horseradish vodka, borscht and rabbit dumplings

There aren't all that many dishes at -10 c that cut the mustard, but horseradish vodka, borscht and rabbit dumplings seem to be doing the just just fine here in Kyiv. What a splendid place, even in the dead of winter, where the warmth of the people totally overcompensate for the lacking in the city's temperature. Where else are you welcomed with a glass of 40% proof horseradish to take the chill off I ask? Follow that up with a smoked plum beer and I'd eat a dumpling filled with anything whatsoever. Interestingly enough, these dumplings are so outright delicious, they're served only with some sour cream. No need for chilli, vinegar or soy here - they simply don't need any more flavour - properly rabbity good.

On the soup thing, this is where the source of internal warmth seriously lies. There are way too many variations of this burgundy coloured soup to even start dissecting, all of which reflect the Eastern European heritage of many Romany people. This one is, I hope, is in the Ukrainian style befitting the incredible hospitality of these brilliant people.

Borscht

 

Serves 6

 

1.2 litres vegetable or chicken stock
2 tblsp red wine vinegar
225g raw beetroot, peeled and grated
500g potatoes, peeled and diced
600g red cabbage, shredded
2 large tomatoes
1 bay leaf
2 onions, grated
4 tblsp soured cream
12 chives

 

Put the stock and vinegar in a large pan and bring to the boil. Add the beetroot and potatoes. Simmer for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are soft. Add the cabbage and whole tomatoes.

 

Cook for about 10 minutes, until the tomatoes are soft, then remove them from the pan with a slotted spoon, purée them in a liquidiser or push through a sieve, and return to the soup.

 

Add the bay leaf and season to taste. Stir in the onions and cook for 20 minutes until the onions are soft. Garnish with a blob of soured cream and a few chives and serve.

 

 

a comforting chicken pho

When a bit of an illness hits you, there's always a go to food for comfort and nourishment. hicken noodle soup from a packet seemed to be the way my Mum brought colour back into my cheeks, but now I'm all grown up and fancy I can assume another level for this miracle remedy.

Pho has to be one of the better known Vietnamese dishes, a sustaining bowl of fragrant noodle soup full of lovely bits and pieces. Good-quality home-made stock is considered vital by those in the know, but if you're short of time, use tubs of fresh stock from the store and just make sure you pack it full of all the amazing contrasts of flavours the broth is generally famed for. This recipe could easily be made with big fat prawns of strips of beef instead of chicken.

Chicken pho

Serves 2

600ml chicken stock
2.5cm chunk of fresh ginger, sliced thickly
1 garlic clove, chopped
2 star anise
1 bundle of vermicelli rice noodles
1 tblsp fish sauce
1 free range chicken breast, sliced very thinly
A few sprigs of fresh coriander and mint
4 spring onions, finely sliced
A handful of bean sprouts
1 red chilli, finely sliced
A lime, quartered

Heat the stock with the ginger, garlic, star anise and a good grind of black pepper. Simmer very gently for half an hour or so, topping up with water if necessary

Cook the noodles according to the packet instructions, drain while still a little undercooked and rinse under a cold tap. Stir the fish sauce into the stock.

Divide the noodles between two bowls and top with slices of raw chicken. Pour the boiling broth over the top, which will cook the meat instantly.

Scatter with a little coriander and put more on the table, along with the mint, spring onions, bean sprouts, chilli and lime wedges, for people to add to the soup.

lobster roll, decadent and frivolous but who cares

New Year, New You? No actually, New Year, Let's eat WELL.

 

This sounds properly luxurious, but was - and in some places still is - a casual (and often surprisingly cheap) snack to be eaten on the beach where lobster is in decent supply. Perfect for when the weather is exactly as it is right now (well it is here anyway)

 

A good lobster roll

 

Serves 1

 

1 x 500g lobster, cooked and shelled, and meat chopped into 3cm pieces

3 sticks celery, finely chopped

10g horseradish mixed with 20g mayonnaise

Juice from ½ lemon

A quarter of an avocado

salt and pepper

15g butter lettuce leaves

1 brioche hot dog style bun

 

The method is very straightforward. Make some lobster salad by mixing cold cooked lobster in bite-sized chunks (with as much of the sweeter meat from the claws as possible) with some finely chopped celery, horseradish flavoured mayonnaise, a little lemon juice, diced avocado and salt and pepper.

 

Lay some lettuce leaves inside the toasted buttered hot dog bun and tumble in the lobster salad.

 

This dish is best accompanied by a decent packet of crisps. And better still, a sandy beach.
 

borek, manti and some stuffed vine leaves

Istanbul is brilliant, by the way.

 

I can't get enough of the energy and sheer enthusiasm the city radiates so effortlessly. It is where I eat like a King and sleep like an insomniac while generally just be with truly great people. 

 

Now, I am a bit of a dumpling fan, and the Turkish manti being a delightful version which are also served up in Armenia do resemble my more familiar friends from my part of the world. They are quite closely related to the east Asian mantou, baozi, and mandu and the Nepali momo, and are just as delicious.

 

As far as I can see, in Istanbul manti are typically served topped with a pungent garlic yoghurt which is again splashed with some dried chilli flakes that have been woken up in hot oil. There will always be a few pots on the side with some sumac, extra chilli and maybe some dried minto too for you to play around with.

 

Traditional Manti

 

Serves 4

 

2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 eggs

about 1/2 teaspoon water

2 onions, chopped finely

250g minced beef

salt and pepper to taste

3 tblsp vegetable oil

1 tblsp red pepper flakes

1 tblsp chopped garlic

250g plain yogurt

 

Combine the flour and salt in a mixing bowl. Add the eggs and water, mixing well with your hands. Add more water, if needed, to form a soft dough. Cover and set aside for at least 30 minutes. Shred the onions and place them in a colander or sieve set over a bowl; drain the juice and discard. Combine the onion, ground beef, salt, and pepper; mix the meat well with a spoon until mashed.

 

Divide the dough into two portions and lightly flour a work surface. Keep one piece of dough covered while you roll out the second portion into a rectangle, rolling the dough as thin as you can. Cut the rectangle into 2-inch squares with a knife or pastry wheel.

 

Place about a teaspoon of the meat filling in the center of each square. Seal the dumplings by gathering the edges of the dough and pinching them together at the top to form a bundle. Transfer the finished manti to a floured plate, and sprinkle more flour over the manti to prevent sticking. Repeat with the second piece of dough.

 

Heat the oil and red pepper flakes in a small pan over low heat just until the pepper flakes have started to colour the oil; don't let them burn. Remove from the heat and keep warm. Stir the minced garlic into the yogurt and set aside.

 

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over medium-high heat, and cook the manti until the filling hot, and the dough is tender, no more than a few minutes. Drain well. Divide the manti among four plates. Spoon the yogurt sauce over the manti and drizzle each serving with the hot pepper oil.

 

afiyet olsun

a little sandwich

Toasted plain bread, square sausage, a fried egg and tattie scone.

A thoroughly decent sandwich, an unmistakeably good start to the day, something I call a little bit of home.

Of course there isn't really a recipe for this, there surely doesn't need to be, it is pure assembly and totally interchangeable. That said, I'm not swapping out or replacing with anything for anybody this time round.

With great sadness, I'll be leaving Scotland in a couple of days, only for a while though, and not without some ingredients I'm going to struggle getting my hands on outside the country.

Home never escapes you, there will always be something taking you back. Even as the years pass, there will always been something, even if it is just for something so utterly simple as an outstanding sandwich.

 

a little plate of haggis

Coming home

 

There's always a really good reason for doing it, sometimes it is with an unnecessary sadness attached, I wish it wasn't the case more often than not.

 

Haggis never really was something we grew up with, it wasn't an often sight or taste at mealtimes, and it honestly doesn't actually come across all that Scottish with me. It is utterly delicious though, and being fairly absent from my younger days, is now a bit of a treat now.

 

Try making a haggis just the once, and once only. All other times buy well and concentrate on making brilliant mashed potatoes and buttery, black pepper spiked neeps.

 

Haggis

 

1 sheep's stomach, thoroughly cleaned

The liver, heart, and lights (lungs) of the sheep

1 lb beef suet

2 large onions

2 tblsp salt

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

1/2 tsp allspice

2 lb dry oatmeal (the old-fashioned, slow-cooking kind)

2-3 cups broth (in which the liver, heart and lights were cooked)

 

You'll need a large spaghetti pot, 16 to 20 litre size with a lid to fit it; meat grinder; cheesecloth.

 

If the butcher has not already cut apart and trimmed the heart, liver and lungs, do that first.  It involves cutting the lungs off the windpipe, cutting the heart off the large blood vessels and cutting it open to rinse it, so that it can cook more quickly. The liver, too, has to be freed from the rest. Put them in a 4-quart pot with 2 to 3 cups water, bring to a boil, and simmer for about an hour and a half. Let it all cool, and keep the broth.

 

Run the liver and heart through the meat grinder. Take the lungs and cut out as much of the gristly part as you easily can, then run them through the grinder, too. Next, put the raw beef suet through the grinder. As you finish grinding each thing, put it in the big kettle. Peel, slice and chop the onions, then add them to the meat in the kettle. Add the salt and spices and mix.

 

The oatmeal comes next, and while it is customary to toast it or brown it very lightly in the oven or in a heavy bottomed pan on top of the stove, this is not absolutely necessary. When the oatmeal has been thoroughly mixed with the rest of it, add the 2 cups of the broth left from boiling the meat.

 

See if when you take a handful, it sticks together. If it does, do not add the third cup of broth. If it is still crumbly and will not hold together very well, add the rest of the broth and mix thoroughly. Have the stomach smooth side out and stuff it with the mixture, about three-quarters full. Sew up the openings. Wrap it in cheesecloth, so that when it is cooked you can handle it.

 

Now, wash out the kettle and bring about 2 gallons of water to a boil in it. Put in the haggis and prick it all over with a skewer so that it does not burst. You will want to do this a couple of times early in the cooking span. Boil the haggis gently for about 4 or 5 hours. If you did not have any cheesecloth for wrapping the haggis, you can use a large clean dishtowel. Work it under with kitchen spoons to make a sling with which you can lift out the haggis in one piece. You will probably want to wear lined rubber gloves to protect your hands from the hot water while you lift it out with the wet cloth. (You put the dish cloth in the pot only after the haggis is done; you do not cook the towel with the haggis as you would the cheesecloth.)

 

Note: Even if the butcher has cleaned the stomach, you will probably want to go over it again. Turn the stomach shaggy side out and rinse. Rub it in a sink full of cold water. Change the water and repeat as many times as necessary, until the water stays pretty clear and handling it does not produce much sediment as the water drains out of the sink.

 

four birthday cakes and great sushi in Istanbul; everything's possible

If you don't expect it, you won't be blown away buy it. If you're not going looking for it, you really can't predict how you'll react to it. Really really good ethnic foods can and do sometimes travel outside of their comfort zone, and if we then declare the food in question here is Japanese, then this makes a wee discovery like this all the more remarkable.

 

The very best sushi I've ever had was in a place called Midori at the back end of an obscure shopping mall in Shibuya, where absolutely everything eaten was total heaven. Their sea urchin I can still remember today. The massive queue for a table was testament alone, and the fact it was in a location easily forgotten meant the treck there my the masses of fans made perfect sense after only those first couple of morsels. I do get a kick out of being the only non local in places like that, and to stand out from the crowd simply because its a local sensation makes it all the better.

 

Fast forward a few years and I'm in Istanbul, a city of no limits, no fears and no decent drivers on the roads! The well worn one foot in Europe, one in Asia tag couldn't be more clear as the city is a heady mix of absolutely everything international that you could imagine. And the passion...oh boy, now there goes a city leaking the stuff all over the place. They love their families, their fanatism for their football is like few other places on earth (and that is Glasgow included) tea is drunk like it's about to be wiped from the face of the earth (the very best is likened to the colour of rabbit's blood, but that's another story), and they drive their cars like they are all in indestructable bulletproof missiles. Oh yes, and they love their food. The very social aspect of it in particular. It is all very animated, social, loud and utterly energetic.

I'm actually writing this in Bangkok on my way back to Hong Kong, but my departure meal last night before I headed to the airport was a proper full on double header of tripe. A soup which was slightly milky and loaded with strips of tripe and some other bits of indsides, albeit a bit bland until it was then loaded with a ton of minced garlic and a sharp chilli sauce clearly meant to bring tears to the eyes. Follow that up with a brilliantly unexpected  tripe sandwich. You know the ones where you're not even half way through it when you want to order another two just incase they sell out. Think strips of stomach lining rolled up into logs about the size of a good fillet of beef and spit roasted over open coals until its charred and sticky. Sliced, chopped and re-fried on a griddle with chilli, peppers, onions and loads of local herbs. Stuff all that fatty crunchy spicy wonderment into a bread roll both crispy on the outside and chewy within and we're sorted for some time to come. Unbelievably good, and I'd go back to Turkey for this alone.

 

Anyway, the Japanese food. If you ever happen to be in Istanbul and in search of really really good sushi, I'd seriously reccommend tracking down Itsumi at İşkuleleri Kule 2 Giriş Katı No:43 4.Levent. In my humble opinion, this was the best all round Japanese food that I've eaten since Tokyo.

 

With Itsumi they seem to really know what they are doing, they keep the product true and un-fussed while concentrating on ensuring true flavours, textures and temperatures are at the forefront of everything they do.

 

The Miso soup was delightful. Nothing more than was needed, although personally I like a little red miso paste and maybe a bit more tofu in mine. The Unagi and Horse Mackerel were superb, texture wise was as good as it gets, and the subtlety of seasoning very good indeed. The sauce with the Unagi was just right for me.

 

Tepmerature of all pieces on the sashimi plate were perfect. The Otoro (I think it was Otoro due to the incredible fat content and as such being served so much colder, and it was incredible) the Scallop and the Uni in particular were very good, and the temperature of their rice was perfect, seasoning very very good and the quantity of wasabi on their Nigiri was superb. The Toro alone was one of the best single things I’d eaten all week until I discovered the tripe roll!

 

The birthday cake too was absolutely perfect, and as it was one of four I was incredibly lucky to have, I could afford to be choosy... If Istanbul is a bit of a hike for something Japanese, a comfortable miso soup might still hit the spot wherever you are.

 

Miso soup for a quiet moment of reflection

 

Enough for 4

4 cups water
1 1/2 teaspoons dashi granules
1/2 cup red miso paste
1 tablespoon dried seaweed (for miso soup), soaked in water
1/2 cup cubed tofu
2 tablespoons chopped green onion

 

Pour the water into a pot and bring to a boil. Add the instant dashi and whisk to dissolve. Turn the heat to medium-low and add the tofu. Drain the seaweed and add the seaweed to the pot. Simmer for 2 minutes.

 

In the meatime, Spoon the miso paste into a bowl. Ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot dashi broth into a bowl and whisk with chopsticks or a whisk to mix and melt the miso paste so that it becomes a smooth mixture.

 

Turn the heat off, add the miso paste to the pot and stir well. Top with green onions and serve immediately.