A Pumpkin of Two Halves

You may recall the sorry tale of this year’s vegetable harvest. I had lovingly watered and watched over the solitary pumpkin, as it grew almost imperceptibly from one week to the next. Out of over-zealous affection, I managed one day to break its stalk. Furious with myself, I abandoned it at the edge of the veg patch for some days, only to be filled with remorse and rescue it, leaving it to ripen on the sunny porch out of the rain.

The solitary pumpkin

Finally last week I plucked up the courge (sorry) to cut it open. Amazing! Firm, ripe, juicy orange flesh and large white seeds! So: what to do with such a precious treasure? It weighed almost a kilo, so there would be enough flesh for two dishes for the two of us. The first choice was easy. We both love risotto, and pumpkin has the perfect texture to complement the creamy rice. Fresh sage leaves add a wonderful aromatic autumnal flavour.

Pumpkin and Sage Risotto

Making risotto is for me what making tea is to the Japanese. I don’t cook it for visitors, though, because I selfishly devote all my attention to the pan for half an hour, and insist that it is eaten immediately. If you’re going to be that much of a primadonna about it, it’s neither sociable nor very practical as a party dish!

So, we are left with half a pumpkin.What to do with it? I remembered a French recipe for couscous à la courge, a dish of braised lamb shoulder with squash and potato. Couscous and potato on the same plate seemed a bit dull, so I made a vegetable tagine with the pumpkin and a kohlrabi (chosen because it doesn't have a strong flavour to outshine the pumpkin) and served it with lean lamb kebabs, couscous and some good fiery harissa. Justice done, I think, to the valiant little pumpkin.

Pumpkin and sage risotto

serves 2 for lunch or 4 as starter

ingredients

350g pumpkin flesh, cut into small cubes

large handful fresh sage leaves

1 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp ghee (or butter)

1 large shallot, very finely chopped

200g Arborio rice

150ml white wine or vermouth

1 litre vegetable stock

salt and black pepper

grated parmesan, to serve

preparation

• Par-boil the pumpkin in lightly salted water for 2-3 minutes, leaving it slightly al dente. Drain.
• Chop the sage finely, reserving a few leaves. Bring the stock to the boil, and keep it hot while making the risotto.
• Melt the ghee with the olive oil in a large sauté pan, and fry the shallot gently for 4-5 minutes. Do not allow it to brown. Stir in the chopped sage, then add the rice and cook over a low heat for 2 minutes until the grains start to appear translucent.
• Add the wine, bring to a gentle simmer and stir carefully until the liquid has almost completely evaporated. Add a ladleful of hot stock, and stir gently until it has evaporated. (From this point I find it takes 22 minutes to cook the rice, but obviously there are lots of variables.)
• Stir in the pumpkin, and continue adding hot stock a ladleful at a time, stirring until it has almost evaporated before adding more.
• When it is ready, the rice should be soft (not al dente), and the risotto creamy but not swimming in stock. You may not need all the stock, and if you need more just use hot water.
• When almost ready, stir in a few whole sage leaves, or you can fry these quickly to make them crisp and sprinkle them over the served risotto.
• Season to taste, and serve immediately with the parmesan at the side. Some people like to trickle a little melted butter over it, but my advice would be to try it without first.

Lamb kebabs with pumpkin couscous

serves 2

ingredients

400g lean lamb, cut into cubes

juice of ½ lemon

olive oil

1 tsp dried oregano

salt and black pepper

2 medium onions

350g pumpkin flesh, in large cubes

1 large kohlrabi, peeled and cut into large cubes

500ml lamb stock

1 large clove garlic, crushed

2 tsp ground sweet paprika

1 tsp crushed coriander seeds

a handful of pitted black olives

2 tomatoes (optional)

fresh parsley or coriander leaves, chopped

couscous

bought harissa paste

preparation

• Make a marinade with olive oil, lemon juice, oregano and seasoning. Coat the meat well and leave at room temperature for an hour or so, or in the fridge if you want to leave it longer.
• Heat the oven to 160°C
• Slice one of the onions finely, and soften it gently in olive oil in a flameproof casserole, together with the garlic, paprika and coriander, for about 5 minutes.
• Deglaze the pan with the lamb stock. Stir in the chopped vegetables and olives and add enough stock to cover. Bring to the boil and cook in the oven for about an hour. The vegetables should
• be slightly caramelised, but do not allow the dish to dry out.
• Thread the meat onto skewers, alternated with pieces of onion, and if you wish some pieces of fresh tomato. Baste with the marinade, and grill for about 5 minutes each side until just done.
• Prepare the couscous according to the packet. Pile it onto a serving plate with the kebabs around the edge. Add the parsley to the vegetables, and serve them separately in their sauce.
• Home-made harissa is better, of course, but it’s not practical to make in small quantities and it doesn’t really keep. Shop-bought is fine - just find the brand you like best!

Couscous, the prologue...

Here is yet another tale that begins twenty years ago. Well, that was the theme that started this blog in the first place.

When I met the other half in the early 90’s, there were, I believe, no more than three or four couscous restaurants in London. These were almost exclusively patronized by French expats, and were tucked away where you would be unlikely to stumble upon them by chance. It sounds strange to say it now, but I had never eaten couscous (well, they didn’t sell it in Tesco’s): despite being a moderately adventurous and open-minded diner, it had totally slipped under my radar.

is that it?

I’m not sure I quite twigged at the time, but in retrospect it is clear that this was another little test to see if his precious little (as it was then) tummy would be adequately cared for by yours truly.

I was taken to Laurent, the eponymous restaurant of a jovial Tunisian owner-chef. The atmosphere owed a lot to his Italian wife – it was just like dropping in to an Italian farmhouse kitchen for supper with the extended family. There was a menu, but it seemed only to be offered to strangers. The restaurant was close to Ed’s parents’ flat, and when they were away, it fell to Laurent to feed the poor abandoned offspring.

This was another facet of my new Other Half which was to become familiar: he loves to have a regular haunt in each town. If he likes the result of his first stab at the menu, he will return as often as possible and always order the same thing; if, however, his first choice doesn’t hit the spot, he’ll never go back. Harsh, and totally unfair, but there you go.

Anyway, back to Laurent. Couscous with braised lamb and lots of veggies was ordered. It seemed to me to be fairly bland, a common criticism by newcomers to couscous, I know, but it was OK and I was hungry, so when seconds appeared I tucked in. The house Red was very palatable and washed it all down nicely, so I thought. An hour later I had to be rolled back to the car. I was not allowed to forget this. For some years, Ed insisted on finding a parking space downhill from the restaurant just in case.

I have since learned not to eat seconds and thirds of couscous long after my appetite has been dealt with, and my only excuse for the early over-indulgences (if an excuse is needed) is that we were students, and unlimited food for an extremely fair price was a rare treat, not to be allowed to pass by unsnaffled. Oh, yes, and the wine was also, mm, inexpensive.

Having seen how couscous should be done, I was then “encouraged” to produce it at home. The classic Couscous-with-seven-vegetables is not a sensible choice for fewer than about eight people, though, and after one quite respectable, but unreasonably (I felt) labour-intensive, attempt the idea was allowed to lie fallow, Laurent being within reach to satisfy any cravings (and they were frequent).

Ironically, it was only 2 years later when we moved to live in France that I began to cook couscous regularly at home. (I could tell you about the culture shock of our arrival in the Pas-de-Calais, but I think I’ll save that for another blog all of its own.)

Next, the acquisition of a tagine…

Wild Food

The darkness of November always gives me the urge to cook real winter food. Forget the grilled fish and ratatouille of summer, this weather calls for something altogether more substantial. The beginning of the game season compensates more than adequately for the absence of summer’s abundance. I like the German term for game, Wild, meaning not only the furred and feathered edibles, but also literally “wild”. Strangely, game is not easy to come by around here. There are plenty of hunters, and I’m told that wild boar are plentiful in the forest around the village, but my attempts to locate a supplier have so far proved fruitless. I have a horrible suspicion that this is due to the regulations governing the meat supply industry. Right and necessary though these may be, it seems to mean that if you want to eat the results of the hunter’s Sunday morning outing, first find your hunter. Buying his booty is probably illegal.

Venison can, however, be bought in some supermarkets. It may not seem quite so Wild when diced and shrink-wrapped, but it has the advantage of practicality, and seems to lose nothing of its flavour and tenderness. Venison is beautifully lean and easily-digestible meat, and I have so far failed to find anyone who doesn’t like it, if they can only be persuaded to try it once!

Nothing captures the spirit of English winter food like the Pie. I adore the mixture of light, flaky pieces of pastry with the slightly soggier bits from next to the meat. I make two or three times as much as I need, and freeze portions of it wrapped in clingfilm. This doesn’t seem to have any negative effects on the taste or texture of the piecrust, and I have a sneaking suspicion it might even improve it. Putting a simple crust on top of a venison ragout is an incredibly easy way to make something that looks and tastes a bit special. I like to make small individual pies, and with some fluffy mashed potatoes and plenty of gravy there is no more satisfying and warming supper. We’re back to the theme of comfort food here, you may have noticed. I wouldn’t want you to think that food is the only sort of comfort in my life, but I never run out of appetite for it.

This is not just kitchen supper food, though; the ragout can be prepared the day before, as can the pastry. For a dinner party, the veg. and gravy can be got ready in advance, then all you have to do is pop the pie into the oven when you serve the starter.

This recipe comes from Ravinder Bhogal, although I’ve tweaked it a bit. It’s much simpler than it appears at first glance, and the combination of flavours works really well.

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Venison pie with turnips and beetroot
Serves 2-3

Ingredients

100g smoked lardons

4 tbsp olive oil
1 red onion sliced
1 tsp ground cinnamon
6 cloves crushed
4 sprigs of thyme
2 fat cloves of garlic crushed
3 small turnips peeled and diced
3 small beetroots peeled and diced

500g venison, diced
2 tbsp seasoned flour
250ml Marsala
1 tbsp juniper berries roughly crushed
2 bay leaves
500ml vegetable  stock
1 egg beaten with a little water
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

• Preheat the fan oven to 160°C. In a flameproof casserole, sauté the lardons till the fat runs. Set aside.
• In a tablespoon of olive oil, sauté the onion with the cinnamon, cloves and thyme leaves until caramelised. Add the garlic and fry for another minute or two. Set aside with the bacon.
• In another tablespoon of olive oil, fry the beetroot and turnips until they have some colour on them. Put with the lardons and onions.
• Lightly coat the venison pieces in seasoned flour and brown them, in batches if necessary. Set aside with the veg.
• Deglaze the pan with the Marsala, scraping up all the bits, and boil to reduce by about half. Add the bay leaves, juniper berries, seasoning and stock. Put the onions, vegetables, lardons and venison back in, bring to a simmer, cover and cook in the oven for 1 ½  hours, adding hot water if necessary.
• In the meantime, make the pastry and leave in the fridge until you’re ready to use it. Place the cooked filling in the pie dish or dishes. Roll out the pastry on a floured surface, not too thinly. Cut to fit the dishes and use the pastry trimmings to make a 1cm strip. Wet the edge of the dish with egg/water mix and stick the strip all around.
• Cut a cross in the centre of the pastry for a pie funnel if you want to use one. Lay the pastry over the pie dish and seal the edges onto the pastry rim. Brush the pie all over with the beaten egg and bake at 180°C for 30 minutes till golden brown.

Game Gravy

1 small onion or shallot, sliced downwards

olive oil

1 tsp plain flour

300ml game stock

• Fry onion in oil until golden.
• Reduce heat, stir in flour and cook gently for 2 minutes.
• Add stock a little at a time, stirring well
• Cook for about 5 minutes to required consistency.
• Season to taste.

Piecrust Pastry (from Ruth Watson)

(makes 2 lots)

225g frozen unsalted butter

300g plain flour

about 80ml ice-cold water

• Grater the frozen butter coarsely into a bowl with the flour.
• Rub the butter in to the flour.
• Add the water gradually, using only as much as needed to make a soft dough.
• Roll the dough into two equal balls. Wrap in clingfilm and refrigerate for up to 24 hours, or freeze straight away.