Kitchen newbies, do not despair

I've just realised something quite startling - I haven't cooked pasta in months. This rather humdrum fact may not seem particularly noteworthy but I'm tingling all over with pride and a sense of accomplishment. This is a momentous turning point in my adventure with food; it might just be safe to say that I have progressed from complete kitchen novice to something of an amateur cook.

This may not be true for everyone but pasta dishes are a pretty common starting place for the kitchen newbie. Quick, easy, cheap and versatile, pasta is the perfect staple with which to develop simple cooking skills without accidentally topping yourself off. Of course, there are many pasta-based dishes that are complex and technical. But, there is plenty of scope for those of us that find boiling a pot of salted water a challenge.

I began my cooking endeavours with pasta dishes and did not really divert from this path for quite a few years thanks to my mum who convinced me that I would cause great bodily harm to myself if I dared to attempt cooking meat or fish (all the while tempting me over to her home with succulent chicken drumsticks coated in a deliciously crispy coating).

However, I long harboured a deep desire to experiment with other cuisines. I desperately missed eating rice (the primary food staple of my childhood that took me an embarassingly long time to master how to cook) and had unintentionally become semi-vegetarian. In the end, I think that my stomach rebelled at the monotony of my diet and drove me to risk death by salmonella poisoning. I'm not sure how or when it happened but my diet completely changed. Now, it is unrecognisable; I eat everything but pasta. And, much to my mum's discomfort, I cook meat! More importantly, I survive.

The moral of my story is that if I can do it, anyone can. Kitchen newbies, do not despair - there is light at the end of the tunnel. Stick with the pasta and it will eventually take you to great culinary heights. I am actually looking forward to the day that I miss and crave pasta because that will mean I get to try a recipe from the newest member of my cookbook collection; The Silver Spoon, Italy's bestselling cookbook for over 50 years.

For now, here is a recipe for the ultimate pasta dish since a) it contains both meat and vegetables, b) it's fairly straightforward and easy to make and c) it doesn't take too long that it becomes a chore but is sufficiently long enough to make you feel like a 'real cook'.

Recipe:

Serves 4

Finely chop one small onion, one peeled carrot and one stick of celery (I use a mini food processor). Heat 2 tbsp butter and 2 tbsp olive oil in a large saucepan. When sizzling, add the vegetables and cook over a medium heat for 3-4 mins. Add 150g minced pork and cook gently for 2-3 mins, stirring with a wooden spoon to break up any lumps. Lower the heat and cook for a further 2-3 mins, stirring frequently. Add 4 tbsp dry white wine, 400g canned chopped plum tomatoes, a few fresh basil leaves, salt to taste and plenty of pepper. Bring to the boil and stir. Then, lower the heat, cover and simmer for 40 mins stirring from time to time.

In the meantime, cook penne pasta in boiling salted water (I use fresh penne pasta, which only takes 6 mins to cook). Prior to straining, add a ladleful of the cooking water to the sauce. Check the seasoning of sauce and adjust accordingly. Strain the pasta and add to the sauce, tossing well. Serve immediately with shaved parmesan cheese on top.

The vegan virgin

Butter fiend that I am, my general opinion of vegan baked goods has always been that they are rather like Schrödinger's cat i.e. best left in the box and out of sight. However, the powers that be would not have it so; the monthly cake club that I attend has unexpectedly evolved into a vegan cake club, effectively thrusting an opened box into my hands and forcing me to peek inside. What did I see? A world full of exotic-sounding ingredients, such as rice milk and xantham gum, in the place of my much-loved butter and eggs.

Undeterred, I decided to embrace the challenge of baking delicious vegan treats under the guidance of the Babycakes cookbook, which is based on recipes from the highly rated Babycakes vegan bakery in New York. The book is every bit as adorable as it's name and the pictures do a great job of convincing you that these vegan treats will be just as pleasing to your stomach as they are to your eyes.

True to myself, I took a bottom-up approach to the task at hand by choosing the simplest recipe in the book - raspberry scones. I happen to have a great fondness for scones, so much so that they are on my list of foods that I am not allowed to cook or buy as I have absolutely no self-control in their presence. So, I was quite excited by the prospect of learning how to make healthy scones that I can indulge myself in guilt-free. Unfortunately, this illusion was shattered the moment I set eyes upon one of the key ingredients; coconut oil.

Who would have thought that coconuts, typically synonymous with all that is natural and good for you, could be turned into what can only be described as the product of a liposuction procedure. Globular and dense, the oil had to be coerced out of the bottle with a knife, causing my arteries to shrivel up in panicked alarm.

More familiar and reassuring ingredients, such as agave nectar and raspberries, were thrown into the mix resulting in a batter that was not far off what the scones would look like were they to be eaten and regurgitated at a later time. Still, the kitchen was filled with a mouth-watering aroma as the offensive-looking blobs of batter baked in the oven, promising something spectacular and deliciously moorish.

Sadly, I was bitterly disappointed.

The tart flavour of the raspberries were inadequately complimented by the mild sweetness of the agave nectar causing me to scrunch up my face upon taking my first bite. Although, I have to admit that I may have added a tad too many raspberries in my zeal to counter the unpleasantness of the coconut oil. My tongue hopelessly searched around my mouth for additional flavours that did not exist in the cake part of the scone, which tasted like little more than plain bread and created a stodgy mass the more that I chewed it.

In defence of the scones, they tasted considerably better the next day. However, this might have something to do with the fact that I dolled them up by brushing them with agave nectar and sprinkling them with sugar. However, I won't be able to find out if they do indeed improve with age as my vegan cake club fellows devoured them all. I guess that one might consider the scones a success. Personally, I think that these scones would taste far better if the raspberries were done away with entirely and replaced with a couple of tablespoons of jam. But, I am not in the least bit inclined to experiment with this recipe. My first foray into this mysterious and creative world has left me wishing I'd remained a vegan virgin. Perhaps, a trip to New York's Babycakes bakery would change my mind...if that doesn't, nothing will!

Recipe:

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees and line a tray with baking paper. Whisk together 2 cups of spelt flour, 1 tbsp baking powder and 1/2 tsp salt. Add 1/3 cup of coconut oil, 1/3 cup of agave nectar and 1 tbsp of vanilla extract and stir together until a thick, slightly dry batter is formed. Pour 14 cup of hot water into the batter and mix. Using a rubber spatual, gently fold in 1 cup of fresh raspberries just until they are marbled throughout the batter. Scoop 1/3 cup of the batter per scone onto the tray, spacing them 1 inch apar. Lightly brush the tops with the coconut opl and bake for 14 mins, rotating 180 degrees halfway through. The finished scones will be golden and slightly firm. Remove from the oven and brush with the agave nectar. Let the scones stand on the sheet for 15 mins before transferring to a wire rack with a spatula and cooling completely. The scones can be kept for two days in an airtight containing.

My happy place

Dinner time is fast becoming my favourite part of the day. Dinner isn't my favourite meal, that would be breakfast. But, I love the feeling of coming home and losing every care and worry of the day in my kitchen.

I would be lost without food, literally. These past few months have been pretty tough for me and were it not for the joy of cooking, I think that I would have fallen to pieces by now. Not that I'm discounting the wonderful support and care that I have been lucky enough to receive. But, I'm talking about restoring my energy and replenishing my soul. When I feel battered and bruised by everything that has gone wrong in my day, frustrated by my shortcomings and overwhelmed by worries, stepping into my kitchen is the warm and loving hug that I desperately need. It doesn't even matter if I succeed in nothing more than creating a giant mess. I'm allowed to fail in my kitchen because that is where I feel most free. My utensils do not judge me and my cooker is incredibly forgiving. Plus, I keep a handy stock of delicious and immediate treats for such emergencies.

The build up of excitement begins on my journey home as I obsessively plan what I'm going to cook. I lose myself in the possibilities and get carried away with menus fit for a King. Before I know it, I'm chopping and seasoning and roasting and frying in a happy haze, bringing together a medley of flavours and textures in the hopes that I will create something unifyingly delightful.

Everyone needs a happy place and that's my happy place; in my tiny kitchen, chock-a-block with spices, olive oil and bags of flour, filling my home with the aroma of whatever my imagination happened to conjure up that day. Today, it was salmon fillet, coated in olive oil and lemon juice with pink Himalayan salt crystals and slithers of ginger rubbed in for good measure. Sometimes, the hardest days end with the tastiest food.

Recipe:

Preheat oven to 180 degrees. Wash two salmon fillets and pat dry with kitchen tissue. Place on a baking tray covered with foil. Pour enough lemon olive oil to coat (approximately 2 tbsp) and juice from 1 lemon. Sprinkle 1 tsp pink Himalayan salt crystals and grind everyday seasoning (mixed pepper) on top. Gently rub the oil, juice and seasoning on to the salmon fillets so that they are evenly coated. Peel a piece of ginger (approximately 2cm cubed) and thinly cut into slices. Place the slices on top of the salmon fillets. Cover the tray with foil and place in the oven for about 25-30 mins. When cooked, remove the slices of ginger and serve with some of the juice poured on top.

A lesson is learned

Darn that Mary Berry, she has lead me astray! I should have known better than to remove the baking beans halfway through baking my fourth (yes, fourth!) attempt at making a pastry shell. But, I foolishly followed her instructions and what looked to be a promising tart that ticks all the right boxes (i.e. a smooth and golden pastry that doesn't come away from the sides of the pan) is now as dimpled and flawed as a pubescent boy's face. I feel like the lumps and bumps are laughing at me.

Still, I remain unperturbed and determined - perfecting my pastry shell-making skills is the key to unlocking a plethora of tarts, pies and quiches that taunt me from the sideline. A recipe will be posted as soon as I get this right. In the meantime, onwards and upwards!

Let's get ready to grumble!

It has recently been brought to my attention that most of my posts are 'incredibly glowing and complimentary', which may have left you with the false impression that I lead the charmed and blessed life of a New York Times food critic who dines daily at Michelin Star restaurants (no such luck).

Having given this unconscious and peculiar behaviour some thought, I have come to the conclusion that writing about food that you don't like the taste of is rather difficult and problematic since you are required to eat the food that you don't like the taste of. Ergo, a conundrum is born.

Furthermore, I have a pinch too much of pride to indulge you in every single one of my cooking disasters and failures (yes, there have been more than just the Chelsea Buns), which would have served as the perfect bouillon for posts of a more critical nature. The next fiasco will have to be catastrophic and entirely not my fault in order to be turned into words for the world to enjoy.

Saying that, I have decided to revive an old challenge of mine that is sure to produce grumbles and scathing remarks by the bucketfull: several years ago, I took it upon myself to cure my tastebuds of their aversion to certain foods, including coffee, strawberries, oranges, kiwis (basically, any fruit that is remotely 'hairy'), lamb and Indian cuisine, by continually forcing myself to consume these foods. I won the battle (if one can win a battle against themselves?) and have enjoyed my war spoils ever since.

This approach is aptly described by Jeffrey Steingarten (food critic for Vogue) in The Man Who Ate Everything: 'scientists tell us that aversions fade away when we eat moderate doses of the hated foods at moderate intervals, especially if the food is complex and new to us.' Essentially, I trained my tastebuds to like the foods that I hated.

I can't say that my stomach is entirely enthused about this project. For once, we are not quite resonating at the same frequency with one another. But, I am determined that no food shall undermine me. If possible, I want to like absolutely everything so that I can enjoy absolutely everything. In that vein, I am going to tackle two particular food foes; papaya and chilli con carne (waves of resistance shudder down my spine at the very thought!).

It has been a while since I have eaten a papaya (an exotic fruit for those of you who don't know) so I can't remember the taste. No doubt, I was so traumatised by the experience that my brain has tucked that memory away into an unused sulcus. Chilli con carne (a spicy minced meat stew containing kidney beans), beloved post-drinking snack of America, has a pervasive smell that I find utterly repulsive (it is the Fran-repellent). If the nose says no, it's not coming near my mouth.

I'm not sure how papaya can be made more appetising aside from completely masking the taste with something else. So, I will just have to brute force my way through that challenge. But, you may have a chilli con carne recipe that you swear by, which I will gratefully try out (just post it in the Food Forum). It's possible, only just possible, that I have unfortunately come into contact with bad chilli con carne. That would be a pleasant surprise.

Let's get ready to grumble!

Have you had your Weetabix?

A life without Weetabix is a life not worth living. It is the reason why I forsake the cosy cocoon that is my bed and brave the cold and gloomy morning. Like rocket fuel, Weetabix propells me through the day. Each warm and velvety spoonful spreads ripples of contented well-being throughout my entire body leaving me rejuvenated and ready for anything. It is the breakfast of a true warrior.

Hot and frothy milk with a swirl of sweet honey transforms these innocuous nuggets of wholegrain wheat into a steaming bowl of thick and foamy goodness. I don't believe in chewing first thing in the morning. Weetabix fulfills this decadent desire. It oozes down my throat and sits in the pit of my stomach radiating a pleasant heat like logs of wood in a fireplace.

Texture is the Prima Ballerina whilst taste and smell are the supporting dancers. It has crudely been likened to the gruel in the tale of Oliver Twist. But, I believe that it's powers of comfort are immeasurable. Stomach aches, hangovers and the blues, Weetabix can cure anything. This is more than just a breakfast, it's medicine for the soul.

So, have you had your Weetabix?

An ode to Williams-Sonoma

Williams-Sonoma

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Of a perfectly cooked soufflé.
For the sexy gadgets and gourmet food.
I love thee to the level of every cook's dreams
By sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as cook's strive for mouthwatering flavours.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise-filled diners.
I love thee with a food passion put to use
In my cooking failures, and with my childhood memories
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost idols, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Williams-Sonoma is the dreamiest cooking store known to yours truly. Much to my chagrin, there aren't any stores in the UK. But, the online store will leave you wondering where the day went as you browse through page after page after page of beautifully crafted bakeware, ingenious gadgets and irresistible foods. Currently, this is my favourite product on offer - is it not ravishing?! Happy shopping!

A disciple of the kitchen

I have a special talent for eating that has been lovingly nurtured and cultivated by my parents from the day that I was born. Unfortunately, cooking is a skill that I have had to painstakingly develop on my own. My parents are fiercely territorial; like large cats marking their domain with their scent, my childhood kitchen was off-limits. It was my job to consume, not to produce.

But, perserverance has paid off. My continual passion and devotion to food and cooking has recently elevated me to a level worthy of secret recipes, specialist advice and personal kitchen demonstrations. I feel like I have been admitted to the 'popular group' at school. Finally, I have become a disciple of the kitchen.

Currently, parental wisdom has taken the form of salad recipes, which is fortunate since the Sun is tantilisingly poking his nose out from behind the clouds, giving the (false) impression that Summer has arrived. The beauty of these recipes (which can be found in the Food Forum) is that they are very simple to make yet healthy, filling and flavourful.

Grapefruit salad with pan-fried fish created an excting medley of tangy, sweet and salty flavours in my mouth that were reminiscent of a tropical ocean. Each bite took me on a journey through juice-filled slices of grapefruit, crisp lamb's leaf lettuce, silky pieces of fish and capers bursting with flavours of the sea.

Grilled chicken with a pepper and cucumber salad dazzled me with a host of vibrant colours. Fresh, high-quality ingredients, such as super-sweet cherry tomatoes and homegrown herbs, maximised the flavours and created a Mediterrean garden on my plate.

Hopefully, the Sun will keep his hat on so that I can continue to play with my newly bestowed salad recipes. Otherwise, I have no doubt that wisdom will take on a new and equally delicious form for me to experiment with. If you have any wisdom of your own, please share it in the Food Forum.