The New English Kitchen: Changing the Way You Shop, Cook and Eat. Rose Prince
240g/8oz red lentils
1 onion, chopped
a pinch of ground turmeric
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, chopped
2 hot green chillies, chopped
2cm/3/4 inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped
juice of 1 lime
2 kaffir lime leaves, slightly torn
240g/8oz feta cheese, broken into lumps
Put the lentils in a pan with the onion and turmeric, cover with water (or stock) and bring to the boil. Simmer for 45 minutes, then strain.
Heat the oil in a large frying pan, add the garlic, chillies and ginger and cook over a medium heat until singed light brown, but not burnt. Stir in the lentils, lime juice and lime leaves, then bring to the boil and add the cheese. Take to the table when very hot – the cheese will soften as it heats through.
beans
Beans are the pasta of Spain and the Latin American countries where they come from, but they do not share pasta’s convenience-food factor – unless bought in cans. Dried beans bought in the UK take a seeming age to cook and there is a reason for this. In countries where beans are really valued, they tend to be fresher even when dried, since they are taken from the new-season crops. Ageing beans, dry as can be and probably years old, are sent to those who care less about them – to, er, places like Britain, where everyone happily consumes chicken breasts and tiger prawns for their protein fix. So we get the old beans – the ones that take ages to cook. No wonder everyone prefers pasta. Chick peas are the worst – I once waited seven hours for a pan to produce a batch soft enough to eat. The energy cost must have run to the price of a rib of beef. You can buy better beans (there are specialist varieties in Spanish groceries), and patience – or a pressure cooker – will deliver nice tender beans eventually. It’s not that you have to do anything while they go through their eternal simmer, just that you have to be around – and most people would prefer to be doing something else.
It’s because of this that I am a fan of canned beans. I buy my haricots, cannellini, flageolet and black-eyed beans in cans. They still go a long way – averaging 30 pence per helping – and are perfectly cooked and ready to use. They keep for ever and, apart from being damned heavy to carry back from the shop, are a practically perfect food.
windowsill bean sprouts
Not the oriental sprouts but mung bean sprouts, left on damp paper. This is a lovely, crunchy little sprout that gives its liveliness to open sandwiches made with cold meat and mustard. Children can be put in charge of production – the biology lesson alone is healthy stuff.
Use an old wooden or plastic seed tray with drainage holes and put it on something leak proof. Cover with four layers of kitchen roll and dampen with water. Scatter mung beans on top and leave to germinate, moistening the paper again if necessary. When the sprouts are about 2cm/3/4 inch high, after about four days, they are ready to eat.
You can do the same with herb seeds, and slavishly follow the current fashion for pointless but fun infantile plantlings. Frankly, bigger leaves have far more oomph. But there’s no harm in them, and buying big packs of coriander seeds will produce coriander babies in a matter of days, to chuck on to green salads, open sandwiches and shut ones.
butter beans marinated with shallots and watercress
To eat with cold meat, such as ham, pork, chicken or beef.
Serves 4
6 shallots, sliced
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 cans of butter beans, drained
the leaves from 2 bunches of watercress (the stalks can be
reserved for soup)
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a saucepan, stew the shallots in the oil for about 2 minutes to remove their raw aroma. Add the beans, remove from the heat and leave to steep in the shallot-flavoured oil until cold. Season to taste and add the watercress, stirring the salad well.
This salad will keep in the fridge for a week – the watercress will wilt but it will still taste lovely. Again, this goes against standard food-safety advice but I check it, smell it, and look for any bubbles or bad signs.
kitchen note
Add canned tuna to this recipe (see here).
baked chick peas, peppers and potatoes with yoghurt sauce
Another one-pot standard to keep in the fridge for busy weeks when you don’t want to cook. The yoghurt sauce will brighten it, and it’s good alone or as a side-of-the-plate number.
Serves 6–8
3 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 onions, sliced
2 red peppers, cut into strips
2 cans of chick peas, drained
20 cherry tomatoes, or 6 small tomatoes, halved
2 sprigs of thyme
600ml/1 pint chicken, vegetable or beef stock
1 tablespoon butter
For the yoghurt sauce:
8 tablespoons plain yoghurt
1 tablespoon olive oil
a pinch of salt
1 teaspoon black onion seeds (nigella)
Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6. Mix the spices, pepper and salt together in a small bowl – you will need them as you layer the dish.
Heat the oil in a large casserole and add the onions and red peppers. Cook them over a medium heat until they soften, then add a layer of sliced potatoes and season with the spice mixture. Add a layer of chick peas with half the tomatoes and a sprig of thyme, then season again. Repeat the layering process, finishing with a layer of potatoes and using all the spice mixture. Pour over the stock, dot the surface with the butter and bake for 1 hour, or until the potatoes are tender. Leave for half an hour before you eat, to let the flavours merge.
For the sauce, combine the yoghurt with the olive oil and salt in a bowl. Scatter the black onion seeds on top and serve with the baked chick peas.
potatoes
Buying sacks of British potatoes at the roadside, even in cities, is a great economy. They should be sold in paper sacks to keep the light away from them and prevent them turning green. I now keep a metal dustbin outdoors for potatoes but as long as you store them in a cool, dark place they should be fine.
Looking at the supermarket shelves, you would think that only two or three potato varieties grow in the UK. It’s not that Maris Piper, King Edwards or Desiree are dull, simply that there are dozens of other varieties in danger of vanishing unless there is a demand for them – and we, the cooks, are missing out. Many of them are lovely, with colours ranging from white to yellow, and purple to a strange