Stockholm Summer

Nacka Strand, Stockholm, around midnight early July

It took me a few hours to get my bearings on my first visit to Stockholm.  Spread out over a series of islands, the task of getting around everywhere on a short visit can seem a little daunting.  That is, until you realise that getting around on foot is great, taxis are expensive and rates vary, but the public transport system is fantastic.  The Arlanda Express train from the airport to the centre of town takes 20 minutes.  It has much in common with our London Heathrow Express - fast, efficient and expensive - but in summer they do a 2 for 1 offer to ease the pain.  Tickets are available at the airport Information Desk where you can also pick up city maps .  You arrive at T-Centralen station.  Do not despair, the areas around railway stations are never good and it gets much better, believe me.

Johan & Nyström
Stockholm

The Swedes, I was told, are obsessed with coffee.  What, more so than Londoners?  After my visit to Sweden last week I can't say I saw any evidence of their capital city out-drinking London in any way, but to 'f'ika' - to spend time having coffee - is certainly an important part of their day.  So, of course, once we'd checked into our hotel we went native.  We had a little help.  'The White Guide Cafe' is an invaluable little book (and there's an App) rating the best of the coffee shops in Sweden.  With only 48 hours in Stockholm we were never going to get around too many of them but we sniffed out the best on Södermalm.  Johan & Nyström at Swedenborgsgatan 7 is a lovely place with skilled and enthusiastic staff.  Yes, the Aeropress, the Chemex and the Siphon are all there, but it was simply great tasting coffee.  In addition to the delicious espressos we  tried what I'm calling a 'cooled brew' as I've never come across it before - coffee brewed hot then put on ice (no not an iced coffee).  The result was beautifully clean-tasting, full-flavoured Kenyan coffee.  Johan & Nyström also won on price, incidentally, and they had the best cinnamon and cardamom buns, which I learned they get from Dessert & Choklad).

Dessert & Choklad
Stockholm

Södermalm, or Söder, by the way, is the island/area we found most interesting.  It's also where you'll find the Terminal Slussen Bus and Metro Station.  We found buying 24 hour SL cards invaluable for getting around by metro, bus and tram.  The various ferries linking the islands are great too but the SL card isn't valid on all of them, so check.

Pärlans Konfektyr
Stockholm

Only on our return to London did I learn that the writer Stieg Larsson took inspiration from Söder in its grittier days.  It's lively with a good mix of rough and smooth, unhip and trendy with small businesses setting up on unprepossessing streets.  One such is Pärlans Konfektyr at Nytorgsgatan 38.  Here you'll find the most delightful toffee shop you could hope to come across.  You feel just like you've walked into a 1940's film with caramel makers beavering away in the workshop to your left and the shop sales conducted by Greer Garson in Mrs Miniver's front parlour.  It's a joy to find such a focused business, run by young staff, making and selling a really good product with such style.  The caramels are hand-made and have just the right degree of chewyness.  Sweets such as 'Salt Likrits' (salt liquorice) and Mandel & Vanilj (almond and vanilla) are subtly flavoured to perfection.  They also sell jars of caramel spread and just a few other sweets.  The finishing touch is the the hand-stamping and wrapping.  Don't miss.

Riddarholmskyrkhan, Stockholm

Also on Söder: 
Fabrique Bakery, Rosenlundsgatan 28 (bakery and coffee) and Gögatan 24 (bakery) and other branches - Londoners may have come across Fabrique Bakery in Hoxton, which I rate highly.    
Drop Coffee, Wollmar Yxkullsgatan 10 - rated very highly in The White Guide; we had our most expensive (3.60kr) and mostdisappointing espresso - a strange wheaty aroma and flavour, which I'm told could be down to a very light roasting of 'green' beans.  Maybe just not to my taste.
Urban Deli, Nytorget 4 - at this hip restaurant and deli we found the wait long, the wine thin and the food average, but nobody seemed to mind at all.
Saltå Kvarn,  Renstiernas gata 27 is a small grocers which started out milling organic and biodynamic flours. Unfortunately it was closed for the summer break when I visited, denying me the chance not only to see what their products were like but to ogle the rather beautiful packaging.
Fotografiska, Stradsgardshmann 22 is Sweden's Museum of Photography.  They had 3 really good exhibitions on when we visited, and the top floor houses a cafe rated for its coffee and offering a fantastic view across to the main island, Gamla Stan (the old town) and the island of Djurgården.

Snickarbacken 7, Stockholm

Moving to the Östermalm district on the main island, where I would recommend to eat is P.A. & Co, Riddargatan 8 (Metro Östermalmstorez) where we ate a dish close to every Swede's heart - meatballs.  Now, I've been to Berlin and utterly failed to be seduced by their obsession with Currywurst, so it was with some trepidation that I ordered 'the meatballs'.  How wrong could I be, they were fantastic.  Two mains, 2 large glasses of good Cotes du Rhone 560kr plus service.

Östermalms Saluhall is the traditional indoor food market in Stockholm that  has been serving local people since 1888.  It's small and intimate with some very good food stalls - notably J. E. Olsson & Söner - and bars where I wish we'd had time to eat.  Next time we surely will.

Also in Östermalm:
Snickarbacken 7 - P.A. & Co. came recommended by Catti Åman of the retail collective Snickarbacken 7 off Birger Jarlsgatan, central Stockholm. This clothes shop, coffee bar, art space, music store is a great place to 'fika' and browse.


Djurgården:
Djurgården is the greenest part of Stockholm and a great place to walk or take a tram.  
Rosendals Trădgård - is a biodynamic garden with an "ecological" cafe and a small deli/gift shop.  I have to say I was underwhelmed by the cafe food on offer but it was after lunchtime.  A plus point is you can take a tray out into the lovely gardens.  They do have a wood-fired oven in the bakery producing delicious bread and they sell excellent conserves, typical of Sweden.   The corner of a field planted with phacelia was a beautiful sight, and the nearby compound of wolves a surprising one.

Rosendals Trădgård, Stockholm

For places to stay, I'd recommend the Hotel J at Nacka Strand.  It's a 20 minute ferry or 10 minute bus ride from central Stockholm.  Usually, I like to be in the centre of town but this proved a good choice.  Apart from the ease of public transport, it's reasonably priced, really peaceful and right by the water. There's an America's Cup theme to the hotel, the 'J' referring to the J Class yachts, and there's a New England feel to it.  The rooms are good and fairly spacious with small balconies.  I'd definitely recommend booking a room with a view.  It serves a great breakfast in an old Villa just below the hotel and the hotel's restaurant is right at the water's edge a 3 minute stroll away.  The staff were lovely, but then everyone we came across in Sweden was.

On my next visit I'd like to get to restaurant Djuret, Lilla Nygatan 5 on the island of Gamla Stan.  It was recommended to me by one of my favourite London chefs.  Disappointingly it closes in July for summer holidays.  One coffe place I would try to get to another time is Mean Coffee at Vasagatan 38, close to Terminal Centralen - mainly because it came recommended by someone from Johan & Nyström.

Wild Bilberries at J.E. Olsson & Söner, Ostermalm Saluhall
Stockholm

Dining out can be expensive in Sweden, with hefty taxes on wine, but portions tend to be large so don't over-order, and do go there! I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

Gooseberry Polenta Cake

Gooseberry Polenta Cake

I have a taste for tart things.  Seeing a scattering of sacrificial fruits around the base of my green gooseberry bush is all the encouragement I need to start picking.  This year the bush is heavy with fruit and, left to its own devices, it would jettison far too many berries, thereby providing a feast for the slugs, bugs, birds and beasts.  Whilst I don't begrudge the wildlife a living, I jealously guard my green gooseberry bush.  Removing a couple of kilos of fruit now will stop the 'fruit drop' in its tracks and enable the remaining fruit to plump up, turn golden, and sweeten in the summer sun.  I watch out for those thorns though - I have the battle scars to attest to their viciousness.

Gooseberry 'Invicta'

Gooseberries grow best in cool, damp climates so England is excellent.  Arguably, in Scotland they grow even better.  There they are known as 'grosarts', but I grew up knowing them as 'Goosegogs'.  Given a bit of heat and sun, later in the season you can reduce the amount of sugar you need to add to them.  Usually, they are the first fruits of Spring and the bushes can remain productive into August.  I have to confess a liking for the sharp, young, green fruits.  You may have to add a bit more sweetener to the early ones but you can always add a leaf or two of Sweet Cicely (remove it after cooking) instead of extra sugar.  Sweet Cicely shows perfect timing by being around just in time for early gooseberries.  If you want a sweeter gooseberry, wait a few weeks or go for a red variety like Pax. It's worth saying again, in case you don't know it,that gooseberries pair wonderfully with elderflowers. Imparting a muscat flavour, the Elder produces its flowers at just the right time too.

Slice of Gooseberry Polenta Cake

The gooseberry is a versatile fruit with a high level of vitamin C.  Being also high in pectin it makes good jams.  Made into compote or chutney it is great for cutting oily fish such as mackerel, or fatty meats like pork or, indeed, goose.  Gooseberry fool is probably my favourite way of using them, but the fruit is very good served with a syllabub or in a crumble, pie or tart.  I've put some links to recipes at the bottom of this post but here's one for a gooseberry cake.  It uses polenta to soak up the juices in the bottom of the cake tin and to provide a crunchy top layer.  

Gooseberry Polenta Cake
(for an 18-20cm cake - enough for 6-8)

450g (1 lb) green gooseberries
60g (2 oz) caster sugar
1 elderflower head or 1-2 tbsp elderflower cordial (optional)
85g(3 oz) coarse polenta
140g (5 oz) plain flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
110g (4 oz) caster sugar
110g (4oz) cold butter, diced
Grated zest of 1 lemon
1 medium egg mixed with 1 tablespoon milk
1 tablespoon demerara sugar

Pre-heat an oven to 180C (160C fan oven).  Wash, top and tail the gooseberries.  Place in a pan with the 60g of caster sugar, (if using; add the elderflower head wrapped in muslin) and cook the fruit until just bursting.  (If you've used the elderflower head, remove it and discard).  (If you're using cordial, add it now).  Allow the gooseberries to cool completely.  
Lightly butter an 18cm round deep or 20cm shallow cake tin (4.5cm deep is ideal), preferably loose-bottomed.  Mix the polenta, flour, baking powder and salt together then rub in the cold, diced butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.  Stir in the 100g caster sugar and the lemon zest.  Mix in the egg and milk to form a fairly sticky dough.  
Cover the base of the tin with two thirds of the mix forming a slight lip.  If the gooseberry mixture is very wet, drain off the excess liquid.  Spread the softened gooseberries on the top, not quite to the edge.  Top with the remaining soft dough in random blobs so that the fruit isn't completely covered but paying attention to the edges to stop the fruit leaking out and sticking to the tin.  Sprinkle the tablespoon of demerara sugar on top.  Bake for 30-35  minutes until golden brown.  Leave for 10 minutes before turning out.  

The cake is good served warm or cold with cream and with any leftover gooseberry juice poured over it.  The cake keeps well for a couple of days but will inevitably lose its crunchiness.

Other recipes for gooseberries:
Gooseberry Elderflower Syllabub
Gooseberry Meringue Pie


Recipe inspired by Nigel Slater's 'Rhubarb Polenta Cake'

Elderflower Cordial

Elderflower Lemon & Lime

It's the scent of muscat grapes which attracts me to elderflower.  Leave it too late in the season to pick the blooms and the aroma will be closer to cat's pee - and no one wants that.  It's not just when you pick elderflowers but where also matters; well it does to me.  I know how lucky I am to have an allotment and to have access to elders growing well into the centre of the plots so I'm not about to lecture you on harvesting.  All I will say is, I'd think carefully about where I picked blossom and wouldn't gather from trees close to the pollution contamination of busy roads.

Elderflower  is one of those cordials made for generations in family kitchens.  Like 'blackberrying' it connects us to a time when foraging was the norm.  Then, knowledge of free food was widespread and its harvesting, often, necessary.  The flowers and the berries of the Elder are high in vitamin C so were a valuable addition to the diet.  There is a C17th reference to the drink by John Milton, and the blessed Mrs Beeton offered recipes for cordial and wine.  It wasn't until the mid-80's that commercial brands of Elderflower Cordial began appearing on supermarket shelves.  I have to say, there are some good brands out there, but I love to 'cook' the seasons so, for me, at this time of year it has to be home-made.

This year I managed to harvest elderflowers early in the season when the white flowers were just beginning to open and their scent was fresh and sweet with none of the mustiness which develops later in their flowering.  So, don't delay.  Picked just before yet another deluge and wrapped carefully in an improvised cone of newspaper, I raced home with my free booty.  Fresh muslin-wrapped elderflowers added to soft fruit during cooking can be lovely but, to preserve your harvest of blossoms for weeks to come, you can't beat elderflower cordial.  Last year I left it far too late to make mine.  Although I did grab a fistful of overblown blossom heads, and managed to make a couple of bottles, the taste really wasn't up to the mark.  The proof of the wisdom of picking early is in the drinking.  This year's cordial is sweetly aromatic, fresh-tasting and vibrant and bears little resemblance to last summer's drink.

There are plenty of recipes for elderflower cordial around but it's simply water, sugar, elderflowers and citrus so you can't go too far wrong.  I don't like it too sweet as I find it detracts from the flavour so you'll find this recipe uses less sugar than most, but there's no reason why you shouldn't add a bit extra for a more syrupy result.  I know a lot of people add oranges and lemons but I love limes and much prefer to use them in place of orange.  If you want the cordial to keep beyond a few weeks, add a heaped teaspoon of citric acid (available from shops that sell home-brew kits) at the end and sterilise the bottles in a water bath after filling and sealing.  Alternatively, pour your cold cordial into small plastic bottles, freeze it and defrost a bottle when you want it.

To drink; a ratio of 1:5 cordial to sparkling or still water is about right.  To flavour fruit; add 2 tablespoons to around 500g of fruit.  Elderflower goes particularly well with gooseberries, apricots, cherries, strawberries and raspberries.

Elderflower Cordial
(makes about 2.5 litres)

20-25 just-open Elderflower heads
2 large unwaxed lemons (pour boiling water over and scrub well if not unwaxed)
2 unwaxed limes (pour boiling water over and scrub well if not unwaxed)
1.75 litres water
1kg granulated sugar

Cut any excess stem from the flower heads, shake well to release the inevitable bugs.  Put the heads in a large bowl and grate the zest from all the lemons and limes over the top. Bring the water to the boil  and pour over.  Ensure the flowers are submerged and leave to steep overnight. Keep all your fruits in the fridge to juice the next day.  

Next day, line  a sieve with muslin.  Sterilise the muslin by pouring boiling water over it. Strain  the flower head infusion through it into a stainless steel pan.  Add the reserved citrus juice and the sugar.  Bring slowly to the boil, stirring occasionally to ensure the sugar dissolves fully.  Bring to the boil then simmer for 2-3 minutes.  Use a funnel to pour into hot sterilised swing-top bottles.  

The cordial can be used straight way but the flavour develops more after a week or two kept in a dark cupboard.  It will keeps for about 6 weeks.  Poured, cold, into plastic bottles and frozen it will keep for several months.

More recipes using elderflowers:
Gooseberry Elderflower Syllabub

Carrot Cake with cream cheese

Carrot Cake with cream cheese

There is something about a cake containing vegetables which appeals to me.  Probably because I grow vegetables and am always looking for ways to use them.  When you've worked your way through a glut lasting more than a couple of weeks, even the most beauteous crop of beetroot starts to look ugly unless you can ring the changes in the recipe department.  Oh yes, I am on familiar terms with Nigel Slater's Chocolate Beetroot Cake and I make a mean Courgette and Lemon Cake too.

Not just any vegetable will do, of course, and I'm not prepared to get too wacky in the name of experimentation.  If you stick to vegetables which have a high natural sugar content you can't go far wrong - parsnips, beetroot, pumpkin or sweet potato for instance.  I'm prepared to at least entertain the idea that fennel could work but haven't yet plucked up the courage to try.  To be honest I haven't yet had a glut of fennel and don't hold my breath that I ever will.

I'd love to be able to say I'm pulling carrots from the allotment right now but, though the seeds have germinated better than is normal on my soil, harvest is some way off.  In any case you don't want to use your best carrots for this recipe.  Whatever you can find is fine here, but the better the carrot, the more nutritious the cake.  Carrot cake is arguably the most obvious 'vegetable cake' but search as I would, I never managed to find a recipe that delivered on its promise. Clearly I'm being very difficult to please as there are hundreds of recipes out there.  In fact I do know in which kitchen my perfect recipe resides.  The cake has everything I am looking for - moist, light, properly spiced and not too sweet.  Sadly, the baker is not yet ready to share it with the world.  Until that day, I still I have this masochistic urge to try again.

This recipe is based on Rose Carrarini's Carrot Cake in her first book Breakfast Lunch Tea.  I've changed the sugar from caster to a light muscovado, upped the amount of cinnamon and added a little orange zest.  It's less sweet than most carrot cakes and it keeps really well.  Next time I plan to make it a day ahead of icing it.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with the original recipe so I apologise for changing it, but I just can't resist.  I'm searching for that extra something, and it's worryingly possible that when I find it, only I will appreciate it.

Carrot Cake with cream cheese
Makes a deep 18cm cake - (double the quantities for a 23cm cake)

2 eggs
125g light muscovado sugar
150ml sunflower oil
2 large carrots, grated
75g chopped walnuts
Zest of half an orange
150g plain flour
1 level teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 level teaspoon baking powder

¼ level teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

Pinch of salt

Icing for an 18cm cake - (for a 23cm cake x 1.5):
200g cream cheese
100g unsalted butter, softened
50g icing sugar
Half tsp natural vanilla extract
A few whole or chopped walnuts (optional)

Heat the oven to 180C (Fan oven 160C)/Gas 4.  Using  a deep 18cm cake tin,  butter and line the base with parchment. 
Beat the eggs and muscovado sugar well, until light and fluffy.  
With the mixer still running, pour in the oil fairly slowly until all is well mixed.  
Fold in the carrots, walnuts and orange zest.  
Sieve together the flour, cinnamon, baking powder, bicarbonate of soda and salt and fold into the mixture.
Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and bake for 35-40 minutes (about 50 minutes for a 23cm cake), until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.
Cool the cake in the tin before turning out.
To make the icing, beat the softened butter with the cream cheese until you have a smooth mixture.  Mix in the icing sugar and vanilla extract.
Once the cake is cold, spread the top with icing.  Decorate the top with walnuts if desired.

Yorkshire Curd Tart - Take 2

Yorkshire Curd Tart

My apologies to those of you who have already seen a similar posting from me on this subject but an annoying Blogger glitch which cannot be sorted has left me no choice but to post this recipe again.  Those of you searching for "Yorkshire Curd Tart" should, hopefully, now see both Take 1 and Take 2

In times of austerity most of us need to think a bit more deeply about what we spend our money on.  Whilst food shopping is the last thing I want to cut back on, the cost of food, food waste and food miles are much on people’s minds at the moment.  This set me thinking about how the home-cook coped in the past when money was tight and yet a sweet treat was called for which did not scream ‘frugal’.  The Yorkshire Curd Tart is a good example, but what exactly is it and why does it fit the bill?

To a pot of curd cheese add sugar, a scattering of dried fruit, a pinch of spice, an egg or two and a little butter to enrich the mix, pour it into a pastry case and you have it.  Crunchy pastry, soft, sensuous filling and the fragrance of nutmeg filling  your kitchen as it bakes.  Balm for the soul on a cold winter’s day.  Simple it may be, economical certainly, but parsimonious it is not.  Originally it may have been less sweet than later versions, given that cane sugar was heavily taxed until 1874.  It was not until the Napoleonic and First World wars that the growing of sugar beet in Britain took off, out of necessity.

This is my second version of a recipe for Yorkshire Curd Tart.  Versions can be found in many Yorkshire bakeries, particularly in the north of the county, but sadly many current recipes have drifted a long way from the original.   I titled my first attempt “Take 1” as it was my first attempt to capture the tart I remembered.  A trip to the London Guildhall Library for a browse through their extensive food history section confirmed to me that this dish has a little-documented history and there would be few pointers along the way to finding the definitive recipe.

The narrative which resonates with me is that the Yorkshire Curd Tart was a happy by-product of the cheese-making process.  From a time when most smallholders would keep a cow and produce a few small cheeses, inevitably there would be some leftover curds and, well, in true Yorkshire style, ‘waste not, want not’.  Clearly it originated in Yorkshire but the tart I remember from childhood came from a small County Durham bakery - now sadly no more.   A certain  amount of border-creep has taken place with this dish so it’s not uncommon to still  find it in Durham.

Joan Poulson’s book “Old Yorkshire Recipes” tells of the tarts being traditionally served at “Whitsuntide”.  Thanks to PCD Brears' book “The Gentlewoman’s Kitchen – Great Food in Yorkshire 1650-1750” I learned of “Mrs Tasker” who took the trouble to write down her recipes.  Her notebook is annotated to show she lived in Brayton, near Selby, some 34 miles from the east coast of Yorkshire.  A recipe of 1741  tells of making the curd and, of “butter that is well-washed in rosewater”.  Whether the use of rosewater arrived in England with the Romans or we came to appreciate its delicacy after the Crusades  is debatable.  Both Romans and Moors have long histories of its use and rosewater as a flavouring was certainly documented in Elizabethan England.

Curd cheese, lemons, nutmegs

I've tasted quite a few shop-bought Yorkshire Curd Tarts over the past few months, all made in Yorkshire .  As with most things, you usually get what you pay for.  The best of the bunch came from Betty's of York, but I've always had a taste for their version.  Good as Betty's is, I was hoping to find perfection somewhere out there.  My conclusion is that, these days, this is a tart best made at home.  I needed to put into practice what I’d learned.  Taking Jane Grigson's recipe in her book “English Food” as my starting point, I adapted it as my research took me deeper into the origins of the Yorkshire Curd Tart.  The pastry should be a fine shortcrust, the filling dominated by the soft, pillowy curd - not the egg -  and the fruit should, I think, be currants.  You will need much more nutmeg than you may think, unless you choose to add rosewater too – balance is all.  Some recipes call for breadcrumbs and, if your curd is very loose, I can see why but I prefer not to use any.  The addition of a little melted butter helps the tart acquire that rustic browning on top.  The following recipe is as near as I can get to doing justice to this singular tart.

Some writers advocate substituting “cottage cheese”  for curd.  Do not be tempted as the result will be nothing like intended.  Fromage frais is perhaps nearer to the texture.  The curd consistency is best when fresh (2-4 days old).  If you buy them from a cheese-maker the texture of this natural product will, of course, vary.  You could *make your own curds, or do as I did and get to know an artisan cheese-maker.   Now, just as way back then, they’ll have an amount of surplus curd just crying out to be made into a delicious, fragrant Yorkshire Curd Tart.

Yorkshire Curd Tart - Take 2

 Pastry:

(makes enough for 2 x 22cm tarts)

250g (10oz) plain flour

25g (1oz) ground almonds
150g (6oz) butter
75g (3oz) icing sugar
Grated rind of half a lemon
1 egg yolk
3 tablespoons milk

Filling (makes enough for 1 x 22cm tart)
300g (12oz) curd cheese
2 eggs
125g (5oz) caster sugar
50g (2oz) currants
Grated rind of half a lemon
A good pinch of cinnamon
Half a nutmeg, grated
1 tablespoon of rosewater (optional – if used, reduce the nutmeg a little)
25g melted butter

Sift the flour into a mixing bowl and add the ground almonds.  Add the butter and rub in with fingertips.  Sift in the icing sugar, add grated lemon rind and mix.  Lightly beat the egg yolk and milk together and stir into the dry ingredients.  Mix until the paste just comes together, turn out and knead gently to smooth the surface.  (You will need half of this mixture for your tart so divide and freeze the other half for next time).  Cover and rest in fridge for 30 minutes.

Lightly butter a 22cm shallow tart tin.  Roll out the pastry thinly on a lightly floured surface and line the tin with it.  Prick the base with a fork several times and rest in the fridge for 15-20 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 200C (180C fan oven).  Bake the pastry blind for 10 minutes.  Remove the baking beans and paper, turn down the oven to 180C (160C fan oven) and return the tart to the oven for another 4-5 minutes to fully cook the base.

Mix the curd cheese with the currants, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon rind (and rosewater if using).  Beat the eggs with the sugar then add to the curd mixture along with the cooled melted butter.  Pour into the pastry case and bake in the oven for 30-35 minutes until the top is golden and the filling set.  Once cooled, serve with no embellishment.

*Make a simple lactic curd by bringing 1.5ltrs  of whole  milk (“raw” if you can get it) to just below boiling point, add juice of 1 lemon, leave overnight in a cool place (not the fridge) then pour into a muslin-lined sieve to drain the curds.

A version of this piece appears in The Foodie Bugle

The Modern Peasant - Jojo Tulloh

The Modern Peasant - Adventures in City  Food
Jojo Tulloh

'The Modern Peasant' didn't hook me, it was the subtitle 'Adventures in City Food' that did.  Rooted in this maddening, chaotic, fascinating city of London, it pays to have an adventurous spirit, not least where food is concerned.  It's not the  multiplicity of cuisines on offer in this cosmopolitan metropolis that the author, JojoTulloh, finds so enthralling.  It's the new wave of small urban producers that interest her.  Buying food from them, growing some of her own and making simple food from scratch - "rediscovering an earlier tradition of cookery" - has reconnected her to the source of food.  She sees the word "peasant" not as a negative term but as a description of a person producing high quality food.  Whether they are doing so for pleasure, profit or out of necessity - these are her 'Modern Peasants'.

Like Jojo, I have revelled in the emergence of bakers, brewers, bee-keepers and butchers.  I am ever-delighte to discover cheese makers and ice cream makers tucked into unlikely arches and forgotten corners of the city.  Whenever I can I will inveigle my way behind the scenes .  It's no wonder, then, I seized on The Modern Peasant.

The book starts with a "pilgrimage" to Italy's Apulia region, specifically, to the farmhouse where foodwriter Patience Gray spent the last 35 years of her life.  It was here, with her lover, the sculpture Norman Mommens, that Gray lived off the land and wrote her autobiographical cookbook Honey from a Weed.  If you don't know this book, Jojo Tulloh's introduction will make you want to delve into its pages.  The book and the visit made Tulloh look at her own life and how she procured her food.  She returned to London "determined to eat more weeds (Patience's universal panacea), get bees and seek out those who could teach me their hard-earned skills."

Tulloh makes the case that by producing some of our food ourselves, witnessing the labour that goes into its production or buying direct from the producer, we will appreciate it more and waste less.  For chapters headed Baked, Fermented, Planted, Foraged and Pickled, Preserved, Foraged & Smoked she spent time with producers.  In a bakery she takes us from the description of a container of dough bubbling "like the sac in a bullfrog's throat" to a succinct explanation of autolysis.  She forages on Hampstead Heath with "someone who knows" and enjoys the thrift of making jams and pickles for a well-stocked larder.  Many of these chapters end with some excellent 'Tips", techniques and a few simple recipes.  She shows just how easy and satisfying it is to make your own bread, yoghurt, ricotta or ginger beer.

Like all of us who are fortunate enough to 'borrow' a little piece of land on which to grow crops, Jojo Tulloh values it beyond measure.  In a section titled The Practical Peasant's Year, she makes the point that "To grow something is to become aware of the elements.  Earth, air, sun and fire become part of your consciousness".  That's not to say she is blindly romantic about it.  Time spent on the allotment is "not the most logical or effective use of my time" but "there is a deep calm and concentrated peace that comes from the monotony of task performed outside".  Even when growing feels like a battle "there is a strength there that can be gained and is almost as worthwhile as the produce you take home".

Returning to Patience Gray, The Modern Peasant ends on a few of the foodwriter's recipes and acknowledges that food is not the only important thing in life but it is a daily necessity that shouldn't be made light of.

My enjoyment of this book was helped along by a peppering of great quotes, particularly those taken from William Cobbett's Cottage Economy.  Reading, learning, growing and making has "added another layer" to Jojo Tulloh's life.  I have to say I feel the same way and this book gives voice to that feeling.  It's an interesting and inspiring read and one I am likely to return to in future for reference.

The Modern Peasant - Adventures in City Food
Jojo Tulloh
Illustrated by Lynn Hatzius


Book courtesy of Chatto & Windus

Michael Pollan at the RSA - How cooking can change your life

Home-grown courgette
ready to be 'Cooked'

Michael Pollan seems to be everywhere in London this week.  Yes, he has a book to sell but you've got to admire his stamina.  Maybe it's down to all that good home-cooked food he eats.   Let me say at the outset, I have not read his latest book so this is not a review, but I am a Michael Pollan fan.  It's not that I see him as some kind of guru - though some do - it's that what he has to say so often makes perfect sense to me. His RSA dialogue yesterday was chaired by Tim Lang, Professor of Food Policy at City University, London,  who introduced him as one of the 100 most influential people in the world.  Pollan self-depracatingly pointed out that if he truly was, "then the world would look very different".

His latest book, 'Cooked - A natural history of transformation', is the latest in a series of books exploring our complex relationship with food.  He's sometimes accused of being anti-progress, idealistic and elitist, tags he brushes off lightly.  Pollan is the first to say - and he did again yesterday - that he isn't propounding any radical new thoughts on food, and he isn't trying to turn the clock back either.  Rather he feels that we should be teaching our children to grow food and cook so that they can make choices about food; get away from the mindset of "if it can be outsourced, that's what we should do"; cease to define leisure activities as being "what industry can't do for us".  We need to get the whole family involved in food preparation if we are going to have a healthy relationship with food.  In his own experience, if a child grows and cooks something then he will eat it and appreciate it.

'Cooked' is published at a time when the actions of the processed food industry and its relationship to government are under scrutiny, both in the UK and the USA, like never before.  Pollan propounds instead of feeling powerless in the face of big business, we can refuse to swallow their line that they are making life better for us.  By taking back control of our food, it becomes a political act.  It's what he calls this "middle link" - the processed food industry - that has most influence over our food and health.  They know that the additives they introduce into foods are "addictive" but it's not a word they like to use; they prefer to describe it as "craveability" or "snackability".

Statistics show that home-cooking in the USA has fallen by half since the mid-60's - and where America leads the UK so often follows.  Studies show there are lower rates of obesity in cultures where home cooking is the norm.  Pollan feels we lose contact with the basics of food production and preparation at our peril as home cooking holds families and communities together.  By cooking, as opposed to eating processed foods, he suggests we can break our dependence on corporations while at the same time improving the health and wellbeing our of our family.  This was re-inforced when Pollan revealed the suitably cynical advice given by Harry Balzer, a seasoned market researcher for the food industry, when goaded into answering the question 'what should people eat for good health' he replied "eat anything you want, just cook it yourself".

In 'Cooked', Tim Lang explained, Michael Pollan delved into the 4 elements - fire, water, air (bread) and earth (fermentation/bacteria) -  spending time practically learning about each and considering skills, knowledge and food progress.  He believes many of us fetishise cooking and readily accept we cannot cook because we cannot achieve the standards of professional chefs.  The food industry has demonstrated a phenomenal ability to capitalise on socio-political movements - witness the KFC marketing slogan from the 1970's which was targeted at working women - an illustration of a chicken 'bucket" emblazoned with the words "Women's Liberation".  Thereby redefining 'not cooking' as the progressive thing to do.  Today domestic knowledge is often disparaged as something not worthy of our time.  I should mention here that Pollan is clear that both genders have responsibilities when it comes to cooking and household chores, and so do children.

Asked the inevitable question whether he saw any correlation between class and cooking Pollan said he did, but the answer was probably not quite what the questioner expected.  He opined that real cooking historically came, and continues to come, out of peasant cooking because it's they who had/have to make the most of what's available to them.

On the role of the state, whilst insisting he held no sway at The White House, Pollan praised the efforts of Michelle Obama in championing food growing and healthy eating.  He pointed out however, that her actions so "freaked-out" the powerful food industry that they drew her into a conversation about "reprocessing" processed food and from there she was doomed to failure.  Nevertheless, her digging up of part of the White House lawn to grow vegetables remains a significant example to the world's most powerful nation.

When NYC Mayor Bloomberg faced escalating public health spending with 75% going on diet-related ailments (principally obesity and type-2 diabetes) he was advised the single most significant remedy would be to cut soda consumption.  Trying to ban 32oz soda cups he came up against the power of the fast-food industry.  Whilst legislation may be seen as futile (of course you can order a second 16oz cup, but at least you might stop and think whether you really are that thirsty) Pollan acknowledged that there is no silver bullet but the "nudge effect" can be valuable.

There was even a request for advice on kitchen design, and Pollen managed a thoughtful reply.  There should, he thought, be as much space for food preparation as possible so that everyone in the family can get involved.  On the subject of schooling he feels there are few things more important than growing and cooking and should be given more prominence in our classrooms.

With confirmation that we are 90% bacterial and 10% human, Michael Pollan feels we've figured out a diet for the 10% - those fats, sugars and chemicals which taste so good - but but not for the 90%.  He ended with the advice which will forever be attached to him - "eat food, not too much, mostly plants".  Still, in my opinion, excellent advice.