy. Then that lucky person just rolls it all up and takes a great big bite.

Parsnip and ham gratin

This is a terrific supper dish. Ham and parsnip are happy bedfellows, but need a good dose of spiky mustard in the sauce to bring them to life.

Serves 4

8 wee parsnips, or 4 big chunky parsnips

15g (1/2 oz) butter

8 slices very nice cooked ham indeed

30g (1 oz) Parmesan, freshly grated

Sauce

30g (1 oz) butter

30g (1 oz) plain flour

600 ml (1 pint) milk

2 tablespoons coarse-grain or Dijon mustard

salt, pepper and freshly grated nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6.

Peel the parsnips. Boil small ones whole until just tender. With great big boys, you’ll need to quarter them lengthways and cut out the tough cores, before boiling them until just tender. As soon as the parsnips are cooked, drain, run under the cold tap and then drain again, really, really thoroughly.

To make the sauce, melt the butter and stir in the flour. Stir over a gentle heat for about 1 minute, then draw off the heat. Gradually stir in the milk, just a slurp at a time until you have a thick, smooth cream, then add more generously, stirring it in well each time. Bring back to the boil, stirring and scraping the bottom and sides of the pan. Let the sauce simmer genteely now, for a good 5–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until thickened pleasingly. Mix in the mustard, salt, pepper and a keen grating of nutmeg. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

Butter a baking dish with a little of the 15g (1/2 oz) butter, and spoon a little of the sauce into the dish. Wrap the small parsnips individually in slices of ham. With the larger, quartered ones, wrap two quarters together in each slice of ham. Lay the rolls of ham and parsnip side by side in the dish, then pour over the remaining sauce. Sprinkle the Parmesan evenly over the top, dot with the remaining butter and slide into the oven. Bake for about 20 minutes, until golden brown and bubbling. Serve straightaway.

Thai-curried parsnip soup

Many moons ago, sometime in the 1970s, my mother, the food writer Jane Grigson, came up with a great idea – curried parsnip soup. It’s an idea that has gone mainstream, with variations and personalisations aplenty. This is my homage to her brilliant and innovative concept. As with her original, the wonderful sweetness of parsnip is balanced and beautified by the use of spices – this time round it’s ginger and lemongrass, aided by frisky doses of lime and fish sauce.

Serves 3–4

2 tablespoons sunflower or vegetable oil

2 fresh red chillies, deseeded and chopped

500g (1 lb 2oz) parsnips, peeled, roughly cut up and cored if necessary

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, chopped

2.5cm (1in) piece fresh root ginger or galangal, peeled and chopped

2 stems lemongrass

300–450ml (10–15floz) vegetable or chicken stock

2 tablespoons fish sauce

1 × 400ml can coconut milk

juice of 1 lime

a handful of coriander leaves

a handful of Thai or Mediterranean basil leaves

a handful of mint

Put the oil, chillies, parsnips, onion, garlic and ginger (or galangal) into a fairly large pan. Cut off and discard the top of each stem of lemongrass, leaving the lower, fatter 10cm (4in) or so. Using either a meat mallet, the end of a rolling pin or the flat of a wide-bladed knife (press down on it firmly with your fist), semi-flatten the lemongrass stems so that they stay more or less in one piece, but are sufficiently damaged to release their extraordinary flavour. Add them to the pan. Give the contents a quick stir, then cover and place over a gentle heat. Leave to sweat gently, checking once, for about 10 minutes.

Now add the lower quantity of stock and the fish sauce. Bring up to the boil, then simmer quietly, uncovered, for 10–15 minutes until the parsnip is very tender. Fish out the lemongrass and stir in the coconut milk, then liquidise the soup, adding some or all of the remaining stock if you find the soup too thick.

When nearly ready to eat, reheat the soup. Stir in the lime juice, then taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more fish sauce if it tastes under-salted. Mix the fresh herbs together, roughly tearing up larger leaves of basil or mint. As you serve the hot soup, top each bowlful with a small mound of fresh herbs.

Potatoes

Some vegetables go in and out of fashion. The potato just stays put, miraculously straddling fashion and permanence without stumbling. Rather like Shakespeare, but with a far broader fan-base. It has a fascinating but well-documented history which I shall skate over blithely: originating in the Andes, hitting Europe in the 16th century, greeted with deep suspicion but eventually taking root big time, both literally and metaphorically, unwitting cause of the Irish famine. I would go into more detail, but as a subject the potato deserves a book of its own, and many excellent tomes have already been written on the subject. Search one out, read and marvel at this most extraordinary of commonplace items.

Practicalities

BUYING

Much of what follows will be well known to anyone who cooks or eats, but read on if you have time, for hidden away amongst the general knowledge you may find a few useful hints.

More and more, in farm shops and the few remaining specialist greengrocers, sellers are having the courtesy to let us know the varietal name of the potatoes they sell. This is a good thing, and supermarkets have done their best to emulate it. Why shouldn’t we choose potatoes in the way that we choose apples? Sure, we may not be able to hold the specific attributes of ten different types of potato in our head at all times, but there’s pleasure to be had in stumbling across a favoured variety, that we know tastes good, and pleasure to be had in discovering that whilst one variety is fluffy and dry fleshed, another is smoother and waxier and has a distinct undertone of almonds.

Broadly speaking potatoes fall into two main categories, each more suited to certain styles of cooking than others. The dominant category is that of the maincrop potatoes, larger to very large, with a drier, mealy flesh, in season from late summer onwards into the cold months. Smaller but highly valued are the waxy potatoes, a group that includes junior new potatoes as well as what are known as ‘salad potatoes’ which retain their dense waxy texture right into maturity. The rightful season of the new potato is from late spring through to midsummer by which time they are tipping from adolescence into maincrop adulthood. Salad potatoes are harvested later, from maybe July on into the autumn.

Of course, these seasons for potatoes are now all but obliterated. Modern farming methods, imports and long storage mean that we can and do enjoy any sort of potato at any time of the year. And yet…there is a natural harmony (as always) in the old-fangled seasons. In winter we crave all those warm, caressing comfort dishes that can only be made with maincrop potatoes – steaming jacket potatoes, creamy mash, crisp-coated roasties or finger-burning fresh-fried chips. Then as the ground warms, food lightens and new and salad potatoes are in the ascendant, so exactly right with a piece of poached salmon, or grilled chicken breast, or thick slices of ham with a zesty salad. Nothing then supersedes the rightness of a good potato salad, critical side dish at a barbecue, on a picnic and at a summer wedding.

Choosing the right potato for the job in hand is important, although all rules are made to be broken. Just get to know them first, before you attempt flagrant breaches. In other words use chunky maincrop potatoes for: baking, mashing, boiling, roasting, deep-frying, sautéing, adding to doughs to lighten them (e.g. in potato bread, or potato scones), gratins and so on. Save new potatoes for: boiling, salads, sautéing, gratins, and roasting whole. Yes, there are overlaps, but the results will differ with the potato variety used.

I’ve had to concede, reluctantly, that my mother was right when she insisted that one should always buy dirty potatoes. A thin jacket of dried-on muck does indeed seem to preserve flavour to some extent. Not critical, but a bonus if you are prepared to spend a couple of extra minutes at the sink scrubbing them clean. Dirt or no dirt, glance over potatoes as you pick them out to ensure that they are free from bruised machinery gashes, mouldering patches (a sign of poor storage), sprouting shoots, and above all patches of green. That charming green coloration tells you that the potatoes have been exposed to light for too long, thus developing poisonous toxins. Not a good thing.

Maincrop and salad potatoes can be kept for some time in the right conditions (a dark, cool, dry place) but new potatoes have a short shelf life. Eat them within a few days of purchase to enjoy them at their best. Don’t leave either sort of potato in a closed plastic bag for any longer than is necessary – moisture will gather in its folds, and sooner or later your potatoes will start to rot.

Don’t keep potatoes in the fridge, or at least not for more than a day or two. In the icy claustrophobic atmosphere, the starches in the potato mutate into sugars, which, while not cataclysmic, is not really appropriate for most potato dishes.

COOKING

With their light flavour, and engaging textures, there is no end to the ways in which one can use potatoes. Potato recipes abound right around the globe, in each region gilding the basic lily with characteristic local ingredients to mould them into the local cuisine. They are just so darned versatile, a word that I loathe, but which is absolutely right in this context. For this reason I’m not going to list a chapter of ideas for how to embellish potatoes. Once you can make silky mash, bake jacket potatoes, turn out perfect crisp roast potatoes, sauté diced potatoes, and conjure up a mean potato salad, you will have mastered all the essential techniques you need to create almost any potato dish ever invented. The rest, frankly, is just a question of exercising your curiosity and imagination.

Mash

The marvellous yet confusing thing about making mashed potatoes is that there is no absolute one-and-only ideal recipe. I happen to think that perfect mashed potatoes are as smooth as silk, not quite runny, but nowhere near stiff, with plenty of nutmeg and butter to boot. You may disagree. Once you are in control of the basics, however, you can adjust method, ingredients and quantities endlessly to suit your own credo.

My mum always baked potatoes for mash and so do I – the flesh is drier and has a more distinct flavour. Microwaved potatoes are good too. Boiling comes next in line, as long as you use evenly sized potatoes and boil them in their skins. As soon as they are drained, cover with a clean tea-towel and leave to steam-dry for 5–10 minutes before peeling off the skins. Don’t peel potatoes and cut into chunks before boiling – they will just get waterlogged and lose much of their taste to the water, producing a dull, flat-tasting mash.

Good varieties for mashing are King Edward, Maris Piper, Golden Wonder, and Kerr’s Pink (my favourite), amongst others.

Mashed potatoes are a perfect receptor for all kinds of extra, zippy ingredients – try stirring in some coarse-grain mustard or a spoonful of creamed horseradish. The Irish love to add chopped spring onions softened in butter or cooked cabbage, or you could go ultra modern and mix in roughly chopped rocket leaves and the finely grated zest of a lemon.

Serves 4

1kg (21/4 lb) floury maincrop potatoes

115 g (4oz) butter, at room temperature

150–300ml (5–10floz) hot milk, or a mixture of milk and cream

salt and freshly grated nutmeg

Either bake or boil the potatoes in their skins (see above). Halve baked potatoes while still warm and scoop their flesh out into a bowl. Save skins for making crisp-roast potato skins (see page 75). Peel boiled potatoes while still warm and place in a bowl. Add the butter.

Now the mashing itself. For a really smooth mash use one of the following methods:

a) push the potato little by little through a potato ricer

b) rub the potato through a vegetable mill (mouli-légumes)

c) mash roughly with a fork, then whisk with a hand-held electric whisk until light and fluffy

d) mash roughly with a fork, then rub through a sieve.

Scrape the puréed potato into a saucepan and place over a gentle heat. Add plenty of seasoning and about a third of the hot milk (or milk and cream). Beat hard with a wooden spoon, gradually adding more milk until the mash hits the kind of consistency that sets your mouth watering. Taste and adjust seasoning, and serve.

Sage and onion mash

Chop 1 onion and fry in a little butter or oil until golden brown. Cover 10 leaves of fresh sage with boiling water (to release more flavour). Drain immediately, dry the leaves and chop roughly. Stir sage and onions into a bowl of hot mash made as above.

Roast potatoes

Perfect roast potatoes with a crackling crisp crust masking a melting, fluffy interior are rarer than they should be. The method is not hard, but it requires some forethought. The potatoes must be par-cooked in advance, then roughed up in order to develop that irresistible golden brown, crusty exterior.

If you are cooking a roast, don’t tuck the potatoes around the meat, but roast them in a separate tin, large enough to spread the potatoes out in an even single layer, not jam-packed in tightly.

The best fats to use are melted lard or dripping (without the jelly), olive oil or sunflower oil or, best of all, goose fat (available in cans and jars). I prefer to use either Cara potatoes, which have a smooth texture, or end-of-season large new potatoes, but for a fluffier interior head for the old faithfuls – King Edward, Maris Piper, Désirée, Estima and their kin.

Serves 4

1.3 kg (3 lb) large potatoes

6 tablespoons goose fat, lard, olive oil or sunflower oil

salt

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6.

Peel the potatoes and cut into medium-sized chunks – say about 5 cm (2 in) across. Cook in boiling salted water until three-quarters cooked – around 5–6 minutes. Drain thoroughly. Use a fork to scratch criss-cross lines all over the surfaces of each chunk of potato, roughing up the exterior so that it crisps perfectly.

Put the fat in a large roasting tin and slide into the oven. Heat through for 5–8 minutes. Quickly take the tin out and add the potatoes. Turn so that they are all coated in hot fat. Return immediately to the oven. Roast for about 40–50 minutes, turning the potatoes after the first 25 minutes and then again once or twice more, until they are browned and crisp all over.

Serve straightaway.

Chips

Who doesn’t love chips? And the best chips of all are those you make at home, from scratch. Frying up a batch of real chips is not something you will want to do every day, but as an occasional treat they’re worth every moment of standing over a hot pan.

Chips are fried twice, the first time at a gentle heat to just soften them right through to the centre, the second time at a higher heat to brown the outside. You can do the first batch of frying ahead of time, but leave the second hot, hot, hot session until just before serving. If you use an electric deep-fryer the temperatures are easy to gauge. If you don’t then it is worth investing in a food thermometer.

Good varieties for chips include King Edward, Maris Piper and Désirée. Cara give a slightly waxier texture which I love but if you prefer a fluffier centre stick with one of the first three.

Serves 3–4

3 large potatoes

sunflower or vegetable oil for deep-frying

salt

Peel the potatoes and cut into slices about 1 cm (1/2 in) thick. Cut lengthways into batons of about the same thickness. Cover with cold water to prevent browning, until you are almost ready to cook them.

Set the oil to heat up. The right heat for the first fry is 150°C/300°F. Drain the potatoes then dry them thoroughly on kitchen paper or clean tea-towels. Deep-fry in several batches so that the temperature of the oil is not lowered too much, allowing them to cook for about 4 minutes, without browning, until tender right through. Drain on kitchen paper and leave to cool.

Just before serving, reheat the oil, this time to 180°C/350°F. Deep-fry the chips, again in batches, until golden brown.

The only thing you need to do now is drain and salt the chips. The best way to do this is in a large brown paper bag. Yes, honestly. Tip the chips into the bag, add plenty of salt, fold over the top and shake – the bag absorbs excess fat, and the salt gets evenly distributed. If you don’t have a brown paper bag to hand, drain the chips briefly on a triple layer of kitchen paper, then sprinkle with salt. Serve straightaway while still good and hot.

Baked potatoes

Baked potatoes are fabulous comfort food, and so easy. Just pop them into a hot oven when you get home from work, go and have a bath or a glass of wine, or whatever unwinds you after a hard day, then an hour later they emerge, steaming hot, crisp outside and gorgeously tender inside. Whether you dish them up as the main part of a meal with a sumptuous topping, or as a side order, baked potatoes are warming and reassuring, and of course, they taste just fine too.

For each person you need one large baking potato – any large maincrop potato will do the job nicely. Prick the skin all over with a fork to prevent it bursting during cooking. Now you have choices to make. You can a) leave the potato just as it is, or b) dampen it and rub salt into the skin – this gives a deliciously salty skin – or c) rub oil all over the skin, to make the skin crisper, or d) go for both oil and salt or e) wrap the potato in foil for a tender, soft-skinned potato.

Once you’ve reached a decision and finished preparing your potato, bake for 50–60 minutes or until tender right through. Test by pushing a skewer into the centre. Once the potato is cooked, cover with a cloth and let it sit for 5 minutes before cutting open – this makes the flesh fluffier and lighter.