Meera Sodha’s baby aubergines stuffed with peanut and coconut
I went to Kanora in Gujarat to visit the birthplace of my grandfather. I asked around for the old Lakhani house. A village elder pointed it out. I knocked on the door tentatively and was welcomed in by the new owners. The smell coming from the kitchen was magical: they were making bharela ringan – aubergines cooked in peanut and coconut, a Gujarati classic – and they invited me to stay for lunch. I sat at the kitchen table where my grandfather would have sat with his brother and seven sisters, and imagined what he must have been thinking when he decided to set sail across the Arabian Sea to seek his fortune in Africa. In all the years I knew him, I never thought to ask him about it. But I did on many occasions share this dish with him, and every time I eat it, it reminds me to dream big.
Serves 4 as a main course
baby aubergines 12 (800g)
desiccated or freshly grated coconut 60g
roasted unsalted peanuts 120g
fresh coriander 40g
garlic 8 cloves
green finger chilli 1
tomato puree 2 tbsp
ground cumin 1 tsp
ground turmeric ¾ tsp
sugar 1 tsp
salt 1¾ tsp
rapeseed oil 3 tbsp
onion 1 large, sliced
Cut each aubergine in half lengthways, but don’t cut through the stem. Roll each one over and cut lengthways again, still keeping the stem intact. Put into a bowl of cold water and set aside.
Put a large lidded frying pan over a medium heat and, when hot, toast the coconut and peanuts for 2-3 minutes, until the coconut is starting to brown. Tip into a bowl and leave to cool. Put the coriander, garlic, green chilli, tomato puree, cumin, turmeric, sugar and salt into a food processor, along with the cooled peanuts and coconut. Pulse until coarsely ground and fully mixed.
Open each aubergine out like a flower and fill with the coconut mixture, using your hands. Roll the aubergine over, open and stuff again, then press closed. If there’s any leftover stuffing, add it to the pan later, when you cook the aubergines.
Next, put the oil into the frying pan over a medium heat. When hot, add the onion and fry until golden and soft. Add the aubergines and 2 tablespoons of water, turn the heat up high and cook for a couple of minutes, then put the lid on and turn the heat down. Cook for 10 minutes, then gently turn the aubergines and add a splash of water if they’re looking dry. Cook for a further 20 minutes, or until nice and tender. Serve with cucumber and mint raita, or with a salad, some yogurt and chapattis.
From Fresh India by Meera Sodha (Fig Tree, £20). To order a copy for £16.40 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99
Tomer Amedi’s cod chraymeh
The name of this North African fish stew is derived from the word chraimee, which in slang means “bastard”, and alludes to the way of preparing and eating this dish – fast and hot, almost “stealing” it by snatching it up quickly with a piece of bread. Basically a great and fast way to cook a nice piece of fat fish for fortifying the labourers of Libya, Algeria, Tunisia and Morocco on their lunch breaks. Chraymeh found its way into the Jewish kitchen as a quick fish dish. It has now been taken into the heart of almost every Israeli household as the official Friday night fish dish, and even Ashkenazi – originally Eastern European – households cook it with joy.
In this recipe I use fresh red peppers and canned tomatoes because I like mine chunky – you can use tomato puree and some water if you prefer a smooth texture. Although I use cod here, any white flaky fish will do, such as hake or halibut, and feel free to turn it into a seafood festival by adding clams, mussels, prawns and even scallops, all poached quickly in the fragrant red stew.
The hawaij spice mix is one of my favourites, a Yemeni mix spice that’s also very popular in Israel and has been embraced by many other cuisines in the region.
When I cook with my mama and something is missing, she always says to me, “Add a bit of hawaij”, and you know what, she’s always right. I like to use it for stews, meatballs and kebabs — and the Yemenis make a killer beef shin soup with it. I even like to add some when I’m pickling. To be honest, I still like the hawaij I get from Machane Yehuda market the best, but this version is very close to the real thing.
Serves 4
rapeseed oil 4 tbsp
red chillies 1-3 (depending on how hot you like it), sliced
red peppers 5, cored, deseeded and cut into 1½cm fingers
garlic 5 cloves, sliced
sweet paprika 1 tbsp
cumin seeds 1 tsp, toasted and ground
hawaij spice mix 1 tsp (see below), optional
aniseed-flavoured spirit, such as arak, Pernod or ouzo 5 tbsp (optional)
water 100ml
harissa 1 tbsp
good-quality chopped tomatoes 400g tin
sugar a pinch
cod fillets 4, 150g each, skinned
salt to taste
coriander 1 large bunch, chopped
lemon juice a squeeze
For the hawaij spice mix
black peppercorns 4 tbsp, or 2 tbsp cracked black peppercorns
cumin seeds 4 tbsp, toasted, or 2 tbsp ground cumin
cardamom pods 1 tbsp (ditch the husks before you grind them), or 1 tsp ground cardamom
ground turmeric 2 tbsp
cloves 1 tsp
coriander seeds 2 tbsp, toasted
dried coriander leaves 2 tbsp
To make the hawaij spice mix, toast the seeds for 2-3 minutes in a dry pan over a medium heat, then grind all the ingredients in a spice grinder or a pestle and mortar. This will keep in an airtight container for 1-2 months.
Heat a large saucepan or a wide, shallow pan over a medium heat, add the oil, chillies and peppers and sauté for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the garlic and half the dry spices and cook for a further 5 minutes.
Add the aniseed-flavoured spirit (if using) and crank the heat up to allow the alcohol to vaporise, then add the water and harissa and stir for a while. Next add the tomatoes and sugar, then leave the stew to simmer for 10-15 minutes before adding the rest of the spices.
Season the cod fillets with salt, then gently slide them into the stew. Add half the coriander and simmer for another 5 minutes.
Add the squeeze of lemon juice, give the stew a good shake and check for salt, then turn the heat off and leave it to rest for 5 minutes before you serve, topped with the rest of the coriander.
In my house, we put the pan straight on the table and everyone helps themselves. Grab a fork in one hand and a piece of bread in the other.Tomer Amedi is head chef at the Palomar
From The Palomar Cookbook (Mitchell Beazley, £25). To order a copy for £21.25 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99
Simon Hopkinson’s rhubarb crumble with Guernsey cream
Let’s be honest about this: a crumble mix is nothing more than unmixed pastry, and all the better for that. I don’t believe in anything else, here, other than this traditional mix of butter, sugar and plain flour. No nuts. No oats. No “bits”, in other words. A pinch of salt is an imperative and should not be omitted.
Finally, never make the mistake of patting/pressing the crumble mixture down, once piled on to the fruit. I like to carefully apply it in large spoonfuls, so allowing the mixture to trickle around the fruit, while also forming tiny hillocks so that, once cooked, the sugary-buttery-fruit juices nicely bubble up and around all over the place, especially at the edge of the dish, where they occasionally burn a bit. Very nice indeed, that.
Serves 4
rhubarb 700g
golden caster sugar 2 tbsp
lemon juice of ½
unsalted butter several thin flakes
golden caster sugar a little extra, for sprinkling
For the crumble mixture
unsalted butter 250g very cold, cut into small chunks
plain flour 400g
golden caster sugar 200g
salt a generous pinch
To serve
Guernsey (or Jersey) cream
Preheat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4.
Place all the ingredients for the crumble mixture in a roomy bowl. Deftly, using your fingertips, rub the butter into the flour, sugar and salt, while lifting and dropping the mixture back through the fingers, so handling the ingredients as little as possible – in the same way as one begins to make pastry.
Pile the rhubarb into a buttered dish, sprinkle with sugar, squeeze over the lemon juice and distribute the flakes of butter over the fruit.
Cover the fruit with the crumble mixture, sprinkle over a little extra golden caster sugar and place in the oven. Bake for about 40 minutes, or until jammy juices are oozing up around the edges of the dish, and the surface is pock-marked with golden pustules. Serve with lovely and thick Guernsey or Jersey cream – and unpasteurised, if you can find it.
From The Good Cook by Simon Hopkinson (BBC Books, £25)
Nigel Slater’s baked quince with orange and mascarpone ginger crunch
The quince once seemed so impenetrable. Mentions of membrillo and quince liqueur did nothing to invite entry to the rock-hard, yellow fruit that resembled a dumpy papaya. Ten years on, I take a deep casserole from the oven, the fruits split, their soft, almost fluffy, pink flesh peeping through, and marvel at their beauty. There is orange in there too, vanilla in its sticky pod and a single cinnamon stick. The steam beguiles and amuses with its notes of amber, orange blossom and spice. The quince has come a long way in this kitchen. I guess we all have.
Enough for 4
quinces 4
large oranges 3
cinnamon 1 stick
vanilla 1 pod
For the mascarpone ginger crunch
ginger biscuits 75g
mascarpone 200g
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Put the quinces in a deep casserole, piercing them here and there with a small knife or skewer as you go.
Halve and juice the oranges and pour into the casserole, add the cinnamon stick and vanilla pod and then cover with a lid. Bake for an hour or so, till the skins have wrinkled and the flesh is tender to the point of a knife.
For the ginger crunch, crush the biscuits, either in a plastic bag with a rolling pin or in a food processor, but not too finely. They should have a mixture of textures from gravel to coarse sand. Fold the biscuits into the mascarpone.
Remove the quinces from the juice, place on small plates and serve with the pan juices and the mascarpone ginger crunch.
From The Kitchen Diaries II by Nigel Slater (4th Estate, £30). To order a copy for £24.60 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99
Margaret Costa’s lemon surprise pudding
Serves 2 greedy people
butter 55g
lemon grated rind and juice of 1
caster sugar 100g
eggs 2, separated
plain flour 15g
milk about 300ml
Cream the butter with the grated lemon rind and sugar. When it is fluffy, beat in the egg yolks; then stir in the sifted flour alternately with the milk. Add the juice of the lemon and fold in the stiffly beaten egg whites lightly but thoroughly. Bake in a moderate oven, 180C/gas mark 4, for about 45 minutes, until the pudding is golden brown. Underneath the sponge topping there will be a creamy lemon sauce – this is the charming little surprise.
From Four Seasons Cookery Book by Margaret Costa (Grub Street, £14.99) To order a copy for £12.74 go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99
