London for one, Part I: Hereford Road

Anyone who’s ever dined in a restaurant alone, knows that there’s a very fine line between feeling strong, confident and happy, and pathetically wall-flowerish. And it doesn’t take much to tip the balance. The way you are greeted when you walk in, the amount of time you have to wait before someone comes to take your drink order. Or, discovering you´re the only one in the room wearing jeans. Some things can be planned or researched, but for a large part, you'll just have to take your chances and hope that the solo dining gods are smiling down on on you and that your carefully planned lunch or dinner for 1 will work out well.

I haven’t dined solo that much, but still often enough to have had some bad experiences, awkward moments and feeling-very-sorry-for myself times. But when I was researching my London trip, I knew that the chances of eating well would be very small if I tagged along with the group for 3 days – so I decided to book myself 2 solo lunches at places that appealed to me and me alone.

My shortlist of not too stuffy, not too expensive, conveniently located, interesting places was soon down to 3: Hereford Road, St John, and Bocca di Lupo.

It was hard to choose between St John and Hereford Road (who share a similar cooking style – no surprise if you know that Tom Pemberton, chef at Hereford Road, used to work with Fergus Henderson at St John). But as I kept going back to the Hereford Road website, I noticed that the menu changed a couple of times a week. And every time I looked, there wasn’t a single thing on the menu that I did NOT want to eat.

So on Friday, fresh out of the Eurostar, I took the tube across town and arrived at Hereford Road just in time for my 12:30 booking.

The small kitchen is located right at the entrance of the restaurant, and opposite the kitchen is a narrow area with little banquettes that each seat 2 people. The restaurant was pretty empty (and stayed that way all the through lunch service, unfortunately) which means I also could have sat in the larger dining room, but I chose one of the little two-seaters instead so I could both watch out the window and watch the chefs.

Sadly, my menu choice was mainly guided by the fact that I was not really very hungry (and I never eat a large meal at lunchtime).

Salad of roasted Jerusalem artichoke, watercress and onion:


The Jerusalem artichokes were lukewarm and beautifully tender. The red onions were cooked (which was a good thing - I don+t like raw onions), and I think they were slightly pickled. Artichokes and onions were tossed with the green leaves in a creamy, mustardy vinaigrette. A very simple dish, but really good.


Next up was hake with fennel and green sauce. The hake was grilled to absolute perfection: cooked through but so moist and tender. The fennel was soft and sweet, and fish and vegetable were balanced by the salty, earthy green sauce that was spooned on top. Again, a really simple dish but so perfectly executed that it was a joy to eat.

I had already spotted the rhubarb dessert and there was no way I was going to pass that up. The rhubarb jelly was light and sweet with a hint of ginger, the rhubarb compote nice and tangy, the sorbet had a great rhubarb flavor. And while the sorbet had a little too many ice crystals, this was still a dreamy dessert for a rhubarb lover like myself: the cool slippery jelly, the cold sorbet, the room temperature creamy compote. I think I was smiling the whole time I was eating it.



I seriously considered getting the rhubarb Eton mess they had on the menu as a second dessert, but decided that would be too much.. really.

I had two glasses of a very nice white (Vermentino) with my lunch, and was floating on a little cloud of happiness as I spent the rest of the afternoon in Notting Hill - consequently spending way too much money at the Spice Shop and Books for Cooks (whatever am I going to do with that riduculously expensive jar of Grains of Paradise?)

But it was a good day, with the balance definitely tipped towards pleasure.. for one.

Ik heb groente nodig!

Even tussen de Londen verslagen door: een recept voor gestoofde bleekselderij.

Gisteravond aten we een diner van ´hapjes´ uit Londen: venison pie, fantastische kazen van Neal´s Yard - heerlijk, maar vandaag had ik een overweldigende behoefte aan iets groens, warms en zachts.

Dit recept is losjes gebaseerd op de gestoofde selderij uit Molly Stevens´ All about braising.

Gestoofde bleekselderij
bijgerecht voor 4 personen

1 struik mooie, stevige bleekselderij
2 flinke sjalotten, gesnipperd
2 tenen knoflook, gesnipperd
een stukje winterpeen van 100 gram, in kleine blokjes
20 gram boter
1 eetlepel olijfolie
een snuf gedroogde tijm
een scheutje droge sherry of witte wijn
250 ml. lichte kippenbouillon
zout en peper


Was de bleekselderij en snijd de stengels in drieën. Bewaar het ´hart´, het deel van het struikje dat eigenlijk alleen uit blaadjes bestaat.

Verhit de boter en olie in een braadpan met deksel. Bak hierin op laag vuur de wortel, sjalot en knoflook, met de tijm, tot ze glazig worden (een minuut of 10). Leg de stukken bleekselderij er bovenop. Bestrooi met zout en peper. Sprenkel de wijn of sherry erover, en giet de bouillon erbij. Doe het deksel op de pan en stoof op zo laag mogelijk vuur tot de bleekselderij heel zacht is (ongeveer een uur). Neem het deksel van de pan, draai het vuur hoog en laat het kookvocht bijna helemaal inkoken. Snij intussen het selderij hart fijn en doe dit erbij. Schep om en bak nog een paar minuten (er moet wel wat kookvocht overblijven, het mag niet te droog worden).



Serveer zo, als bijgerecht bij vlees, kip of vis. Of doe de selderij over in een ovenschaal, bedek met broodkruim en Gruyere, en laat in de oven een kwartiertje gratineren. Dat laatste doe ik denk ik morgen met de restjes - vanavond eten we de bleekselderij als bijgerecht bij het laatste stukje van de venison pie.

London for 14: dinner at Konstam

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My London weekend was filled to the brim with gorgeous food and lovely restaurants. I had 2 truly great lunches on my own (more abut those later), but, after all, this was a group trip, and I had planned one dinner for all 14 of us to eat together. Arranging this wasn’t easy (especially because I only started thinking about it one week in advance), but someone on Chowhound directed me to Konstam – a place I never would have found on my own, no matter how long I’d googled. The menu looked interesting, it was within walking distance of our hotel, the owner was extremely friendly and cooperative when I called – so Konstam it was.

The room is gorgeous and very unusual, with huge, beaded light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, and turqouise floors and walls - creating an almost submarine-like atmosphere. You can see a picture of the dining room here – all my pics of the interior came out blurry. I feel it took the servers some time to warm up to us but when they did, they were great – and I know that a large group is not an easy thing to handle on a busy Saturday night!



They had suggested putting us in the private dining room, but I thought that would be a bit boring, so we had 2 separate tables in the main dining room instead – which worked perfectly. With a group that size one large table doesn’t make much sense anyway, since there’s no way you’ll be able to communicate with everyone, so having 2 tables (and switching seats sometime during the evening) is a much better way to go.

Konstam’s food philosophy is interesting and unusual – from their website: "over 85 % of the produce used in the Konstam kitchen is grown or reared within the area covered by the London Underground network". This could easily turn into a gimmick, but in the hands of owner and chef Oliver Rowe, it doesn’t. When you look at the menu you see locally raised pork, chicken and lamb, seasonal vegetables like chard, kale, turnips, beetroot and parsnips. Because of the localness and seasonality, the food has a decidedly Northern European feel – lots of things like sour cream, dill and caraway, spätzle, pierogi’s and pies - but it´s not heavy or stodgy, and very far away from the blandness that´s still too often associated with British food.

We had a limited menu to choose from, which is the downside of group dining – it meant I couldn’t order the Mersey dab with nasturtium butter, or the rosehip sorbet –but really there wasn’t much to complain about the things I did eat:

Pigeon breast wrapped in home cured bacon with beetroot salad



Pan-fried lemon some with mushroom clam sauce and sprouting broccoli

The pigeon was delicious – the meat was extremely rare but so mellow and tender, a great combination with the salty bacon and the sweet earthy beetroot (btw, another excellent example of how well beetroot and bacon go together). I tasted some of the house smoked mackerel and the Jerusalem artichoke soup, and they were both very good.




Charcoal grilled Amersham pork chop with glazed turnips, mustard and Russian salad

The pork was exceptional – maybe the juiciest and most flavorful pork I ever had, and the glazed turnips were also delicious – they made want to go to the market and buy turnips, which isn’t a feeling I often have. My sole was good, maybe not as exciting as the pork, but because I had had eaten such a big lunch, I was still glad I chose it – the flavors were light and fresh.

Lemon posset with gooseberries was delightful and so British, and the selection of British cheeses was the perfect way to end the meal.

As a rule, I’m not a fan of group dining – I tend to lose myself in conversations and mingling, and then obsess about not doing the food justice. When the food is really good I feel I won’t be able to appreciate it, yet it has to be good enough to be able to stand up to the literal and figurative noise of the crowd. The food at Konstam did exactly that: you get excellent produce prepared with respect and care, nothing fussy or too fancy, just great flavors and interesting flavor combinations.

They have a nice wine list, but our adventurousness led us to trying a British white, and we ended up ordering a lot of bottles of it. As I’m looking at the drinks menu online, I regret not getting the 10 year old Somerset Apple cider brandy... maybe next time?

London, the place to be

I don´t know how it happened, but London kind of fell off my radar. The last time I was there, I went for 24 hours solely to see my beloved Patty Griffin in concert - and that was exciting, and I had a great time, but to be honest those 24 hours could have passed anywhere as long as Patty was singing for 2 of them.

I love England and anything British almost as passionately as I love America. It´s a very different kind of love, and it would take me a long time and a lot of words to try and describe exactly how these loves are to be compared. For now, let me just say that the sight of an English landscape, the picture of an English village, makes my heart sing in a way that no Tuscan hill or Alpine rock can achieve. There´s something about it that suits me, that speaks to me in a way no other country does.

Why had it been so long since I visited? The psychological barrier of the sea that divides us - no longer true, now that the Eurostar zaps you to London in a little over 5 hours. And oh, yes, it´s so terribly expensive. Except it isn´t, at least not right now.

I was in London this weekend for 3 glorious days and I had some of the best food I´d had in months, met some of the nicest people, had some of the best serveice, went to what may be the best food market period . And all the while, I was wondering why it had been so long, and all the time, I was plotting how I can go back as soon as possible.

Full report on all my culinary experiences to follow.

Cowboy, take me away

Ik heb heimwee naar Amerika.

Waarom, weet ik niet precies.

Ik hou van Amerika, van Amerikaanse schrijvers, van het eten, van de media, de films, het landschap, de mensen, de steden, de cultuur, de sfeer. En nee, ik hoef me niet te verantwoorden door te gaan vertellen hoeveel ik óók van Jane Austen hou, en van Italië, en van sudderlapjes, en Nigella Lawson, van Duitse bossen en Nederlandse stranden en Scandinavische meren. Of door te vertellen dat ik er waarschijnlijk niet zou willen wonen, dat er natuurlijk van alles is aan te merken op het land (maar op welk land niet), en dat het geen Utopia is, geen paradijs.

Want dat is allemaal waar, maar vandaag heb ik heimwee naar Amerika.

En zeg nou zelf - als je deze plaatjes bekijkt, kun je me dan ongelijk geven?

Beach, Beets, Bacon

Another walk on the beach today. The sea looked very different from last time I was there - tempestuous and just a little bit scary. Fortunately there were also signs of spring:



At the post-hike-evaluation my friend and I started talking about plans for dinner, and for some reason the subject turned to beets. I said, enthusiastically:
"I love beets! Especially with bacon!"
"What did you say? Beans and bacon?"
"No, beets and bacon!"
"Where did you hear of such a thing? I´ve never heard of beets and bacon.- Did you just come up with that?"
"Ofcourse not. Beets and bacon, that´s a classic."
"Where. In space?"

Now, I tend to think highly of this person´s culinary opinions, but how can you NOT know about beets and bacon? And it´s not just the Dutch classic of bietjes met speklap I´m talking about - googling beets and bacon gives me 440.000 hits - granted, not as much as the 3 million I get for eggs and bacon, or the almost 900.000 for "beets and cheese", but still. Really not that crazy.

Anyway, I was inspired to keep the pumpkin, olives and onions that were waiting for me at home till another day (I had no idea what to do with them anyway), and went to the store.. for beets and bacon.

This salad is so good because of its excellent balance of flavors and textures. We have cool cucumber and hot potatoes, soft eggs and crispy bacon, sweet beets and peppery arugula. A mellow walnut oil/balsamic vinaigrette holds it all together.

When you´re in a hurry, you could fry the potatoes and bacon in different pans simultaneously - but I think it´s a good thing, flavor-wise and budget-wise, to fry the potatoes in the rendered bacon fat.



Warm Beetroot Salad, dinner for 2

2 medium beetroot, cooked, peeled and cut into wedges
100 grams smoked bacon
3 large floury potatoes, cubed
about a quarter cucumber, peeled and cut into matchsticks
2 handfuls of arugula
chopped chives, to garnish
dressing: 3 tablespoons walnutoil, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, half a tablespoon coarse mustard, salt and pepper
2 soft boiled or poached eggs, to serve

Slowly fry the bacon in a non stick pan until it´s crispy and the fat has rendered out. Lift out the bacon and drain on paper towels, leaving the grease in the pan. Fry the potatoes in this grease (add a little olive oil if there´s not enough fat), slowly, until brown, cooked through and crisp. Season the potatoes with salt.

Heat the beetroot in the microwave until lukewarm.

Divide the arugula among 2 plates, top with the potatoes, beetroot and bacon. Scatter the cucumber around the edges. Drizzle with the dressing, place the egg on top and sprinkle with the chives.

Sweet & Spicy Cabbage Soup

This soup (or soupy stew, because there isn't that much liquid) is one I made a little while ago from odds and ends in the fridge. It was one of those dinners that turned out unexpectedly wonderful, but because of the unexpectedness, camera batteries weren't charged and notes weren't written down and there was no blogpost.

Last night I tried to recreate it and it was just as good as the first time I made it - even better becauase of the last minute addition of mint and coriander.

Whenever I cook something 'Asian inpired' I repeat this mantra in my head : Hot Sour Salty Sweet Hot Sour Salty Sweet Hot Sour Salty Sweet. It's the title of a book I don't even own (but covet) (and the authors of this book also have a website that I haven't really begun to explore yet). But to think of these flavors really helps when you're looking for the right balance in Asian dishes. If you consider the 4 flavors as working together like a little symphony, where none of them really takes the central stage but they all tune in together to create a harmony, it's a lot easier to adjust the seasonings (in this case, Hot Sour Salty Sweet - chili, citrus juice, fish sauce, and cabbage). When using other vegetables I might add a bit of sugar, but because cooked cabbage is so naturally sweet, that wasn't really necessary.




Spicy Sweet Cabbage Soup
serves 2, with leftovers for lunch the next day

a piece of carrot, about 125 grams, cut into matchsticks
150 grams cabbage, shredded
750 ml chickenstock
1 tablespoon sunflower oil or other flavorless oil
200 grams lean miced meat (I used beef, but you could substitute chicken, turkey or pork)
1 large shallot, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 heaping teaspoon minced ginger
1 heaping teaspoon chili paste (I used sambal badjak)
a splash of soy sauce
1 tablespoon fish sauce
a squeeze of lemon or lime juice (preferably lime, but I still have 5 lemons lying around so that's what I used)
finely chopped mint and coriander, about 2 tablespoons
sriracha, to serve

Heat the chicken stock in a large pan. Add the carrots and cabbage and cook for about 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.
meanwhile, heat the oil in a small frying pan. When it's hot, add shallots and garlic and ginger. Cook for a couple of minutes until the soften, then add the meat, breaking it up with a fork while you brown it. When it's nicely browned, add the contents of the frying pan to the pan with the stock and cabbage. Also add the chili paste at this point.
When the cabbage is tender, add the fish sauce, soy sauce and lemon or lime juice, and a bit of salt. Taste, and adjust seasonings (chili, lemon, fish sauce, soy sauce) as necessary.
Just before serving, stir in half the chopped mint and coriander. Rinse the cooked noodles with hot water and pile them into 2 deep bowls. Spoon the soup on top, garnish with the rest of the mint/coriander, add a little swirl of sriracha and serve.

Slurping is mandatory.

Smoky Chili

OK, we could have been eating roast pumpkin leftovers and cucumber salad for a couple of more days, but yesterday I rebelled against ‘eating from the fridge’ and ‘budget shopping’. I had a sudden, real, unavoidable craving for something spicy and flavorful and hearty and meaty. In short, I wanted chili.

This would be a challenge in itself, because last week I discovered a colony of bugs in my dried chili supply and had to toss them all out – bugs, chiles, the whole lot.

It’s a good thing I’m going to London next week, where, I’m told, the Spice Shop sells all kinds of dried chiles (from smoky dried chipotles to guajillos).

But my meaty black bean chili could not wait until I replenished my chili stash so I had to improvise. The combination of chipotles in adobo, heady spices like cumin, allspice and coriander seed, smoked Spanish pimenton, and finally a garnish of crispy smoked bacon resulted in an unorthodox, possibly blasphemous, but excellent chili. It had just the kind of spicyness I was looking for: the spicyness that's warm rather than sharp, a spicyness that's more about deep strong flavors than about sudden heat.

Toppings included avocado, soft goats cheese, fresh coriander,cool cucumber, and crsipy smoked bacon (the third element in the smoky trinity). And I also made skillet cornbread!



Klary’s Smokin’ Hot Chili
serves 3-4

250 grams dried black beans
400 grams beef suitable for stewing
4 large onions, minced
3 large cloves of garlic, minced
1 teaspoon allspice berries
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1 teaspoon smoked Spanish paprika
1 small chipotle from a can of chipotles in adobo, cut up, and about 1 tablespoon of the adobo sauce
½ teaspoon oregano, preferably Mexican oregano (I had some that I bought at the farmers market in Santa Fe, it’s much more fragrant and spicy than European oregano)
About half a glass of wine, any color
A pinch of sugar
250 ml. pureed tomates from a can
250 ml light chicken stock
2 tablespoons of Turkish red pepper paste
Salt & pepper
Olive oil

garnishes: cubed avocado, soft fresh cheese or sour cream, something cool and crisp (cucumber, radishes), smoked crispy bacon.

Pick over the beans, rinse them, put them in a pan with water to amply cover. Bring to the boil, add a bit of salt, and cook over low heat until the beans are tender (it depends on the freshness of the beans how long this will take – probably an hour or 2).
Then, cut the beef into very (and I mean very) small cubes. Don’t be tempted to use ground meat for this dish: the hearty robust flavors demand the extra texture from the cut up beef.
Toast the coriander seed, allspice and cumin seed in a small frying pan until fragrant, then grind them to a powder in a mortar.
Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a Dutch oven. Season the meat with salt and pepper. When the oil is hot, brown the meat (I did not bother with doing this in batches - it's ok if it doesn't get really brown). When it has some color, add the onions and garlic and fry for 5 mionutes or so until the onions start to soften. Then add the spice mixture from the mortar, the smoked paprika, oregano, the miced chipotle and chipotle sauce, and the red pepper paste. fry all of this for a couple of minutes, stirring frequently.

Then add the tomatoes, stock, wine, and sugar. Bring to a simmer and cook over low heat for an hour and a half. While it's cooking, check that it doesn't get too dry - add some water if necessary.



If you started your beans before you started your meat, they may be almost cooked by now. If not, turn off the heat under the meat sauce, and wait till they are. Then, drain the beans and add them to the meat, and cook everything together for another hour.

You can eat it now, but it will taste better tomorrow.

Serve hot, and put bowls of the garnishes on the table for everyone to help themselves.

All in all, this wasn't really too expensive: about 7 euros for the meat and beans, and everything else came from the pantry/leftovers. We ate a lot and still had enough to put one huge portion in the freezer for another day.

Truffled away

How can you, my readers might ask, be on a budget challenge and have truffle risotto for dinner?

When Dennis sent out the invites for his birthday dinner, he specified that he did not need any gifts – but for people who did not want to come empty handed, he advised ´perishables´: meaning, no stuff that ends up in a closet never to be used/read/listened to, but things that can be enjoyed for a while and then are gone forever.

After all, stuff, we have enough of.

So he ended up with chocolates, some great wines, port, special teas, and whisky.

And this little thing:

It arrived in a polystyrene box, the kind that´s used to transport donated organs from one hospital to the other – and jokes about Dennis being in need of a new liver abounded. But on opening the lid it wasn´t a bloody body part on ice that he found, but a delicate brown morsel wrapped in straw, packed in plastic, that looked and felt just like a true winter truffle. Which is what it was, shipped all the way to Amsterdam from France, all 19.7 grams of it.

I spent a couple of hours trying to think of creative, original things to do with the truffle, and then decided that with great things, simplicity is always best. I did remember a previous truffle dinner (2 years ago, with a truffle we´d brought back from our vacation in Umbria, which, by the time I got around to cooking with it, tasted of.. absolutely nothing). Ofcourse I had faith in my friends but maybe not in every truffle seller, and even the slightest possibility of a disappointing dinner was too much for me yesterday. So I decided to make a risotto that would be good on its own, and hopefully, sublime with the truffle.

There are plenty of discussions floating around on how to cook with truffles. Some people say they need to be cooked with the rest of the dish to release their full flavour potential, other say they only need to be slightly warmed for optimal aroma, and yet others say that shaving the raw truffle onto the food gives the best result. Because this truffle did not have an overwhelming aroma when I opened the plastic bag, I felt that a little cooking wouldn´t hurt and would help to coax as much truffle flavor out of the 19.7 grams as possible.



I made a very simple risotto, with white wine and chicken stock and some sauteed chestnut mushrooms for textural contrast. About 2/3 of the truffle was added halfway through cooking the risotto, the rest just at the end (with a good glob of mascarpone for creaminess and richness). I saved a couple of paper thin slices to sprinkle on top, where they kind of melted in the warmth of the rice.

We sat down to a very good dinner. The risotto had musky, earthy, luscious undertones from the truffle, and it was very rich and creamy and delicious. But (and yes you could feel this but coming on didn´t you?) we weren´t blown away. Not the way you would expect to be blown away when you slice up an almost 20 gram truffle between the two of you. And I am sorry to say this, seeing that this was a gift and all, and don´t get me wrong, it was a truly delicious risotto (and would have been much less delicious without the truffle!), but we´re talking about food here people so I have to be really honest.

Truffles can be heavenly, this one was like drifting on a little cloud on your way to heaven.. and finishing your plate just before you get there. I wonder why this is? Is it really only possible to experience truffle-heaven in the country of origin? Although I must say I´ve had some fantastic truffle dishes in Dutch restaurants, too... could it be that it´s restaurant chefs who snag up all the best specimens?

Still, a cloud on its way to heaven... not a bad place to be on a Monday night, in the middle of Budget Challenge.

Nu nog lekkerder

Het eten was heerlijk zaterdag. Maar toch moet ik eerlijk zeggen, dat een dag van voorbereidingen en mise en place, en daarna een paar uur volle kracht vooruit hectische keuken activiteit, niet bijdragen aan de optimale omstandigheden om van eten te genieten. Ik proefde zaterdag dat het goed was, maar was toch eigenlijk te moe/opgewonden/druk aan het praten en drinken om het eten écht op waarde te schatten.

Daar zijn dan de kliekjes voor. Zojuist heb ik geluncht met het laatste restje bulgur pilaf (waar ik zaterdag niet eens een foto van heb gemaakt) en het was zo lekker, dat ik vind dat dit recept een heel eigen blogpost verdient.

Het is een aangeklede versie van deze bulgur met tomaten - daar noem ik de aubergine en kaas als optioneel.



Deze keer gebruikte ik geen gepureerde bliktomaten, maar een mengsel van half bouillon, half tomatensap. De tomatensmaak is dan wat milder, wat goed werkt als je er andere ingrediënten bij doet. Door de pilaf ging een aubergine, in stukken gesneden en met een beetje olie geroosterd in de oven tot de stukken gaar en goudbruin zijn, en blokjes gebakken halloumi. Veel verse munt, een snufje chilivlokken, een drupje balsamico azijn, en een beetje goede olijfolie eroverheen vlak voor het serveren.

Lang leve restjesdag.

Feest voor Dennis

Het was een mooi feest met, al zeg ik zelf, bijzonder geslaagd eten. Van de witlof met avocado en grapefruit en de gorgonzola poffertjes, via de Marokkaanse lams ´sigaren´ naar de kikkererwten pompoen salade met tahin dressing (naar dit recept, maar zonder de rode ui en koriander, en met toevoeging van een paar handjes geslonken spinazie), bulgur pilaf met aubergine, munt en halloumi, en de Kip Musakhan.

De kip was zo mogelijk nog lekkerder dan de vorige keer dat ik het maakte. Paula Wolfert beschrijft dit gerecht in haar The Cooking of the Eastern Mediteranean als ´a Middle Eastern village dish´ - en het is inderdaad een geweldig voorbeeld van creatief koken met beperkte middelen. De kip (gemarineerd in sumac en citroensap) is al verrukkelijk, maar eigenlijk is het het brood, waarop de kip gebakken wordt, wat de show steelt. De helft wordt knapperig, de andere helft is doortrokken van het sap van de kip en de gestoofde uien, en de smaak is zo rijk en complex dat je niet kunt ophouden ervan te eten. Ik at er zóveel van dat ik bijna geen plaats meer had voor het toetje.

Ook dat was een reprise - basbousa met kweeperen, kweeperen wodka siroop en mascarpone. Maar voor de gelegenheid een beetje opgeleukt: in plaats van gewone mascarpone mascarpone vanille ijs, en voor een structuur-contrast gecarameliseerde pistachenoten.

Er waren oude vrienden van ver en nieuwe vrienden van dichtbij, er waren ouderwetse balkon-rookpauzes en een nazit en très petit comite waarbij ik eindelijk mijn voeten op tafel kon leggen en de wat... pikantere levensvragen de revue konden passeren.

Vandaag hebben we het aanrecht geschrobd, afwasjes gedaan en de vloeren gedweild. We hebben restjes in de koelkast om nog dagen van te eten, genoeg wijn over om nog een poosje plezier van te hebben (hoewel ik daar nu even niet aan moet denken - doe mij nog maar een Cola light), en een heel bijzonder culinair cadeau om mee te experimenteren.. daarover morgen meer. Nu eerst even uitrusten en nagenieten.

Kip Musakhan
voor 4 personen
naar het recept uit The Cooking of the Eastern Mediteranean, Paula Wolfert

4 scharrelkippenbouten, gehalveerd
1 1/2 eetlepel sumac
1/8 theelepel versgemalen nootmuskaat
1/8 theelepel kaneel
1/4 theelepel gemalen zwarte peper
zout
sap van 1 citroen
4 grote uien, in ringen gesneden
125 ml. kippenbouillon
olijfolie
een rond plat turks of marokkaans brood (de dunne variant, dat is belangrijk)
geroosterde pijnboompitten en gehakte peterselie om te garneren.

Meng de sumac, nootmuskaat, kaneel, peper en zout met het citroensap. Doe de kip in een kom, giet de marinade eroverheen en masseer de marinade met je handen goed in alle kipstukken. Laat minstens een paar uur, maximaal een dag, marineren in de koelkast.

Doe de fijngesneden uien in een braadpan met deksel, samen met 1 eetlepel olijfolie, peper en zout, en de bouillon. Laat afgedekt stoven tot de uien zacht zijn (ca. 40 minuten).

Verhit de oven voor op 200 C. en breng de kip op kamertemperatuur. Kies 2 ovenschalen: één waar de kip straks in 1 laag in kan liggen, en een andere die eventueel kleiner kan zijn, als de kip er maar in past (desnoods in twee lagen). Smeer de grote platte ovenschaal of bakblik in met olijfolie. Scheur het brood in stukjes en leg dit op de bodem van de met olie ingesmeerde ovenschaal. Verspreid de gestoofde uien (inclusief vocht) over het brood.

Doe de kip in de andere ovenschaal, dek deze goed af met folie. Bak de kip 20 minuten in de voorverwarmde oven. (Om te voorkomen dat de kip aan de schaal plakt bekleed ik deze met bakpapier.)

Neem de kip uit de schaal en leg de stukken met de huid naar boven op de met brood en uien beklede ovenschaal. Zet deze schaal (onafgedekt) in de oven en laat nog zo´n 20-30 minuten bakken, of tot de kip gaar is en goudbruin.

Bestrooi voor het serveren met geroosterde pijnboompitten en gehakte peterselie.

p.s.: het recept voor de lamsvlees pasteitjes vind je hier. Ik gebruikte een mengsel van lamsvlees en rundvlees, en paste de kruiderij wat aan: gerookte paprika in plaats van gewone, meer komijn, en exra: gemalen korianderzaad en gemberpoeder.

Morning, after

Straks meer.