Frydmania

Once a year it came: heralded by a certain thump as it came through the letterbox and hit the mat. Back in the days when suppliers could afford to show their thanks for choosing their products, my dad was rewarded for his custom with: smoked salmon.

Smoked salmon is associated in my mind with Christmas, because it would arrive a little before Christmas. We would ooh and aah over it, and it would be quietly taken away, to reemerge, on brown bread and butter. An eek of lemon, a twist of black pepper, and you had party food all set.

My brother wasn’t keen, which was fine as far as the rest of us were concerned, because that meant More For Us. He did come into an understanding with salmon, some years later.

Smoked salmon is much more easily available now, particularly if you live in Scotland. There’s all kinds of variant smokings of it, choices around location and so on.

One year my great aunt found some wonderful smoked salmon which was a bit different – thicker pieces, more like a regular salmon but still smoked. Will have to find out what it was – one from the Isles.

At some point, I became acquainted with bagels. And from there, it was a mere step to that deli staple: bagels with cream cheese and salmon.

I learned that the cream cheese is a shmear, and the salmon is lox (from the Yiddish, laks, and similar to German, lachs). Break out the dill pickles as well, if you can, for some acidity to cut through the richness of the cheese and the salmon.

We had the bagels meal tonight, and I found myself retelling the salmon through the letterbox story. But smoked salmon works well in other contexts too. In my quest for 101 ways with potato salad, consider snipping in a little smoked salmon. It works if you add some more lemon to the mayo, and I’m sure some chives wouldn’t go amiss either.

Another favourite is an easy fish plus pastry, known here as Fishy Parcels. Use shop bought puff pastry for super ease. I tend to cut a block into 6, then roll each out to a rough rectangle. Spread with some cream cheese, leaving a little border. If you can, grate on some lemon zest, and add some black pepper.

Lay little bits of smoked salmon on top of the cream cheese part. If you fancy, defrost some peas, and add them onto the cream cheese first (helps them stick). Then fold or roll up the pastry however you see fit, so that the contents stay inside. Brush with beaten egg. I tend to bake them for about 30 mins, 200 C (GM6) – I tend to pick something non stick to make it easy.

You should know that these are at their best luke warm, rather than hot. It’s worth having a salad with a decent dressing to go alongside, or anything else that adds some juice to offset the dryness of the pastry. And they are seriously good cold the next day for a packed lunch.

Smoked salmon. All you need for the party season – and beyond.

In the last couple of years, I’ve become a bit of a sweet potato fan. I’ve got the t-shirt, the video, the rereleased greatest hits…well, no. But there’s nothing like a late discovery to encourage you to make up for lost time in the kitchen.

What is it about the lovely sweet potato? Its colour is a good starting point. That cheery orange that shouts ‘look at all this colour! I must be good for you!’ It peels easily. It chops easily. It even keeps pretty well, which helps if they do them on special.

What interests me is the consistency once cooked – how, quickly, it goes from a reasonably hard veg, not unlike a parsnip, say, then changes to a wonderful smoothness, yet with texture. You’re not just spooning it in – you can single it out in a dish. I like that.

Here’s where it gets trickier. As I move through my ingredient list, I realise I’ve already told you about sweet potato in risotto, sweet potato with mackerel. I can probably add a little note to say that sweet potato is good in Thai curry, but I kind of alluded to that particular version when I wrote about prawns.

What else? I’m rather keen on it with carrot, in a soup. On our first trip to the fabled ‘cottage with the upstairs’, I had my first attempt at roasting a chicken in an Aga, then making stock in one of the ovens. I then used the stock to make a soup with carrot and sweet potato – the richness of the stock against the different textures of the vegetables was a winner.

Dan is currymeister of the household, and we’re both rather fond of his veggie curry, now pared down to: carrot, parsnip, and sweet potato. The innovation has been to cook it fairly dry, and, more recently, change the cut of the veg to caramelise it more. A bit of cauliflower doesn’t go amiss here, but even without, it’s a treat for a Saturday night meal a deux. (If you get the chance.)

I know the classic is to serve it alongside turkey for Thanksgiving. I have not as yet tried cooking it with marshmallows on top. I do like turkey, and I might give it a go one of these days – happy with cranberry too, and many of the other Thanksgiving specials.

With its sweetness, I’m convinced that there must be some form of cake out there with sweet potato. Wasn’t there a go at it on Masterchef Professionals this year?

Give that carrot, courgette, beetroot all make it into cake format, there must be a cake – or at least a muffin. Ray Charles has sung of sweet potato pie – that’s maybe halfway there. And I’m sure my trusty cinnamon would work with it a treat.

I’m sure there ought to be more variations, but I’ve only been working the sweet potato thing for the last three years – much less time than a lot of the other ingredients. Give it time. The passion for it is there.

It’s a race to post before midnight. Something short and sweet for a change. Peanut butter? That’ll do nicely. As will peanut butter biscuits, satay sauce, groundnut stew, smoothies with peanut butter in…and a handful of dry roasted, if you’re offering.

I came late to peanut butter. I tried smooth, and experienced tongue stuck to roof of mouth syndrome. For one as keen as I am on talking, this was offputting. Luckily, there was jam to keep my slices of bread covered up in the meantime.

But later, I discovered crunchy peanut butter – and a whole new world opened up. Including that of PB&J. I did not grow up Stateside, but I have taken to this with great conviction, and repeat performances.

Foiled by the clock. This will now end up being a posted after midnight job. But that’s OK. It’s the end of term, I have some cunning small people management plans for tomorrow, and it’s nearly the weekend. Nearly.

So. I should probably state at this time that I am not a great eater of nuts, overall. Some I like, some I find just too…’fatty tasting’ is probably the closest I can come to it. But peanuts, I can take.

Peanuts are the ubiquitous nut of the west (sounds like that phrase should instantly become its own pop group), when it comes to parties, late night snacks, and so on.

In the days where food allergies seem to be on the increase, perhaps not so ubiquitous. Peanuts are definitely not so great for some. So I appreciate that my enjoyment of peanuts, and peanut butter, may not be shared.

I have to say, I am also less keen on peanuts ‘in the raw’. Process of popping peanuts out of their shells: good. Taste of red layer coating peanut: less good. So I wait for those in packets that have already been cleaned up a bit.

I came across satay sauce in my teens. My dad used to work in agriculture, in companies that sold supplies to farmers. This involved the occasional time on a trade stand. And at some point, he discovered Fox’s Spices, allowing you to order an amazing range of spices through their stand, and through a catalogue.

For some years later, if there were a barbecue, there would be satay chicken made with their mix. It’s still one of my favourites. There’s some heat, but not so much that you need to worry about it. I should go off and consult dad on what else he made – something different for pork, and I’m sure there were more spice mixes besides.

At university, there were various cookbooks I used – some aimed at students. One cookbook has long since been passed on – I didn’t make much from it, but I do have a copied out version of Polly’s Peanut and Pasta something. A bit of an East-West cross over – pasta, yoghurt, cabbage, peanuts, carrot, ginger and soy sauce.

It probably sounds rather ominous at this point, but trust me – there’s great crunch in the veg which you stirfry, but the heat element gets softened by the pasta and yoghurt. Oh, and it is really good cold the next day. The main deal is getting root ginger to make the dish zing (probably my first recipe where I did go and buy root ginger, so memorable for that too.)

I also discovered at this stage that a pestle and mortar is a much better notion if a recipe calls for chopped nuts. Trying to control a peanut with a knife and a chopping board…well, it’s good if you have target practice in mind, but not so much if you want to eat at the same time the other ingredients are ready.

At some point, I also tried groundnut stew – think beef stewing steak and lots of peanut butter. I should try it again really – a proper groundnut stew probably wouldn’t have the meat, and would rely on other ingredients like beans.

I think the Food Aid cookbook might have a recipe (there’s a blast from the past! We remember Band Aid, and lots else from that first rush of fundraising mid 80s, but who remembers the food element of all that? Fronted by Delia Smith and Terry Wogan.).

Peanut butter in smoothies has come via Nigella Express. There’s a recipe based around partially frozen banana and milk, which calls for honey and also for Camp Coffee. Not having any of the latter, I tried the suggested alternative of peanut butter, and never looked back.

Making it for two, I tend to add a spoon of honey, and a spoon of peanut butter. I love to hang onto the peanut butter spoon, and use it to mix (and sometimes, spoon in) the smoothie. There’s a wonderful salt element that cuts through the sweetness of the banana.

And so, on to peanut butter cookies. These have become a favourite, partly for me when wanting to provide Something Nourishing before/after a sports class for a wee one. I’ve experimented with a couple of different recipes, but the main one I use has marg, icing sugar and smooth peanut butter.

Very easy to mix, to incorporate some flour, and then you spoon them out to bake. Nice and quick, and also still tasty after some adjustments (in the gluten- and dairy-free departments).

And finally, to the question of jam with one’s PB. I like a rather acidic jam to add some piquancy to the richer taste of the peanut butter. So, blackcurrant for choice – but then blackcurrant is for choice in most situations.

Raspberry can be good too. I think I probably tried rhubarb and ginger as well – there, the kick of the ginger would work with the peanuts again.

Only difficulty of finishing on that note is the question of the late night snack.
Well…I might just have the answer.

Butter beans. You know. The slightly waxy ones. The ones that are creamy, that retain a bite after cooking, yet can also puree down nicely if you need them to. The ones that conveniently come in tins, at least conveniently for me, as I love using them.

For all of having my few years of vegetarianism in my teens, I don’t think I came across butter beans then. Maybe at university? I don’t know quite when they entered the tin cupboard, and my culinary consciousness.

But they were there, along with some tinned tomatoes, when I wanted to make something quick. Combine them with some frozen spinach, whatever remaining veg you might have in the fridge (carrots tend to be a favourite), and you are on your way to a warming meal.

Spinach and Butter Bean (for thus goes the name) is great for a Friday night when you’re tired, but still want to eat something that tastes good. For a parental dinner that will take care of itself while you engage in the pre-bedtime obstacle race. And it happens also to be perfect for the points when you’ve had a bit too much rich food, and want to ease back.

This one was an invention of mine, and one that has transplanted successfully into others’ homes. My mother in law serves it with baked potatoes. A friend takes it in a different direction, and adds spices to offer a more Indian take on it.

In the last year, I read a recipe for the Italian soup/stew, Ribollita, and realised it was much the same. It’s hard to be genuinely original, but I don’t mind. If it eats well, keep going. Oh, and add a splash of white wine while you’re about it.

My later tweak, given the liquid from the frozen spinach, and any juice from the tinned tomatoes, is to add a couple of handfuls of barley. That adds some carbs, and usefully soaks up the liquid. It also offers a little bite, against the smoothness of the tomatoes and spinach, and the nubbly texture of the beans.

The main advantage is that you put it together in five minutes, stick it on a low light, and then essentially leave it for about an hour, while the barley does its work, and all the flavours and textures soften. I like it with cheese on top – just grated cheddar will work fine – but you don’t have to.

One thing to note: better to do this with tinned tomatoes rather than passata. If you choose the latter, it cooks faster because there’s less liquid to soak up – which can mean it’ll stick to the bottom of the pan.

White beans combine well with fish too. I haven’t made a proper Italianate tuna and bean salad – I think cannellini beans are required, and probably much better quality tuna too. But still – I can tell that the mealiness of the beans is offset by the ‘juicier’ fish, adding texture too. And butter beans would probably do the trick here as well.

Butter beans are probably quite an old English ingredient. With lamb, perhaps? I know I’ve seen a recipe where they accompany lamb shanks. I think they would probably also be good in stews, and perhaps in soups too?

They’re not as chirpy as chick peas, not as robust as kidney beans. But they are still a great store cupboard staple – and one of these years, I might even get round to cooking them myself.

Butter beans also have a special place in my heart, as they feature in a classic Bagpuss episode, The Mousemill. The object put in Bagpuss’ window is a mill, and the mice work hard to convince Professor Yaffle that you put in breadcrumbs and butterbeans, and bring out chocolate biscuits.

It takes him a while to go round the back and realise that the mice are popping the chocolate biscuits in at the front, putting them in a wheelbarrow, and bringing them round to the front to start the whole process again. When he says as much, they laugh at him and ask how he thought breadcrumbs and butter beans could be anything but themselves.

Butter beans – unsung heroes of the culinary world. Often the foil rather than the main event, they are still worth choosing, and using.

May I present two genteel guests to the party: Earl and Lady Grey. Although the Earl is often sighted on his own, the Lady Grey has been growing in public affection in recent years. They are not just tea. They are gentili-tea personified.

Sunday mornings in my teens: rest of the family would go off to mini rugby, often enough. I would get up late, after washing dishes at a hotel on a Saturday night.

I would have brunch. I would watch some Saturday night TV recorded the night before. And I would brew a small pot of Earl Grey to have with my food.

The aroma of Earl Grey brings back those Sundays. The house to myself. Time to rest. Time to relax. Time to have exactly what I wanted to eat and drink – not that I was generally made to have things I didn’t want, but being able to choose them for myself, and make them for myself.

My dad thinks of Earl Grey as ‘smelly tea’. It’s the bergamot, the floral oil that is part of the scent and taste of the tea.

He for his part drinks Lapsang Souchong on occasion, which is more like the Ardbeg of the tea world – tarry, somewhat medicinal. On my Sundays, I could drink my tea without comment – and with enjoyment.

One of my former colleagues would proudly tell you that she had gone through something like 20 years where, every day, she would start the day with a cup of Earl Grey. I learned this on a work trip where we met at the breakfast table. Thankfully, that trip, she was able to continue her tradition.

I don’t need to do the same, but I understand where she’s coming from. It is good to have something to savour, something that tastes ‘fine’ in the best sense, something that feels rather like a treat in itself.

Part of the process of marriage is gradual indoctrination in each other’s ways – ideally, where each appreciates the other’s tastes. Dan resisted Earl Grey for quite a while, but has now taken to it too. It’s often at the weekend, mid afternoon, where Earl Grey is requested – perhaps more than regular tea is requested.

In fact, what may be requested is ‘Earl Grey tea hat’. This is not a costume you must slip into, in order to sip your tea, but a rendering of ‘Earl Grey tea: hot‘, a reasonably regular request from Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek, to those unfamiliar) to the ship’s replicator (think of a vending machine that will make you anything you want to eat or drink).

The reason it’s ‘hat’ is the Americanised pronunciation of ‘hot’. I don’t know whether M. Picard has a particularly Americanised accent or whether it’s the replicator that speaks back to confirm the order? It seems rather strange to relate it, given that the actor is as British as they come, and a notable performer of Shakespeare too.

It does reflect that gulf between the Englishes spoken on either side of the Atlantic. In the UK, stating that tea needs to be served hot can seem odd, if not ludicrous: ‘well of course you serve it hot, you make it with boiling water…’ In the US, land of the iced tea (particularly in the south), tea is taken to be cold, unless stated otherwise.

In fact, the indoctrination effect has gone a stage further, so that Dan’s mum now drinks Earl Grey too, having previously found it too ‘floral’. And you should know that, if you are choosing to go a decaffeinated route, decaf Earl Grey allows you to have a lighter drink while still letting it taste of something.

Whither Lady Grey, then? My Italian former flatmate started me on this. Lady Grey is lighter in taste than Earl Grey. It has something of the bergamot, but more citrus too. It’s slightly fruitier, paler in colour, and particularly refreshing. In some ways, it’s a step towards the warmth factor of chai, that spiced tea beloved of those who want something particularly comforting.

I rather like having both available in the house. I sometimes go for Lady Grey if I want a gentler drink – a touch of caffeine without the no nonsense taste of a regular tea. It adds variety, and it evokes a different mood.

I have yet to go to the home of the original Earl Grey – keep meaning to do so if we’re in Northumbria. I gather the tea room is rather wonderful – it would have to be, really, wouldn’t it? I seem to remember something about lots of different tea pots. And the house is no doubt lovely too.

That’s the thing with tea. It can be a pit stop, a moment to lift the head, a point to remember people, places. And when one is in such fine company, as with an Earl and a Lady, it also offers elegance, taste – and delight.