Black.Salt by Celine

2009-09-30T11:44:00.001+01:00

Images © Celine Asril

Homecoming

2009-09-25T12:15:00.005+01:00

The mountains looked dry, even the crop circles were brown. Surely it hasn't been this hot in these parts. We were above North Montana, twenty minutes away from our descent. As the plane began to push past the sky lines, the landscape began to change.

Fog thinned out into kale-green, reaching pine trees, as abundant and spread out as the towns that now came into sight. The sky was spotless blue, reaching far beyond the Sound. Never in my four years had I seen Seattle so clear, so fresh, so much like home.

We had dinner to celebrate Mummy A's birthday. I'm going out with C today, and B comes home tonight. I'm so excited I don't care if the only coffee I can get in town might be mermaid girl's.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

The New Porker

2009-09-24T04:54:00.018+01:00

I lived in a beautiful apartment in beautiful West Village. I ate. I supped in the East, brunched in FiDi, picnicked in Central Park and had late night grub in Koreatown. I ate. I hung out in the Upper West, and shopped on Fifth, in Soho and in fleas as close as Chelsea and as 'far' as Brooklyn. I ate. I weekended upstate in the Catskills and took the Chinatown bus to Washington, DC. I ate. I rode the subway, sometimes on the Express without realising - I blame it on the underground sunglasses. I ate. I hailed a cab or two but mostly walked the town. I ate. I bumped into celebrities on strolls, and knew someones who knew someones. I ate. I attended live music sessions, at the Lincoln, the 'Merc' and in the subways. I ate. I watched outdoor opera. I ate.

For a month, I was a true blue New Porker.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

2009-09-13T14:30:00.006+01:00

Images © Celine Asril

2009-09-04T23:40:00.000+01:00

Moonlit skies in the Catskills

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

2009-09-03T12:31:00.003+01:00

Image © Celine Asril

Dizzy Liberty

2009-08-30T23:32:00.003+01:00

The vibraphone shields the view, but only partially. The twinkling windows in the background extend much further than the legs of the instrument, creating a warm, worldly backdrop for the engrossed vibraphonist, Joe Locke. At Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola, he's playing with Trio da Paz and I'm watching him tap the keys with lithe vigor to the tunes of Antonio Carlos Jobim.

I'm in the city that never sleeps, the once-centre of the world, the town of skyscrapers and equally high dreams, of taco stands and hotdog vendors, of bars, restaurants and bistros, of honking yellow cabs and mine-shaft-like subways, of bridges and waters, of song, dance, musicals, commerce, and of jazz. Pure, adulterated, and unadulterated, jazz. I tap away as he does. I follow each and every furrow of his eyebrow, grunt to the beat, progression of the arms.

I'm in New York, at the Lincoln Centre, finally.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

2009-08-29T23:58:00.001+01:00

Image © Celine Asril

2009-08-26T07:11:00.002+01:00

Image © Celine Asril

City of Light

2009-08-08T14:10:00.005+01:00

There is still much to report on the South of France - beaches, diving, the farm and more food... But I am now in the famed City of Light, purveying croissants, macarons and thé; riding the velib around its bumpy cobblestoned streets; and perhaps later I will be having dinner at the Notre Dame. The Seine has been transformed into a city beach, complete with sunbathers, ice cream stands and live jazz jam sessions. She is indeed romantic, but whoever said Paris cannot be enjoyed with a bunch of good friends or on your own has not really seen the light.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

The Traveler's Sandwich

2009-07-26T23:40:00.010+01:00

Its name will ring a sound bell, but the mayonnaise might put off many. It is unfortunate as the Pan Bagnat's is extremely agreeable.

When made right, this Provençal sandwich is very light, fresh and only slightly moist - the mayonnaise is hardly conspicuous. The Pan Bagnat is made up of a round, hollowed, chewy ciabatta-like bread filled with niçoise salad ingredients. The ones in SouthEast France were made sans anchovies - in its place was a large politically incorrect helping of tuna.

This truly is a good travel sandwich, as long as it is kept out of the heat; even after a rustling three-kilometre walk, the salty-on-the-crust-sweet-on-the-in bread is not soggy, and the filling remains cool. Lessened greens and deseeded tomatoes keep it from turning into squish. Picnics on the beach are so much the better for it.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Joyeux Anniversaire

2009-07-25T01:36:00.004+01:00

Candles, icing, rolled sugar paste, gravity-defying designs - the birthday cake has definitely moved on to taller and grander confectionaries.

Not in the south of France.

The Tart Tropezienne is the birthday cake of this region. It is a naked custard-filled sponge cake: two 1.5cm-thick layers of sponge cake sandwiches a thick filling of creme anglaise or custard. On the top sits an even spattering of crunchy but not hard sugar crystals and a generous dusting of icing sugar. A small, oval-shaped chocolate with the name of the bakery, La Sirene, completes this one.

The cake should be served cold so that the creme anglaise can be enjoyed to its fullest. That also preserves the elasticity of the sponge cake so that you have chewy, smooth and crunchy all in one bite. If you get the chocolate as well (that, I suspect, is reserved for the celebratoree), you can add cocoa to the mix.

This is a light, joyous cake when the custard is not too sweet.

Boulangerie La Sirène
★★★★★☆☆ (for the Tart Tropezienne)
Place Jean-Pierre Daviddi, L'Ayguade, 83400 Hyéres
04.94.66.32.79

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

La Tour Fondue

2009-07-17T23:27:00.001+01:00

At the port from which boats leave for Ile de Poquerolles is an old fort known as La Tour Fondue. It was named for its resemblance to a piece of cheese being dipped into fondue - the bricklayered sides of this bastion echo thick cheese that creep up onto a piece of meat or bread as it is pushed into the pot. This warrants an entry into any book of "food places to visit" surely. I'd like to have a fondue party there.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Le Fougasse

2009-07-16T00:35:00.000+01:00

"We are going to have fougasse," said a frustrated C--. I wasn't about to decline - we had been traveling since 8am, both had no food in us, and were forced by Ryanair's incorrigible service to be adamant towards their food offerings. We almost gave in to a "flaming" cheese burger and a dry ham and cheese ciabatta. I'm glad we didn't - the fougasse is so much better.

C--'s mom had purchased the fougasse in the morning, from the bakery that sets up a collapsible stall outside their apartment. Breakfast is usually a bought affair in the south of France, particularly during the season of summer - croissants, pain au chocolate and plain or sugared brioche are available for a couple of euros. While you're at it, you also buy the breads for the day - a baguette and some fougasse, the latter "a specialty of the south of France," said C--. Provence to be exact.

The fougasse has a brioche-like dough, and is shaped like a wider, but shorter and flat baguette, with windows that allow you to peek in at its fillings. In the south, it is typically filled with tomatoes, cheese (possibly emmental - they like their emmental here) and herbs. I tasted oregano.

The sweet dough is thin, but not too thin, so that even after sitting for almost six hours, the dough is still capable of holding up the filling. The warm weather has no effect on it, neither reducing it to a soggy squish nor dry at this point. To warm it up, it can be placed in direct sunlight, but must be eaten immediately after.

It truly is an amicable bread, especially since it is equally easy to keep - leave it exposed or wrapped up in its paper bag, and anywhere on the kitchen counter.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Moving on

2009-07-16T00:17:00.007+01:00

The walls echo. I'm already starting to feel displaced, and I can see the homesickness coming onto me a month away. Perhaps this is why I've put off extended traveling for so long. Leaving London for good does not help matters either - packing up can be such a dreadful task.

Box No. 6

The emotions have yet to settle - there is hardly time to reminisce about the city I have called home for almost three years. Perhaps it is the stress of fitting everything into cartons, perhaps it's the impending flight out, or not knowing what the future would bring. It is most likely that, for the next while, I'll still keep coming back, finally using London for what it was supposed to be - a base for my travels.

I know it will hit once I reach the Motherland. But for now, I have the south of France to help put finalities off.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Chococo Cookies

2009-06-29T00:01:00.008+01:00

True to my procrastinating nature, it seems when life hands me exams, all I want to do is bake. Unfortunately Time will not permit me that indulgence, so here's a recipe I made a few weeks back:

I made these cookies for a special someone when he was feeling ill. I packed it up, shipped it across the world, and four days later he reported it tasted like it was baked just yesterday (we compared taste notes). It so happens it is his birthday today, so Happy Birthday Big Man!

Chococo Cookies
Recipe adapted from Crepes of Wrath
Makes approximately 40 4cm-diameter cookies
Prep time: 20 minutes
Cook time: 15-20 mins plus 5 mins cooling time

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tbsp cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup butter, melted
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup white caster sugar
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup roughly chopped dark chocolate
1 cup roughly chopped milk chocolate

1. Preheat the oven to 180ºC.
2. Combine the flour, *cocoa powder, baking soda and salt in a small bowl then set aside.
3. In another bowl, beat together the melted butter, brown sugar, white sugar, egg, egg yolk and vanilla until creamy.
4. Gradually add the flour mixture to the sugar mixture until just mixed.
5. Stir in the chocolate chips.
6. Roll into dessert-spoon-sized balls and place onto a greased or lined baking sheet/ wax paper. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until the edges look golden brown.
7. Cool on the baking sheet for at least 4-5 minutes (so cookies can set) before moving to a rack.
8. Consume in between sips of a cool glass of milk.

*For a "white" and "healthier" version, remove cocoa powder and add 1/2 cup oat bran.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Stretched Dusks

2009-06-28T01:21:00.005+01:00

You can tell it's finally here - the summer of the northern hemisphere. It is not the sticky, heavy air that jostles you into realisation, it is the way dusk is stretched into cotton-candy-striped skies.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Stage Cooks

2009-06-21T09:20:00.007+01:00

We hadn't expected to be up on stage in front of an audience, let alone one of 50. The thought of cooking in front of strangers and cameras had some of us working ourselves into nerves. They say the camera puts on ten pounds you know.

Naomi and Jan seemed to be the only calm ones among us. I took my glasses off and perched it on my head so I would look cool and collected. I was, in actuality, making use of my astigmatism - if I can't see the audience's expressions, I won't be able to notice their disapproval at my poor filleting skills.

It wasn't like I needed that extra filter though, the limited range of Ikea knives had all of us struggling with our pieces of sole - nothing less than complete attention is allowed when you have to fillet fish with a serrated knife. It didn't help that Sophie Michell was trying to cram two dishes into the short half hour she was alloted. Her speedy instructions had all of us scrambling to keep up.

With the help of a few assistants I managed to complete my dish in time - there was a gentle lady who was very deft at removing chilli stems; a dark, rugged-looking sous chef in a pin-striped apron who sliced a mean green mango; and a precious £700 Miele steam oven that had my seafood going from limpid to opaque in approximately three minutes. The Miele Cookery Experience was thus not too much of a scare.

Stage dishes which we later consumed: crab meat wrapped in fillet of sole, Thai green mango salad and scallops steamed in soy sauce

A bunch of us food bloggers had been invited by Forever Better, Miele's PR company, to the Summer BBC Good Food Show in Birmingham to get acquainted with their equipment. The steam oven is a mod-looking appliance with a clean and simple concept. I may not have personally used the oven (the gentle chilli lady was also my oven operator), but from the looks it, this steamer is an extremely precise element; once you've gotten used to the push and touch button controls and Navitronic Plus display, minimal effort would be required to operate it. Steaming buns do not have to be in a pot over boiling water anymore, although I think I will miss the fun in that ancestral method.

On an slightly unrelated note, I want one of Miele's washing machines - that is only if what the Miele guy said was true: the washing machines automatically weigh the load of the laundry and expend energy and water specific to each individual load. (I couldn't find this information on the website but I am certain that was what I heard.) If this was true I would no longer have to feel guilty every time I do my laundry, full load or not.

As for the Good Food Show itself, I found it a little disappointing. Naomi of 'Straight Into Bed Cakefree and Dried' gives a fitting account of my thoughts on it. To get a more well-rounded account of the event, click on to Anne, Jan, Jules, Nic, Sunita and Sylvie's blogs. For starters, they've got way more pictures than I do.

All Writing and Images © Celine Asril

Rosie's

2009-06-19T11:00:00.000+01:00

A Monmouth coffee would have been a more than fitting way to conclude our meal at Franco, but the pizza was beginning to settle into the ample shapes of our stomachs, and we still had some of Rosie's desserts to sample. It was so difficult to prevent the pizza from nesting that by the time we rounded the corner from Franco our girths were officially stretched to their limits. Which was just as well because I would have fought Rosie for her fresh-out-of-the-oven banana blueberry cupcakes that she deemed not ready until they had been fully rested and frosted. Another day perhaps.

Franco Manca

2009-06-17T13:11:00.003+01:00

★★★★★☆☆

We weren't sure if the floppy-haired Italian server said "that's life" or "that's alive" when we told him of the floater in our bottle of tap. Even the born-and-bred Italian in our group was unable to decipher. But the accented server took it away and quickly replaced it with a bottle that was clear. He may not have been smiling when he made the comment, but there was no over-the-top-Italian-hand gestures either. It must have been harmless.

His haste could probably have been attributed to the full capacity this pizzeria was operating on on this late Monday afternoon. At any other restaurant, the official lunch hour would have been safely cleared, but at Franco Manca you still had to wait for a table. You wonder: has Franco's reputation preceded itself or are those black and gold rounds of dough really that alluring it's got Brixton and beyond on their toes?

From the time were standing and what we were seeing, the latter must have been the case. The wait wasn't long - fifteen minutes tops - but judgment can be greatly coloured by hunger, strong wafts of burning wood and rising yeast, and vivid colours of tomato paste red, arugula green, and prosciutto pink. Majority was at stake when two of the five senses had been so easily bought over.

The taste test was less straightforward: all other factors held constant (everything was organic, including the sourdough bases, and each pizza combination comprised of all the food groups), the difficulty in the menu was not the number of choices, but the choices themselves. There were only six pizzas and a day's special to pick from so there wasn't that dilemma of which category to pick from - it was the dilemma of which combination you felt like committing your tastebuds to. One can, after all, only stomach so much pizza in a sitting.

So among us we decided to go full spectrum with a classic Margherita (£4.80, pictured above), a middle-of-the-range Napoletano (£5.70), and a full-blown daily special of bianca with artichokes, arugula, pecorino and speck ham (£5.50, pictured below). We also asked for extra shavings of ham all around (at £0.90 per portion, although we had understood the extra meat to be a complimentary option. It was the accent..). To celebrate our commitment we called for a bottle of house white (750 ml, £7.50).

Service was still eye-contactless, but this time the factors were almost purely internal - we were preoccupied with the fresh-from-the-oven puffs of dough, and our seats were so low to make eye contact would have been to look up and disrupt eye and nose concentration. So no one looked up. And no one spoke as we tore into our pizzas.

It wasn't until we were halfway into our pizzas that the Italian among us broke the silence. "This is good," she said, adding a half-concentrated "very good" to the end. Us two others nodded in agreement, but a slight frown soon appeared on my face. "It's good but, do you taste that?" "Taste what?" asked the only one who had not yet broken her muteness.

Our pizzas looked beautiful - slouchy but not flimsy dinner-plate-sized palette-shaped works of art. All three looked almost like little island-fortresses on plates; they had uneven speckled rims that, in the wood-fired ovens, had huffed and puffed to resemble breasts of songbirds. In the middle of mine was a marble of flaming orange sauce and white mozzarella doused with prosciutto, capers, olive, and anchovies. It looked brilliant. Underneath that brilliance however, it was charred.

The char wasn't overpowering, but present enough, and it was a presence that became more evident with every bite. It was only in my dough however; the dough of the Daily Special was slightly charred but it was unimposing enough to be able to ignore. It was a fitting amount of bitterness. The Margherita's dough was the most untouched of the three - soft and sweet, like freshly steamed naan bread. Once I sampled the two other pizzas, the taste of char in mine became more pronounced.

The wine helped, but not as much as the chilli oil; FM's tendentious choice of slightly vinegary organic white Cortese wine would have helped bring out the tangy flavours of the sourdough base, but it was the chilli oil that numbed away some of that singed pungence. It might have been fortuitous that we were in the heart of the Brixton African community, for Italian establishments with concepts as pure as Franco Manca would normally have chilli oils that barely touch the Scoville scale, let alone habanero peppers!

As soon as we were three-quarters way through, lunch turned cyclic: a heavy drizzle of chilli oil was followed by a bite of pizza, a sip of wine and then another small drizzle of chilli oil. It wasn't because the char was becoming unbearable - that was remedied by the oil - but that we were nearing our stomachs' capacity. We trucked along, too far along to warrant asking for a takeaway box, but too close to the end to give up the last few bites.

When we finally took our last bite, we sat, slumped deeper than our pizzas when they first appeared, and sighed in satisfaction. We smiled at each other in agreement. "That's life, " I mused. "No," corrected the Italian, "that's good life."

www.francomanca.co.uk
Unit 4, Market Row, London SW9 8LD, United Kingdom
(+44) 0207 738 3021
Monday to Saturday, 12pm to 5pm

Mornings, Saturdays

2009-06-14T09:30:00.005+01:00

I love mornings; I love waking up to the idea of a meal - strawberries, eggs, together, separate, it doesn't quite matter. Because in the morning I'm an eating machine - anything I can rustle up, anything I can find, I will eat.

I love mornings, in theory.

What I don't like is having to wake up to the sound of the alarm - weekdays or weekends, to bells or music; I don't like having to sober up to the clang of frying pans and oven trays - they hurt my eardrums; and I do not like having to wash my dishes after making the meal - just give me the Hollywood version.

So I'll have my breakfast before I go to bed thank you, even though there clearly are advantages to being a morning person. On those rare occasions I do enjoy the untainted morning breeze that carries the illusion of having more hours in the day. If it so happens I am awake early on a Saturday morning, I enjoying beating the crowds to Borough Market, which is exactly what I did this Saturday past.

Borough on a Saturday is pleasant only before the eleventh hour, literally. Between the hours of nine and eleven, you get to shop without having to nudge anyone in the ribs, sample without having pairs of ravenous eyes and hands reach across you, and have your choice of the first offerings of the day. As you can see, that can make for quite an interesting bundle:

Among my findings were a summer fruit liqueur, a yellow courgette, white asparagus, fairy champignons, duck eggs and squid. Borough may not be the cheapest market around, but you do generally get what you pay for, if you select carefully and consciously. At Borough, the produce can be as local or as international as you would like it to be (from L. Booth to Utobeer), and as raw and prepared as you desire (ostrich meat to ostrich burgers). There is also the added value of the market being made up of mostly independent producers who have direct relationships with their products.

My bounty set me back £25. I consider that a bargain because that bought me the backbone of my meals for the week. Ironically, the backbone of my meal for the night was boneless.

Chilli-Garlic-Lemon Squid with Rice
Serves 2
Prep time: 20 mins
Cook time: 10 mins

1 tbsp butter
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
100g squid, cut breadth-wise into rings
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp lemon juice
1 tsp chilli flakes or freshly cut chillies
1/4 tsp finely grated lemon rind
Salt and pepper to taste
2 medium-sized bowls (approx 4 cups) of leftover rice - I had basmati

1. On medium heat, saute the garlic in butter.
2. Toss in the squid and add the oregano, lemon juice, lemon rind and chilli flakes if using. (if you're using freshly cut chillies add it in at the end of the cooking)
3. Let the squid simmer until it turns opaque and remove squid from heat. Season and toss in the cut chillies now if using. Retain half of the juices in pan.
4.In the leftover squid juices, saute the rice until just steaming.
5. Serve.

I never promised you a herb garden

2009-06-09T00:30:00.007+01:00

The joys of a herb garden, especially in a shoebox of a room. It does lift the mood. It also makes for pleasant, vivid dreams. Not surprisingly, for basil clears the head, relieves intellectual fatigue, and gives the mind strength and clarity. I dreamt last night I ate a freshly picked sea urchin. The taste still lingers in my mouth.

Interview with Jason Lowe, Food Photographer

2009-05-22T19:14:00.002+01:00

Daylight was pulling away from the studio fast. Dusk seems to be the least logical time of the day to begin taking pictures, "but what people don't know is that this is one of the best times for photographs," said natural light food photographer Jason Lowe. "You have to work really fast though," he added with impish smile to his assistant.

Even after more than a decade in this elusive and demanding industry we know simply as 'food photography', Jason's passion is blatant: "I love food. I love to eat, I love it as a subject. I love to be involved and inspired." The fervour shows in his pictures.

Jason did not start out as a food photographer. The thought hadn't even occured to him. He wanted to be an actor, though it's not difficult to imagine him as one - he has the essential qualities: his face is remarkably expressive, his voice sonorous yet malleable and meaningful, and his presence commands a room.

Fortunately photography fell into place faster than an acting gig: after a short stint at a film processing shop, he was offered a position as a photographer's assistant. Jason took it.

"The photographer was a lighting technical genius", recalls Jason fondly. "I am able to pick up on the way the light falls because I spent five years in a basement, lighting sets." That, incidentally, is also why he settled on becoming a natural light photographer: "I don't ever want to be in a black hole again."

As he consciously sidestepped black holes he began to find himself deeper and deeper in the world of food. It was natural - his love of food was the gravitational pull, and the people he met along the way further cemented that pull. "I love working with people who are hardworking, dedicated and fun-loving". All these aspects came together nicely in the food terrior. "I am a cantakerous old cart who sticks my nose into other people's business. My job lets me do all at once."

Years down the road, Jason is still doing what he started doing: he works with industry heavyweights like Simon Hopkinson, Mark Hix and Fergus Henderson - well-established names whose passions rival his. But he is not well-known for simply collaborating with these champions, it is his signature photography style that draws many to him.

His pictures bring out the earnest, bare-bones qualities of his subjects. His subjects are not perfect - not in the stylists' sense of the word - but they're the real deal, done deliberately so: he uses all authentic ingredients, has the dishes cooked according to the recipes and immediately before the shots, and mostly styles his own pictures. The tweezer is only called upon every now and then, and until recently, this 44-year-old was a purist to film.

"There is a beauty in film that doesn't translate into digital at all. To me they are separate media. The Luddite in me, because of my age and my love of film, I hold on to that. Film is an old thing; I like things that are made, built with care and precision. Digital photography leapfrogs to the precise, which can make it an immensely difficult medium."

In spite of it being a difficult medium, Jason has adapted well - a good proportion of his work is done digitally now, and the adjustment period seems to have been minimal. He has clearly come to an understanding with digital photography: "I appreciate the new evolution of people who find it deeply fascinating and extraordinary. I'm learning new things about it every day."

While Jason may still be learning, he is not fussed about quickly becoming proficient in all of digital photography's aspects. He is aware that he is a photographer who likes to be taking photographs, not one who likes to be in the darkroom or fiddling on Photoshop. On that note you won't find him formulating HTML for his newly launched website, www.jasonlowe.eu.

Nonetheless he seems to be keeping up with technology, and at a good pace. Like the digital camera, the website became a necessary tool, especially for a full-time freelancer like him. He does find the concept of self-marketing strange however, and expects little from the website "only because the only marketing I ever did for myself was an unmitigated failure".

But ask him where he thinks the website is going to take him and he will reply with forward-looking uncertainty: "We're in an interesting time. It is a hard [economic] time, but I like hard times like these because it makes you put things in perspective, re-evaluate. I've been riding the wave, it's been exhilarating and fantastic. Now the wave starts to fold, but I'm excited. I feel re-invigorated because this is when real stuff stays and the frou-frou goes."

So how does Jason put things in perspective, sift out the real stuff from the frou-frou, re-invigorate? "Eat a lot, play a lot, go out a lot and take a lot of photographs. Take pictures of things that inspire you, that make you laugh." He does not believe in spending too much time in thinking about taking them.

Whether you're a budding photographer or an old hat like him, it is important to "get as much experience from people that inspire you, define what it is about them that inspire you, and redefine it for yourself."

Passion-driven as he may be, his advice is entirely logical - passion, practice and perspective can make a good photographer, but it takes distinct frame of mind and interpretation to stand out and survive in this career. As quick as this assistant can move, dusk, it seems, can only last for so long.

To see more of Jason's photographs, go to www.jasonlowe.eu.

Lighten Up

2009-04-27T19:10:00.007+01:00

Publisher: Quadrille | Pages: 224 | £16.99

The Times Cook's latest book on healthy eating posed an immediate dilemma for me: where was I supposed to I begin? The book's contents aren't arranged to facilitate emotional eating (frustration was the emotion). Instead, it is one that is divided into a curious myriad of categories that would flourish better as standalone mini-cookbooks. To test, I pick the recipe that I happened to have most ingredients for: the Spice-Grilled Mackerel. I wasn't prepared to get more frustrated.

I lucked out on the mackerel; Dupleix's recipes are generally fuss-free, but to maintain a high level of flavour, she specifies a wide array of ingredients. The mackerel recipe happened to be one of the shorter. The recipe's two potentially specialised ingredients - Thai red curry paste and fish sauce - could be easily scoured. I didn't have a grill though. So I made do with a frying pan.

The mackerel was easy to cook. Like she said, "you don't have to mollycoddle fish like mackerel - they're so rich and oily they can take whatever you throw at them". Good. The last thing I wanted to do was to mollycoddle.

She saved me from mulling as well, with instructions that explicate almost every step you hardly have to think. "Start grilling the bread now," she says in another recipe, "the eggs won't take long." Gladly. This, coincidentally, is her format throughout the book. I am unable to decide if this is a good or bad method - the skeptic in me feels she's bound to leave something out. I wouldn't know yet though - this recipe was my first. And in such a state of mind, I was willing to let her mind my peas and quails.

While waiting for my mackerel's skin to crackle (part of the instructions), I flipped through the rest of the book to pick a second test-recipe. A couple stand out as innovative (one of the 'Tofu four ways' and 'Sticky Chicken Wings' in particular) but everything else seemed a little archaic. Dupleix chose to span cultures in selecting her recipes to include. In that manner, it seemed she picked each culture's forerunner dish (Lamb Tagine with Dates, Korean Bibimbap, Spaghetti alla Puttanesca) so on the whole it feels like she's simply scratching the surface of cuisines with this health book instalment.

She does however make an attempt to pull away from the hackneyed idea of a stifled health cookbook - except for the gathering of ingredients, which can seem like a giant task when your pantry is not well-stocked. When backed by a well-stocked pantry however, the recipes are accessible, even if some of the photography seems to border on the surreal. Surely food doesn't turn out spotless every time?

Merry Easter Christmakkah

2009-04-06T10:32:00.017+01:00

Yes, I am well aware it is in fact spring and that the season's first ecclesiastical full moon is drawing near, so it is technically Easter. But what's in a name if that which we call Easter by any other name would be just as feastworthy?

My 'feast' for greeting the season came in a package from across the Atlantic.

The Feast arrived from Canada early January, but because I was in the process of moving house I have it in my hands only now. Pardon me therefore for resurrecting Christmas - Reena has been extremely anxious for me to receive and uncover the package.

Most of the items in the Feast had distant perishable dates, except the most important component: the handmade, homebaked rugelachs that Reena so painstakingly rolled, wrapped and shipped. I managed to arrange for the rugelachs to be safekept in the freezer even though I was extremely apprehensive about storing it this way as that might affect its texture.

As luck would have it, these rugelachs were made for freezing: when I received them they were already half thawed, but like frozen chocolate bars, this is probably the method to consume rugelach. The medium-thick dough at this temperature was soft with an impish bite, and the chocolate was just the way I love it - frozen at the core so you get that crunch once you bite through the cool but melty outer layer. These were the most lovingly delicious treatbits to have to celebrate spring. Thank you Reena.

Martha Stewart's Complicated Rugelach Recipe

Adapted from the Martha Stewart Baking Handbook
Makes 54
Prep time: 1 hr 30 mins to 1 hr 45 mins
Cook time: 20 to 25 minutes

In typical Martha fashion, there are no shortcuts in this recipe - this is why Reena calls it the "Complicated Rugelach Recipe". But the recipe only seems daunting because it is presented as a long text - once the details are broken down into different parts Martha's recipe seems pretty manageable. And it makes quite a basketful too, which is very thoughtful of Martha because treats such as these always go faster than they are intended to. I know - I ate all of mine in one sitting!

225g unsalted butter, at room temperature
225g cream cheese, at room temperature
150g granulated sugar
1/4 tsp plus a pinch of salt
1 large whole egg
3 egg yolks
290g all purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
120g walnut halves or pieces
pinch of ground cinnamon
200g plus 2 tbsp (12 oz) red plum jelly, or whatever jelly you fancy
500g currants, mini semisweet chocolate chips, or a combination (R used chocolate only)
Fine sanding sugar or granulated sugar for sprinkling

Prepare the Dough:
Beat together cream cheese and butter until light and fluffy - this should take 3 to 4 minutes. Scrape down sides of the bowl to get any clinging cream cheese or butter - you want all of it fluffy.

To the fluffed mixture add 1/2 cup granulated sugar and 1/4 tsp salt and vanilla. Beat further until combined and equally fluffy. Add egg yolks one at a time, beating to combine after each. Once mixture is well incorporated, beat in flour to combine into a workable dough.

Turn out dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Divide into 3 equal pieces and shape into flattened discs. Wrap each disc in plastic wrap. Refrigerate at least 1 hour or overnight.

For the filling:
In a food processor, pulse together walnuts, remaining 1/4 cup sugar, cinnamon, and pinch of salt until finely ground.

On lightly floured work surface, roll out one dough disc into a 10 inch round, about 1/4 inch thick. Brush the top of dough evenly with melted jelly and then sprinkle with 1/3 of the walnut mixture and 1/3 of the currant or chocolate chips. Press them down into the dough.

Using a pizza cutter or sharp knife, divide the round into 16 equal wedges. Beginning from the outer rim (wide part) of the wedge, roll up to enclose the filling. Repeat steps with remaining dough.

When ready to bake:
Preheat oven to between 160 and 165ºC and line baking sheets with parchment paper. Place the rolled doughettes about 1 inch apart on the baking sheets. Lightly beat the whole egg, brush over the tops of rugelachs and sprinkle with the sanding sugar. Bake sheets until cookies are golden brown.