Winter Skies, Kitchen Aglow

I had intended on beginning this post with a note on using food a safe mechanism for escapism, but upon taking photos, I realised this was not to be. I have run out of the necessary batteries for my camera. I will rectify the situation this week, but it means that today's photos are taken with an aparatus whose results are uninspiring at the best of times: the web cam. So, I find myself beginning the post with an apologia for the visuals.

Now, that the depressing stuff is out of the way, and perhaps more of a reason to transport oneself, though in this instance it would be preferable to have the real-life escape instead of a sensory or virtual one, allow me to point out what is probably evident to regular readers: I use food to escape. This is not to say that I do not appreciate living in the moment, I do, but it often transpires that I use food to create moment, to impart an energy. When creating a menu, what is often the great fun is creating a link between the courses, to have each dish speak to those preceding or following it. It is a great learning opportunity to understand the possibilities of many an ingredient. In fact, when I create a menu, I sometimes have just one ingredient in mind, and I like to see what I can do with it - of course, I am aware of overkill and make sure it is not the star of every single dish, for that gets tired. And most people don't care that much anyway; they just want to be fed.

When I want to escape, I head for my bookcase of cookery books, which functions as a stone-front fireplace would in the coldest, snowiest of Winters. This weekend looks like Winter, but, thankfully, it isn't yet unbearably cold. It is in this subtropical storm that I get the best of both worlds: moderate temperatures and grey, wet skies. While not quite willing to swap polos for turtlenecks, I am showcasing two of a myriad of ways with one of my favorite Summer foods: yoghurt. (Of course yoghurt can be made year-round; I just tend to crave it in the Summer more than any other time of the year.)

With my dabbling into Middle Eastern cookery, I have found yoghurt to be a kitchen staple. Often it is used as a marinade, a dipping sauce, or as a thirst-quencher. While not nearly as familiar with the myriad of Indian cuisines as I am with those of the Middle East, I am becoming increasingly inquisitive about the food preparations of this vast subcontinent, the world's largest producer of spices. A perfect way to counter heat with its cooling effect on the palate is raita, an Indian condiment. It accompanies spicy Indian dishes, grilled meat, and it also makes a great dip for pita or naan chipes.

To this dip, feel free to add as much mint or cucumber as you prefer. You could also add onion and garlic, or you can swap out the mint for coriander. Instead of dusting it off with a little chilli powder, I added a sprinkling of my favourite spice, sumac, which has a citrus-spike that pairs well with cumin.

Cucumber and Mint Raita
(Closely adapted from Anjum Anand's Indian Food Made Easy)

1 cucumber, about 12 1/2cm/5" in length
1 1/2 tablespoons mint, chiffonade
300g/10 fl.oz nautral/plain yoghurt
3/4 teaspoon cumin seeds, toasted and ground
a pinch of sumac

1) Peel the cucumber and grate it coarsely.
2) Squeeze the excess moisture out of the grated cucumber. (I did this by wrapping the jade-coloured strands in kitchen paper.)
3) Place the grated cucumber into a bowl with the mint and gently mix together.
4) Fold in the yoghurt.
5) Fold in the cumin.
6) Sprinkle sumac on top.

For a mildly sweet hit for afternoon tea, I am partial to moist cakes made with yoghurt. What I love most about them is that the cake itself can be made simply, allowing for the chosen syrup to be the great carrier of flavour, which means that no matter what your mood on the day, the cake-making part is a no-brainer. The only thing to bear in mind is that Greek yoghurt is a little thicker than most and has a slight tang, which I prefer, so it is something to be mindful of when deciding what syrup to make. If you do not prefer a tangy yoghurt, then choose plain/natural instead of Greek or Greek-style yoghurts. The other great thing about this particular cake is that it alleviates one of the creaming of butter and sugar, which is often necessary for baked goods. It is something I don't particularly enjoy doing even though I understand the necessity of it. Also, the less eggs there are to break, the better. I've made hundreds of cakes and muffins, and there is nothing I hate more than breaking eggs...it is always such a task for me (and yes, I've read up on various methods to break eggs easily and cleanly).

The syrup is taken from a Diana Henry recipe. It is rather ingenius because it means one can leave out the brandy from the cake base - it seems to be a common ingredient in Greek yoghurt cakes. The addition to reduced coffee, though, does not leave a brandy-flavoured syrup, but simulates that of walnuts in liquor, which is what some Turks use in their yoghurt cakes. In this way, you get the ultimate blend of both Greek and Turkish approaches to yoghurt cakes (as opposed to the Italian and Middle Eastern ones that also often use semolina, which I didn't think I had on hand, but I did - only I found out too late).

Greek Yoghurt Cake with Coffee and Brandy Syrup

For the cake:
1 cup Greek yoghurt
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon icing sugar

1) Line and grease a 25cm/10" springform pan.
2) Preheat oven to 180 C/350 F.
3) Gently combine yoghurt, eggs, sugar, vanilla extract and vegetable oil in a bowl.
4) In a separate bowl, sift together the flour and baking powder.
5) Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet, ensuring the batter is smooth.
6) Bake for 35-45 minutes, until a skewer or toothpick pierced into the centre of the cake comes out clean.
7) Allow the cake to rest for 10 minutes before taking it out of the pan and resting it on a plate.
8) While it is still warm, pierce the cake with a toothpick and pour the syrup over.
9) Once the syrup has seeped into the cake, dust the cake with icing sugar.

For the syrup:
(Closely adapted from Diana Henry's Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons: Enchanting Dishes from the Middle East, Mediterranean and North Africa)

1 cup (8 oz) espresso
1/2 cup raw sugar
2 tablespoons brandy

1) Boil the hot espresso and sugar together.
2) Reduce liquid by half.
3) Remove from heat and add brandy.
4) Allow to cool before pouring over the cake.

I appreciate that the top of the cake is not too much to look at, which is why the dusting of icing sugar is a good idea, but the flavours and texture are wonderful. This cake is dense but light-tasting at the same time. Your unintiated guests will wonder what the ingredients are, for the syrup is incredibly complex and the underscoring tang from the yoghurt makes for excitement on the palate.

Labels: Afternoon Tea, Anjum Anand, Diana Henry, Greek, Greek yoghurt, Indian, Yoghurt

Also known as "Butter Chicken," many non-Indians are introduced to the vast cuisine of the subcontinent through this New Delhi creation. The most likely reasons for its popularity are that there is no over-powering heat and that all the spices are subdued by the yoghurt in the marinade and the butter in the final sauce. I cannot tell you how many orders of this a great friend and I have had over the years. Today the sassy sauciere queen Lily has gone to New York City for two weeks, and I took it upon myself to learn how to make this dish so that we can enjoy it from the comfort of the couch in front of Sex and the City re-runs when we next meet up.

I was also drawn to this recipe because I learned that it includes a spice that I have never used before: fenugreek seeds. I was really curious to know what this spice tastes like, and now I know: curry. Seriously. Most Indian curries I have tried (though I am no authority on the subject) have evident notes of fenugreek. If you have never had a curry and are waiting to lose your murgh makhani virginity, fenugreek is like maple syrup but with peppery hits.

It is an odd remark, but - of all places - I drew my inspiration from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book. Found in his "Fast Cooking" chapter, his recipe comes from Indian sisters-in-law. My angelheart Eric scoffed at the notion of this being fast cooking; he noted, acerbically, that this obviously does not take into account the amount of time to take and return the spice vials. That being said, the actual cooking time is brief.

I made a few changes to the ingredients. I omitted green chillies but will include them in parentheses should you wish to use them. I did not have any mixed spice on hand (also known as pudding spice), but substituted 2 teaspoons of it for 1/2 teaspoon each of: cinnamon, nutmeg, coriander, and ginger. I used lemon juice instead of lime, finding it less acidic and more compatible with butter and chicken. Finally, I reduced the amount of butter from 125g/4.5oz to 100g/3.5oz. This serves four comfortably.

Murgh Makhani
(Adapted from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book)

750g/1.6lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts

For the Tikka marinade:
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons plain yoghurt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons garam masala
2 teaspoons chilli powder
2 teaspoons ground coriander
2 teaspoons mixed spice (or substitute as above)
2 teaspoons ground fenugreek
2 tablespoons fresh ginger, grated
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons groundnut (or sunflower) oil
(2-4 green chillies, finely chopped)

For the tomato sauce:
2 x 400g/14oz tins of chopped tomatoes plus their juice
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
2 cloves garlic, crushed
(1-3 small green chillies, finely grated)
5 cloves
1 teaspoon salt
175ml/6 fl. oz water

For the makhani sauce:
100g/3.5oz butter
2 teaspoons ground cumin
Tomato sauce (as above)
2 teaspoons tomato puree
4 teaspoons honey
150ml/5 fl. oz double/heavy cream
1 tablespoon ground fenugreek
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon ground black pepper

To prepare the chicken:
1) Mix the Tikka ingredients together in a large bowl.
2) Add the chicken to the bowl, rub Tikka in well.
3) Leave to marinate overnight or for about 6 hours.
4) Bring out of the fridge 30 minutes before roasting.
5) Preheat oven to 230 C/445 F.
6) Put chicken on a roasting dish with the marinade and cover with buttered foil.
7) Roast for 5 minutes, then turn down the heat to 200 C/390 F and roast for 20 minutes.
8) Once roasted, take out from oven and leave to rest.

To make the tomato sauce:
1) Put all the ingredients in a large pan and bring to the boil.
2) Once boiled, reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes.
3) Stir regularly. The sauce should thicken.
4) Push sauce into a bowl through a sieve, remember to include the sauce hanging on to the underside of the sieve. Discard remnants in the sieve.

To complete the makhani sauce:
1) Melt butter in a large pan.
2) Add cumin and let sizzle for 2 minutes.
3) Add the now-sieved tomato sauce.
4) Bring to a simmer, then leave for 5 minutes.
5) Add the rest of the ingredients.
6) Simmer gently, then stir occasionally until the sauce has thickened and is creamy, approximately 5 minutes.
7) Add chicken, which you can cut however you please; I cut mine into cubes.
8) Mix well and heat through, about 5 minutes.

While roasting the chicken, I made the tomato sauce. When the chicken was resting, I made the makhani sauce. Easily on the table within 45 minutes. I served the murgh makhani with a mound of plain boiled jasmine rice, but add whatever carbohydrate(s) you wish in order to soak up the brick-coloured sauce. Perfectly spicy to awaken one's tastebuds, and lusciously buttery to provide comfort and luxury.

Labels: Chicken, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, Indian