Fiori di Zucca

All ready for piping

In terms of culinary scope, it’s not often that you get presented with a challenge quite like a courgette flower.  I always knew that Luisa (housekeeper / cook /never-seen-ironing-like-it / superwoman extraordinaire who comes to our house once as week) grew courgettes in her vegetable patch, but its one of those things that you’re always a little bit scared to ask for.  The pressure is just too great with a courgette flower.  The pure divineness of its fragility, the beauty of its structure, the unbelievably high expectations it brings with the very scent of the fresh courgette is enough to make your fingers tremble.  And funnily enough, they do!  Who would have thought the darn things were so delicate?

In terms of my cooking style, my enthusiasm certainly makes up for any lack of elegance I may have.  But courgette flowers are in a league of their own.  Jamie Oliver’s magic ricotta mix (with a Lucy twist) was duly spooned into a piping bag ready to slip into the obedient flowers which would then be dipped in batter and fried to a crisp. The end result I have to say was a wonder to behold, but oh my word – they tear so easily!  They are tricky to unwind, tricky to keep open, tricky to cut the strange orange stamen thing (which apparently makes them taste bitter) and tricky to avoid tearing – but by the time they’re in the sizzling oil and the kitchen looks like you’ve suddenly changed your colour pallet to off-white, you know it’s all been worth it.

In all their greedy glory

Verdict?  I was genuinely elated with the result; they were crispy, moreish and my only regret was that I didn’t have more people at the dinner table to show them off to.  Which is where you come in…

Jamie Oliver’s fiori filling

200g ricotta cheese

nutmeg

a handful of parmesan

1 lemon zested

small bunch of mint

1 firey chilli

Combined, these ingredients make the filling which should be piped into the flower.  Then dip them in a light tempura batter and fry until crisp. Eat immediately.  And don’t even wonder about what to do with the left overs.  There won’t be any.

A kebab won me over

Kebabs have never quite found their way into my heart.  A 2am variation found in a shawarma joint on one of those nights out I can admit, carries its own special charm; but not the kind I’m talking about.  Not the the barbecue-type where a load of dried out meat is squeezed unappetizingly onto a wooden skewer.

To be honest, I’m not really enticed by anything thats all meat and no sauce; I’m a soft and saucy kind of girl as opposed to the let’s-spend-the-rest-of-the-afternoon-picking-meat-out-of-our-teeth kind.  This may have come from a childhood spent trying to swallow over-cooked meat (my Mother has many talents. Cooking is not one) or it may just be that I evolved from toothless apes, but either way, meat en seulement doesn’t do it for me.  Once in a while I am seduced by a vary rare steak (with its relevant sauce) and I do love a juicy chicken leg, but I’ve never been charmed by a chicken kebab.

That is, until I learnt the joys of marinating.  Why has this passed me by for so long?!  A potentially very dry chicken breast can be transformed into the juiciest, yummiest piece of meat on earth with a little chilli, mint, lemon juice and a whole lotta garlic.  Ok, ok, I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave out the sauce so I whipped up a small bowl of tzatziki to go with it and that, accompanied by a warm pitta bread and some cucumber and lettuce salad, made an alarming healthy yet positively blog-worthy supper.

Sumptiously juicy and not a toothpick in sight

Marinated chicken skewers 

4 chicken breasts (makes 4 skewers)

As much crushed garlic as you like (I used about 6)

a big bunch of mint

2 very hot chillies

shallots finely chopped

about 2 lemons’ worth of juice

a good glug of olive oil so good for spreading on the chicken.

I whizzed it all up in a blender and smothered it with the marinade for about half an hour.  Plonk the chunks on a skewer and between each chunk put a little rolled up sliver of courgette. Grill for about 25 minutes, turning every 5-10 minutes.

Tzatziki

a couple of pots of greek yoghurt

a whole cucumber, skinned and grated and squeezed to remove the water

3 crushed garlic cloves

Combine!  Make sure the yohghurt is of the very thick variety and that a lot of the water has been removed from the cucumber.

(You will notice that I have left out a photo of the tzatziki, this is because it looked like cat vomit, but the recipe is nonetheless above because it did taste unbelievably good.)

Serve with lettuce and cucumber salad, toasted pitta bread and a crisp, cold white wine.

P.S. The difference a good photo makes!  This one was taken by my very lovely and talented photographer cousin Viktoria Begg while she was on holiday in Barcelona! 

An unpredictably delicious hodge podge of ingredients.

Obviously, peas and mint make a glorious combination.  Peas and pancetta is a ubiquitous Spanish dish.  Artichokes and feta marry together beautifully.  Feta and peas surely come into their own once introduced.  But what happens if, due to a sorry looking piece of feta crying out from your fridge, a slightly dubious smelling chunk of pancetta calling out for remorse, an old can of peas and a newly discovered jar of artichokes from the depths of the fridge, forces you to combine the lot one cool summer evening after a strenuous gym session has left you crying out for fuel?  Well, the simple answer is that this dish most certainly should never be consigned to the ‘throwing together old ingredients’ variety.  A culinary triumph of deliciousness and (minus the chunk of baguette which we won’t mention) reasonably carb free.  Not that I care less, but I obviously need to be in keeping with what’s de rigueur if I’m going to be a blogger.A very easy mid-week supper

1 small onion (or some spring onions)

A couple of thick slices of pancetta, diced

1 can of peas

1 small jar of artichoke hearts

A big chunk of feta

Fresh mint

A little bit of water

Fry the tiny bits of onion and pancetta until slightly golden, then add the peas, artichokes and mint.  Serve in your favourite bowl and sprinkle with a generous sprinkling of crumbled feta.

Hot and Sweaty Quiche

For me the word ‘quiche’ conjurs up images of mediterranean ingredients: a delicious salad, a light white verdejo and maybe a slab of pan con tomate on the side.  Why then, is it so bloody difficult to make the thing in a mediterranean climate?  I mean, we’re hardly talking mid summer heat waves, but even in late March, the Barcelona climate is not conducive to producing good pastry.  I would tell you if I suffered from some excessively hot sweaty hand syndrome, or if I lived above a dry cleaners (I’m trying to convey a very hot house here, bear with me) but I don’t.  I live in a blustery, cool, attic flat in the north of Spain. 

So this was my second attempt at a quiche in my newfound homeland and let’s be honest here, it’s not just the pastry that’s the problem.  If anyone reading this has ever lived in Spain, you’ll understand what I mean when I say ‘fresh cream’.  The nearest thing you get to fresh cream here is refrigerated UHT.  You also get a gloopy UHT cream which renegades as double cream, but it is actually impossible to get any sort of cream over 38% fat.  Why bother, you ask?  Because homemade quiche is divine!

Anyway, all was not lost and the story really does have a happy ending.  The pastry seems to come out alright when made in a split second in a mixer (cheating?  Who’s to know.) after having put the butter in the freezer for half an hour.  The cream and egg mixture has to be made with whipping cream (ridiculous I know) and I think it actually helps to undercook it just slightly so the end result is more fluffy.

Finished quiche?  Pretty good to be honest. Sadly though, that’ll have to be my quiche-making season well and truly over now until late autumn when I’ll be on to round 2 of cold pastry battle.  Hopefully by which time I may have invested in a dairy cow.

Ham, leek & mustard quiche:

Pastry

85g plain flour

50g butter

half an egg yolk with a dribble of water

Quiche filling

wholegrain mustard

1 egg

3 tablespoon of freshly grated parmesan

150ml special spanish cream

leeks, ham, or whatever you have about

It’s snow substitute, but it’ll do

Whilst I understand that living under 3 feet of snow for the past week and a half must be pretty dire, it doesn’t stop me bitterly ranting on about the distinct lack of Christmas weather (not to mention spirit) present in Barcelona at the moment.  I’m not sure if it’s to do with the blistering sunshine, the select group of sweating santas or the absence of Nat King Cole gracing our air waves, but I really do miss the grotesque commercialism and hideously cold weather of a British December. 

So yes, I have to go looking for my Christmas kicks elsewhere.  Ok, so a beautiful fish restaurant on the Costa Dorada coast overlooking the port and the dazzling setting sun reflected in the shimmering waters isn’t exactly a substitute, but it involved food and took my mind off the hardships of being abroad at such a fun time of year.  Cue sombre violin solo…

Cal Pinxo is deliciousness all round; from the plump and friendly waiters to the exquisite dishes they serve up.  For a Sunday lunch it was certainly a world away from a roast beef and yorkshire pudding next to a log fire, but I’m hardly pleading sympathy here.  We began with a vermouth and some olives to whet our appetites while choosing the scrumptious starters and mouth watering main-courses from the menu.  For it being a Sunday, when most Catalan restaurants are heaving with children and they can’t get the paellas out the kitchen fast enough, all the food was à la carte and even contained the chef’s suggestions of the day.  (Doesn’t sound out of the ordinary, but believe me, you’ll understand if you’ve ever been out for lunch in Catalonia on a Sunday. Nightmare)

The remains of the cockles

We chose fresh steamed cockles to start with, along with a rather strange but extremely delicious salad which consisted of lettuce, smoked tuna, cured cod, romesco sauce and anchovies.  Odd? Yup. Bloody yummy? Oh yes.  For main course I chose an enormous chunk of monkfish tail, which usually I don’t order as I find it a bit same-y, but it was so amazingly tender, it was as if it had been cooked in a second, with garlic, chili and lemon, accompanied by a few sautéed potatoes which I didn’t even acknowledge.

Monkfish tail

We also had sea bass with baby broad beans with mint and lemon which honestly fell apart in your mouth.  I used to loathe broad beans with a passion but at this time of year in Barcelona they are so tiny and sweet and lovely that I just can’t stop eating them.  They are particulary good fried in a little olive oil with some serrano ham and lemon juice.  Or in a warm salad of spinach, artichoke hearts and serrano ham.  I had imagined you would need a strong flavour to complement the little beans but the fish worked perfectly; an unusual dish but it totally blew us away.  We also ordered a classic paelle marinera.  You can always tell the quality of the restaurant by a paella ordered on a Sunday.  It was a complete winner; al dente rice, rich flavour and tonnes of seafood.

Seabass with baby broad beans

Paella Marinera

I am embarrassed to admit that the pudding part will have to be left up to your imaginations as by the time I could have even considered reaching for my camera to take a photo, it had gone.  Well, more accurately speaking I had eaten it.  I don’t think you could blame me, really, I mean… once a plate with warm parcels of creme anglais wrapped in deep fried filo pastry with a blueberry coulis and fresh rasberries had been plonked down infront of you, would you really take time to ponder over its photographic value?  I knew it wasn’t just me…

http://www.calpinxositges.com

Oh my good Gaig!

In my efforts to bring joy and delight to the eyes and culinary senses of my (select) readership, last night I tested my stomach capacity to its limit and practically stripped the life out of my poor fatigued taste buds. I enjoyed an experience so memorable that even Ferran Adrià would have been wiping the tears from his eyes. Yes friends, in the presence of first class dining veterans and world renowned chefs, I picked up a plate and used my very own tongue to wipe it clean in a michelin starred restaurant. Ashamed you ask? Well yes; only that I wasn’t capable of finishing off my dinner aquaintances’ leftovers.

The first thing that struck me about Gaig was the refreshing lack of tiresome pomp and circumstance so often related to restaurants of the same calibre. The ambience was laid back and the waiters sufficiently charming, but I didn’t feel like I had to scuttle off icognito to the bathroom before they offered to come in and help me pull up my tights. I had to quickly correct my indignance at the fact that noone was there to place my napkin on my lap when I came back as I realised that Gaig is much more about the food than the desperate effort to charm its guests. They served us champagne while we nibbled attentively at the pre-dinner pica pica, (belota ham mini croquettes, cod buñuelos, seaweed butter biscuits and parmesan crisps) while perusing the mouth watering menu.

Deep fried sea anemones

It was a tricky choice of starter, between truffle spaghetti, lobster and artichoke salad, eel crisp breads (I know… I honestly can’t imagine them either), deep fried crispy sea anemone balls (at this point I thought they were taking the piss…) and many more delights, but once I had acertained that at least a couple of the other diners were opting for starters I wanted to try, I settled for drowned local Maresme peas with belota ham.

Pre-broth amuse bouche

Post broth amuse bouche

We were then presented with the most extraordinary amuse bouche. A small bowl of corn based ingredients; sweetcorn, corn biscuits, corn gelatine and a fine powder which was something related to cous cous. They then poured a sweetcorn broth over the top and we were allowed to eat. It was so divine; surprising and original.

Maresme peas

Rustic scallops

My peas were out of this world. It’s the very start of the pea season in the north of Spain and they were so sweet and succulent, combined with the tender salty ham and the rich broth they were swimming in. For main course I opted for the ‘rustic scallops with chargrilled artichoke’. Cooked to perfection and went so perfectly with the wine we had chosen; I stifled a satisfied sigh at the end of the second course which came out much louder than I had intended.

Steak tartare

Slow cooked roast lamb

For pudding I went for a classic chocolate souffle which came wrapped in paper and was ceremoniously unleashed by the waiter and a rather sharp kitchen implement. I also tried a cava which I had never seen before; Kripta Gran Reserva – so special. It was a very dry cava with very tiny bubbles which made it more like a champagne than a cava.

After enjoying this exquisite restaurant so much, regretably all I have been left with is a cava hangover, some low quality photos and a good dose of sluggish digestion. It is however, all part of the gluttonous experience which I so desired and will surely be repeating again in the not so distant future. http://www.restaurantgaig.com

A near on birthday disaster

Yes, I know, just as my blogging dreams were beginning to be made reality, I had to go and spoil it by going back to university for a year.  Cue: lonesome glances at the shelf of recipe books and long abandoned Saturday trips to the market.  Was it worth it?  Well I didn’t get any thinner, if that’s what you’re asking.

A year on (oh alright, a year and quite a bit) I’m back, with a new blog address and desperate to get to it again.  But where on earth do I start after a long year of eating? A birthday celebration seems a happy place to begin, so here it is; Jordi’s 34th birthday and boy what a feast we had. (Just the two of us mind, this one was not for sharing.)  My meagre bank balance meant that a birthday meal had to be the main present, which makes me chuckle reading it now; I hardly went for the ‘shepherd’s pie’ approach shall we say.

I was coming back from a work trip to Madrid that day and beginning to panic.  The meal was meant to be his big surprise – 3 courses with a birthday cake included – and I had noooo idea what I was going to cook.  The panic particularly set in when I realised that the rest of the presents I had bought him were so measley that his special day could only be remedied with a full on michelin star meal.  Bugger. I was frantically spanning the bbc food website, ukfood, blogs…. anything I could get my hands on to find a) a birthday cake that could be made under 10 minutes and b) something that would be easy to locate in a Spanish supermarket.

After going through a long thought process of fish, fishcakes, fish pie, anything with fish… I realised how easy and delicious it would be to make a simple linguine marinara.  Bingo! I could even bypass the starter and make a seafood linguine so spectacular that a starter wouldn’t even be necessary!  Combine that with a chocolate and vanilla marble cake (looks flashy, very easy) and we’re onto a winner.

So off the train, straight to El Corte Inglés supermarket (loathe the place, excellent for emergencies), home, quick gin and tonic, and the dinner preparations start.  The cake recipe was from bbcgoodfood was super quick to make and was divine (I added a chocolate butter icing to it) and after preparing the sofrito for the seafood linguine I could actually leave the rest until Jordi came home.  The star dish of the night however, was undoubtedly the moudly looking mushrooms I found at bottom of the veg drawer which were magically transformed into baked, breaded brie stuffed mushrooms.  I was rather impressed with both my thriftyness and valience in the face of possible food poisoning, owing to the age of the mushrooms.

By the time Jordi came home I was exhausted, filthy and not particularly hungry.  I battled through it though and my three courses were a triumph. Phew!  One lesson I did learn however, was never to buy 1€ candles ever again.  They originally spelt out ‘Feliz Cumpleaños’ but by the time I’d got to the final ‘S’, the ‘F’ had well and truly past its best. A bit like me and the mushrooms really.

Seafood Linguine

A selection of seafood. I used big prawns, cockles, clams, mussles and baby squid.

Tinned tomatoes

1 Onion

Chilli flakes

White wine

Linguine

Fry off the prawns and squid for about a minute or 2 in a deep frying pan. Remove, set aside and cook the onions until soft in the same pan.  Add the tomatoes and chilli and let thicken for about 15-20 mins.

When you’re ready to eat, cook the linguine in boiling water and add all the shell fish, squid and prawns to the bubbling tomato sauce. Cover. When all the shells have opened, add some chopped parsely, season and mix with the cooked linguine.  We drank it with a Marqués de Alella white. Enjoy!

The Welcome Donation

 

The main difference between Spanish Mothers and Scottish Mothers (in my case anyway) is that Spanish Mothers are of the opinion that even though your son is now well into his 30s and more than capable of fending for himself, weekly El Corte Inglés bags full of edible donations are still a necessary part of life. And, quite frankly, who am I to complain? You can imagine my delight then, when said 30-something year old arrives home with a bag full of langoustines on Friday. ‘Oh well, yes, thank you so much Ana María, oh no I’m sure we can find something to do with them’ Cue a rather nice bottle of cava popped into the freezer for half an hour and a few heads of garlic slowly finding their way into a tray of oil and rosemary.

The amount of langoustines we had been donated (I say donated as I still am of the opinion that until I am into my 30s and have paid off at least a small proportion of my student debts, expensive food should be accepted graciously and without protest) was enough to have invited at least one other person over to share the fun, but honestly – I don’t think I’m going to be judged too heavily on that one. I can easily say that this is one of the most deliciously sumptious meals I have ever eaten. Each individual component prepared so simply but combined resulted in gastronomic heaven. We ate the langoustines with roasted garlic cloves, bread & butter and icy cold cava – truly worth a Friday night in. In fact, give me more of these little blighters and I’d quite happily give up on seeing any other human being for the rest of time.

Langoustine Supper

Langoustines (as many as you can beg, borrow, steal or accept graciously from a kindly older lady)

Garlic cloves

Crusty bread, cold unsalted butter

Very very cold Brut cava

Place the garlic cloves in the oven with a bit of oil for about 10 mins before adding the tray of langoustines, to which you have poured a good few slugs extra virgin olive oil and a few splashes of brandy for about another 20 mins.

Make sure you are uncontactable for the next 45 mins (that includes not talking to the person you’re eating it with) and… enjoy.

My perfect empanadilla

One of the many advantageous things about living in Barcelona (apart from the gloating), is that when friends come to stay, there is never any doubt about what to do with them. Creating an itinery entirely based on where the next meal is coming from back in Scotland would be grounds for being sectioned in the local institute for the clinically obese, whereas in Barcelona, greed is a somewhat more revered quality. This weekend I was lucky enough to get one of my less ‘abstemious’ friends shall we say, so the pressure was on.

Tapas may seem like a simple option in Spain, but it can easily go stomach churningly wrong if you don’t know where to go. Perhaps I’ve just become too fussy (I like to call it discerning) but if my bravas aren’t crispy enough or the tortilla gritty, I’d rather just stick to the cava thanks. Marcel, a very understated bar in one of the more upmarket areas of Barcelona couldn’t get it more right. The boys behind the bar are so friendly but serious about what they do and little details like ordering a bottle of cava and being presented with a fresh glass from the freezer for every top up is just the beginning of the exquisite but very personable treatment they give you. The food is prepared by 2 little ladies in the kitchen and brought to the bar by the rather delectable camareros and amongst the delights you could chose from were deep fried artichokes, garlic mushrooms and the crispiest, lightest emanadillas I’ve ever tasted. (Empanadillas – think sexy cornish pasties)

A really fabulous place with a great buzz – a must for pretending to friends from the UK that this is all my life involves. Well, not exactly pretending…

My share of the market

Laugh all you want, but nothing beats that Saturday morning trip to the market with my trusty shopping trolley in tow. There’s no room for embarrassment here thank you. I’m happy to mix with the rest of them. Yes, every single one of the immaculately dressed, coiffed to perfection, 70-something year old señoras of my barrio and I have no qualms about bringing the average age of the entire market down by about 50 years. There is something strangely comforting about keeping a firm hand on the shoulder of that 4 foot 10″ 78 year old standing next to you before she jumps ahead of you to grab that last punnet of wild mushrooms.

Collblanc market is the buzzing epicentre of the local neighbourhood. It’s about a quarter of the size of the more well known ‘Boqueria market’ on Las Ramblas but considering its size and more ‘traditional’ clientele, it has an impressive array of produce. We always head to one fruit and veg stall in particular where even if the queue stretches back to the door, you feel like you can spend all day asking questions and prodding around. Ibought some fennel for the first time yesterday (I have never ventured into fennel cookery before, although I’ve now found a Jamie Oliver recipe for it so watch this space!).

Saturday lunch is always my favourite meal of the week as it’s just when we come back from the market and the fridge is just bursting with possibilities. I decided to make a simple Salad Nicoise this time using fresh instead of tinned tuna. It’s so fresh you could eat it raw, but I whizzed it on the griddle pan 30 seconds each side and it was just delicious.

Salad Nicoise

Fresh tuna steak
Cos lettuce
Anchovies
Softish boiled eggs
Baby new potatoes
French beans boiled and plunged into cold water
Combine and drizzle with a dijon mustard, white wine vinegar and lemon juice vinagrette with lashings of black pepper.