Intercontinental blog challenge - picnics

It’s time for another round in my occasional Intercontinental Blog Challenge with Lisa of Unique Little Bits. It was Lisa’s turn to suggest the theme this time, and she picked the very seasonal ‘picnics’. The idea is that we eat create a dish from the other’s cuisine, and it’s already introduced me to some interesting reading and cooking.

It’s a good thing we give ourselves quite a while to plan these events as it usually takes a bit of mulling to come up with initial ideas and then find out whether they're actually in anything more concrete than an episode of Friends. My first plan was to do something terribly cultured and recreate an iconic picnic from American literature. But I couldn’t think of one. Then I got stuck on the fact that I couldn’t think of an American version of a sandwich which didn’t use a non-American bread like bagels or baguettes. Worried that I was just trying to Americanise an English picnic, I turned to our friendly family Yank, Eco Bro, and asked him what made up the picnics of his childhood. He looked at me as though I was crazy to need to ask such a question, and replied ‘barbeque, of course’. Apparently you just turn up at a park with a disposable barbeque and some burgers and buns, or use the ones they have there. I don’t want to imply that’s by any means unheard of here, but it didn’t leave me a great deal of manoeuvre for this veggie event. I took the general theme and ran with it though, deciding to make veggie burgers with buns and relish. I’m of the personal opinion that a picnic is not a time when you want a fancy home-made bun (though I could be persuaded for the right sort of picnic, I’m sure); instead you want some of those pleasingly squishy mass-manufactured buns, and only in white, of course. I made the other of our favourite burgers, from a Rose Elliott recipe, which we like to eat with tomato relish and salad. They’re firm enough that you could pack them and transport them to the venue of your choice, though you’d need to be a little careful with them on a barbeque.

Salad formed the other part of my foray into American picnics: potato salad and a corn, bean and avocado salad. Potato salads came up in every website I found on picnic food, and the traditional corn and bean combo seemed like another winner. Our picnic actually took place a couple of weeks ago as I wanted to share it with Eco Sis and Eco Bro, and so the chances of eating it outside were pretty small (who am I kidding – we planned to have a picnic this weekend and it wasn’t really warm enough then either!). As we so often have to do over here, we had our picnic inside, but I kept to the theme and laid the table out with a picnic rug and our best plastic cutlery. The salads were served out of Tupperware, and we drank out of plastic glasses. I love occasion food, even if the weather doesn’t oblige (and it’s better than miserably eating crisps in the English rain, or fighting with your siblings while you watch the windscreen wipers trying to clear the view of the beach)! Our little feast was still a success despite being indoors, and was a nice veggie take on what I imagine an American back-yard picnic might be like.

Lisa has already told me that she included Pimm’s in her picnic, so it sounds to me as though she’s pretty spot-on with her English theme. I just hope that she got better weather than we usually do here!

Spicy beanburgers (from Rose Elliot's Vegetarian Slimming)

Makes 8

1 tbsp olive oil
1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped or grated [I grate because I like the texture better in the cooked burger]
1/2 green pepper, de-seeded and chopped
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed
1/4 - 1/2 tsp hot chilli powder (optional) [but good!]
1 tsp ground coriander
2 cans red kidney beans
50g soft wholewheat breadcrumbs
salt and pepper
100g dried wholewheat breadcrumbs, to coat
a little extra olive oil

Preheat the oven to 200 C/Gas 6

Heat the oil in a large saucepan, add the onion and stir. Cover and leave to cook over a moderate heat for 5 mins, stirring occasionally. Then add the carrot, green pepper and garlic, stirring occasionally. Add the spices, stir for 1-2 mins, then remove from the heat. Mash the beans and add to the onion mixture together with the breadcrumbs and seasoning to taste. Divide into eight, form into burgers and coat with dried breadcrumbs. Place on an oiled baking sheet and bake until brown and crisp on one side, then turn over to cook the other side. [I find this takes about 20-25 mins altogether] Drain on kitchen paper. Serve hot or warm.

Chilled summer borscht

I do like a good soup for lunch, and they're especially comforting in the depths of winter. I like them so much that I'll still make our favourites in the summer sometimes, but I do branch out into a variety of chilled summer soups, too. As I mentioned before, The Scientist doesn't like cold soup, but we've found a few which do well at either end of the temperature spectrum. One of my favourites is borscht, which is a Russian beetroot soup. Served chilled, it's really refreshing, sweetish (just the natural sweetness from the beetroot) and a very satisfying shade of vibrant purple. Served warm it's back in the comforting zone, and I like to contrast its warmth with little swirls of chilled yogurt.


I also like borscht because it was a favourite of our Grandad's, who ate it as a child. Grandad was always endearingly vague on the details of his childhood memories, and claimed not to remember anything from his youth. Sadly he died the same year as Israel Grandpa, just managing through sheer force of will to hang on to hold his first great-grandchild - the Munchkin. However, the borscht had somehow stuck in his memory, and I think it was a dish one of his grandmothers used to make. His family had emigrated from Russia at the start of the last century, and he grew up living with both his grandmothers, who, amazingly, didn't speak to each other. None of that is related to the Russian-ness, but their origins do explain the borscht. Grandad and Granny T used to make it in summer and we had it with them quite often. Their house, where Granny T still lives, is near Brighton and The Scientist and I spent a lot of time with them while we lived in Lewes. Having lived hundreds of miles away through most of our childhood it was lovely to be able to get to know them better, especially since Grandad got ill soon after we moved to the south coast. We spent all the Christmases of our childhood with them, and they had one of those amazing houses which could always stretch to fit two or three more children in, produce just a bit more food, and always contained an adult who was willing to play board games with you (actually that was always Granny T who has the endurance of a coppit-playing saint). I never realised how much of an exercise in planning Christmas dinner was until very recently, as a huge feast would just roll seemingly effortlessly out of their kitchen. Those memories are all of roast parsnips, meringues and fruit cake, but now borscht has joined the list of foods that will always make me think of them.

I looked out for beetroot at the farmer's market this week with this soup particularly in mind, but was especially gratified to find some in such an unusual shape!

Is this the brightest and cheeriest soup in the world?

I'm sure there are many many slight variations on the recipe, but I like to use the one from Entertaining with Cranks because it's the same book Grandad and Granny T used. It suggests that you add sour cream to the chilled soup, but I just put a pot of yogurt on the table for people to add as they like. Without the sour cream it makes more like five helpings than six, (four when you're catering for The Scientist) but that's as a main course with bread rather than as starters. Actually I find I don't care for bread so much with it when it's chilled, but some crunchy croutons might be nice. It's a very easy one to make, but of course everything you touch once you've started will get dyed purple.

Iced borscht (from Entertaining with Cranks)

Serves 6

2 tsp oil
1 chopped, medium sized onion
450g grated raw beetroot [I don't grate or chop by hand any of the vegetables but spin them in chunks in the food processor instead - much easier and less purple]
1 diced small carrot
1 diced small potato
900ml vegetable stock
2 tbsp red wine vinegar or lemon juice
1 tbsp tomato puree
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
generous pinch ground bayleaf [I just put a whole leaf in, which I have just realised to my embarrassment that I forgot to take out and must have pureed! I'm glad The Scientist doesn't read the recipe part of my posts]
generous pinch ground cloves
1/2 pint soured cream or Greek yogurt [I serve this separately]
salt and pepper, to taste
chopped chives to garnish

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and saute the onion and beetroot, stirring occasionally, for 5 mins. Add the carrot and potato, stock, vinegar, tomato puree and spices. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat, cover and simmer for about 1 hour until the beetroot is tender. Allow to cool and then puree. Chill. Stir in about three quarters of the soured cream and adjust seasoning to taste. To serve ladle the borscht into individual bowls and garnish with a spoonful of soured cream and sprinkle with chopped chives.

Rah, pimms

It's summer. It's Wimbledon. It's time for Pimm's. After looking interestedly at the inevitable displays of Pimm's in the supermarket every summer for the last six years or so, I finally bought a bottle today, and we're having a glass right now as an aperitif before going out for dinner. I served it in champagne flutes to try and look posh, with the traditional mint, cucumber and strawberries floated on the top, but I read in the leaflet that came with the bottle that actually it should be served in a highball glass. The reason that neither of us knew how it should be served is because we've almost always encountered it in a plastic pint glass before. I know, classy. The Scientist and I both did our degrees at Oxbridge, where no occasion in the summer term ('Trinity' if you went to the sensible university, 'Easter' if you went to the crazy one in the Fens) was complete without more Pimm's than you should ever drink in one sitting. Croquet on the quads, watching the rowing by the river, finishing Finals; all were toasted with plastic pint glasses of Pimm's. My undergraduate college even had a Pimm's officer to make sure that every finishing finalist got their half bottle allowance. All very Brideshead, I know, but as you long as you keep your tongue in your cheek and your best post-modernist ironic mortarboard on, the Oxbridge experience is something to be relished and looked back on with fondness. Now we're going out for sushi, which probably isn't the traditional post-Pimm's cuisine, but as I said - everything is improved with a glass of the summer nectar. Anyone for croquet?

Cheers! Note my thriving rhubarb, squash and blueberry plants in the background. I'm so proud!

Six months down

It is six months today since Kiwi Family boarded a plane for their big adventure Down Under. I thought about writing this post yesterday so that Kiwi Sis could read it on the right day - but then I realised that it's probably not yet six months since they arrived. The journey seems interminable from this end when you include the time change. Munchkin Granny is flying out from here on Monday and doesn't arrive until Wednesday (I hope she's got a good book or three. Actually I don't think she has any room for books at all what with all the jaffa cakes, marmite and babygros she taking out there!)

Six months seems like a very long time, especially when there's a small Munchkin busy growing up and learning new words every day. I prefer it this way: it's six months closer to seeing you all again. At any rate, it seemed like such a notable date that Noodle decided it was time to leap from his fruit bowl and mark the occasion in his own little way. Yes, we ate a jaffa cake in your honour, Kiwi Family. You don't get much more momentous than that.

So, this led me to reflect on what has happened in the last six months. Hmmm, I have given some lectures, made a lot of cakes, set up my stately new office space, finally put up some of our pictures, and done a lot of sewing on baby quilts. Pooky has looked wide eyed a lot, and piggle has lost her collar and is running around naked (this just happened yesterday and I still think it's funny to say that). And The Scientist has taken up poker, eaten some of my cakes, and continued his drive to become Master Of All Science. Bah, I see your emigration, new job, hugely increased vocabulary and almost-fully-gestated foetus and raise you a frozen brownie. And a Tesco's own jaffa cake.

In the kitchen with Noodle

You may remember that a couple of weeks ago I posted a picture of a toy rabbit posing with a batch of homemade brownies. 'Random', you may have thought, and passed on. Well now I can formally introduce the young bunny in question: his name is Noodle, and he'd been helping me in the kitchen.

Noodle marshalls his ingredients

The reason that he was acting as my brownie buddy that day was that I happen to know that The Munchkin owns his identical twin - both gifts from Granny T. I thought it would be fun to make him a little photo book featuring Noodle baking some brownies which he could then replicate at home. Or at least help his mum - I'm a bit out of touch but I'm pretty sure 21 month olds aren't up to too much independent measuring and melting. Noodle duly played his part in the adventure and turned out to be a pretty good baker if the results were anything to go by, and the little book winged its way off to New Zealand.


Once introduced to the world of cakes, however, Noodle wanted more. He'd become blase about real baking after managing the giant-sized utensils so well the first time, and decided to dabble in a little ready-made cake mix. Of course cake mixes would never normally be allowed in my kitchen, but Eco Bro had cunningly picked up on my unhealthy interest in the weird and enormous array of mixes available in America, and brought me back an Angel Food cake mix from a business trip a few months ago. I've been holding out to make it for an occasion when he and Eco Sis were with us, but what with one thing and another it hadn't yet been opened when Noodle went on his convenience baking kick.

Noodle was quite surprised when he read the instructions on the pack to find that all you had to do was add water. Yes, really. He took the manufacturer's word for it, and measured out his water (dangling precipitously from the tap until he got the required amount. There's little this bunny wouldn't risk in the name of top quality cake mix). The mix whisked up into a fluffy mass almost immediately, filling a ring pan and loaf tin to boot. Neither Noodle nor I had ever had Angel Food cake before, but we gather that it contains a lot of egg whites, and as such is almost fat free. This one certainly was, apparently containing nothing other than water and sawdust. Once baked and brown on top, Noodle informed me that Angel cakes need to be inverted in their tins while they cooled, and anxious to do things properly, we improvised a cooling gantry.

It's the way they do it in America, doncherknow?

We deferred to Eco Bro on how to serve our triumphant cake, and he requested squirty cream and strawberries (shall I embarrass you, Eco Sis.......?). The cake was so light and fluffy that it needed a gentle sawing action to avoid compressing it into a slice a fraction of its former size on cutting. Once we'd mastered that though, we found it to be curiously fascinating. It was very fluffy, but in a foamy, soft way - a friend I gave some to the next day described it as dense candy floss (and then gobbled the rest up, so I think this was a good thing). The family consensus was that it was good, but more as a vehicle for cream and berries than as a delicacy in its own right. I hasten to add that this is no reflection either on the bunny-cook, or the very thoughtful courier. I welcome any future chances to mock American instant cake mixes.

Noodle poses with his finished cake. He's sitting at the cake end, which is doing a good job at blending in with the cream (or possibly Noodle got carried away with the squirty can)

Noodle hasn't requested any more baking sessions yet, and has been having a rest in the fruit bowl since his Angel Cake triumph. He's been throwing glances at my cookbook collection though, so I wouldn't rule out future installments of Noodle's Baking Adventures. He'll have to find a recipe without cream though - Eco Sis took care of that :)

Sprouted bread - BBD 11

I mentioned in a recent post that I love buying nice breads. I also like trying to make interesting loaves, and this month’s bread baking day, organised by Zorra really caught my eye. The theme is sprouted breads, which is something I’ve never tried and wasn’t really quire sure what to do with. When I bought the organic sprouted beans which featured in my leguminous salad last week, I also had this challenge in mind.

The bread before baking (note lack of confidence that it will turn out ok after baking!)

After a peruse of The Laurel’s Kitchen Bread Book, a brilliantly informative book I bought recently but have yet to bake from, I found that there seem to be two main ways to go with a sprouted bread. One is to sprout wheat berries, grind them, and use them in place of some of the flour. I have never knowingly seen wheat berries over here, so I left that one there. The other is to add sprouts to bread dough, and bake them in. I’m not experienced enough with bread to know what the properties of different add-ins will do to the dough, so I decided not to risk replacing anything for the sprouts, but simply to add them as I would seeds or grains. After much dithering I selected a soya milk loaf because it sounded interesting, and it was in the same section as the rest of the sprout breads (and clearly would therefore absorb some sort of sprout karma which would bless my bread). The recipe notes said that using soya milk makes for a light loaf which tastes like an egg-enriched one. I used unsweetened soya milk, and wholemeal bread flour, though I think that regular plain wholemeal would have been ok. All the stages went smoothly and I just kneaded in the sprouts at the shaping stage. I took a photo before baking just in case they burnt, but in fact it all turned out very nicely and the bread was nice and light, with a lovely whole-foody nuttiness. The sprouts added an extra crunch which was very agreeable. I would definitely make this bread again and would happily serve it up with soup to guests (or the more whole-foody ones, anyway!). I ate another piece with my soup at lunch today and was struck again at how good it is (even after being frozen in the meantime). It's hard to describe its interesting nuttiness, almost rye-ishness and thought-provoking lightness. Just give it a go and see if you can do better!

Post baking - phew

You could, of course, sprout the beans yourself and I do plan to do this next time, but it was such a nice assortment that I thought I’d start easy!

Soymilk bread (from The Laurel's Kitchen Bread Book)

Notes from the book: 'This is often mistaken for an egg bread because it rises beautifully to give a perfect, airy slice that has good flavour and a slightly chewy, thin, dark crust. It is just right for toasting and for sandwiches'

Makes 2 loaves [I halved it]

2 1/2 cups soymilk, unflavoured [I used unsweetened]

2 tbsp honey

2 tsp active dried yeast (7g)

1/2 cup warm water

6 cups whole wheat flour

2 1/2 tsp salt

3 tsbp butter OR 6 tbsp oil [I used oil]

If the soymilk is not first-day fresh, bring it to a boil, then cool to lukewarm. To cool it quickly, place the pan in a sink or dishpan partly filled with cold water, and stir the soymilk occasionally. Stir the honey into the soymilk (if you choose to use oil and not butter, add the oil too)

Dissolve the yeast in the warm water

Combine the flour and salt in a mixing bowl and make a well in the centre. Pour in the soymilk and yeast mixtures and stir all together, adding more water or flour as required to make a soft dough. Knead very well, about 20 minutes vigorously [since I was only making one loaf I probably only did about 12 mins, as you need longer for a larger amount of dough, apparently]. If you are using butter, add it toward the end of the kneading time without melting, working small pieces into the dough until it is smooth and lustrous.

Because of the ripening influence of the soy, allow this dough to rise only once in a warm place, about 80F before shaping. Test by poking the dough with a wet finger, about 1/2 inch in the centre of the dough. If the dough sighs, or if the hole does not fill in at all, flatten the dough and divide it, forming two rounds. Let them rest, and then shape into loaves. Let rise in two greased 8''x4'' loaf pans at a slightly warmer temperature, 85 to 90F. When they are ready for the oven, slash with three diagonal lines for a pretty crust and higher rise in the oven [I forgot, much to my chagrin - it's too much to expect I won't forget a stage, after all]. Bake about 45 mins at 350F.

Good variations: add sunflower seeds - about 1/4 cup per loaf, while you shape the dough [this is what I did with my sprouts]
roll the loaf in poppy seeds
Add raising - 1/3 cup per loaf, when shaping the bread

Taste and create - Filipino style spaghetti

After the fun of making Nicole's summer tart, I signed up for this month's regular Taste and Create event. I was partnered with Gay from A scientist in the kitchen - can you think of a more appropriately named partner blog given who I share my life with?! Gay is doing a PhD in molecular biology, and likes to cook from her native Philippine cuisine. I really wanted to try out one of these creations, and her Filipino style spaghetti caught my eye. There are few meals I don't think are improved for adding a banana or two, and I liked the look of this dish as it had banana catsup in the spicy tomatoey sauce. I'd never heard of the catsup (or ketchup as I suppose we'd call it over here), but I googled some recipes, and found that it's like a spicy version of my beloved banana chutney. Gay warned in her post that the sauce is quite sweet and so unlike a traditional spaghetti dish, but it's one she loves, partly because her father makes it.

The original recipe calls for corned beef hash, but I used cooked puy lentils instead. My sauce consisted of tomato sauce with banana chutney stirred in, and some cayenne added to approximate to the heat of Gay's. The chutney already had onions in it, so I skipped the onion stage of the sauce. The lentils were added to the warmed tomato-banana sauce, and the whole was served atop some noodles.


I loved this dish. I didn't measure anything so I don't know how authentic the taste was, but I really liked the slight sweetness from the banana and the dried fruit in the chutney (this particular batch had dried figs in it, though the recipe I read for banana catsup used raisins). Gay suggested serving it with cheese but it was so nice without it that I just added a bit to the odd mouthful. I made loads and ate it all as it was so good. I can't report what my Scientist thought as he is away for the week at a meeting with some collaborators. He's never tried the banana chutney I don't think, though it's possible he thinks he's not allowed (I'm very possessive of the foods I particularly like to prevent him from scoffing them all when I'm not looking! If you're reading this in your halls room, sweetheart, you are welcome to try my chutney :)) With lentils instead of meat the sauce is not a million miles away from barbecue beans or Veganomicon's Snobby Joes, both of which are other favourites of ours, though with a little more spice. So while I don't know whether Gay's father would recognise my version of his spaghetti, I had a very tasty and satisfying dinner. Now I must lie still and digest for a while.

Here's Gay's summary of the recipe:

Cook 500g spaghetti according to package instructions. Place contents of a can of corned beef hash [or cooked lentils] in a bowl and mix with 2 tsp black pepper. Saute chopped garlic (4 cloves) and onions (1 large onion, minced) in vegetable oil. Add the corned beef hash and 2 tbsp soy sauce. Mix well then add the sauces (1 cup banana catsup and 2 pouch of regular tomato sauce - banana catsup is already sweet so no need to use Filipino-style spaghetti sauce). Simmer for a few minutes then add the cooked spaghetti. Make sure that pasta is well-coated with sauce. Serve topped with cheese.

And here's the recipe I looked at for the banana catsup, though I ended up using banana chutney with added cayenne.