To celebrate Observer Food Monthlys 15th birthday, Nigel Slater shares his favourite dishes from 1,000 created for the magazine and others never seen before
Recipes have always been at the heart of OFM. They spring from the simple idea of enthusiastic cooks sharing ideas, passing on a recipe they have made in the hope that others too might find it delicious. Over the years many of our recipes have come from professional chefs, others from cookery writers, home cooks, producers, growers, the occasional celebrity. Some of them have been mine. Nearly a thousand if my maths is correct.
For this special birthday issue, I have brought together a collection of new recipes but among them you will find a few old favourites I have rethought. I have always enjoyed tweaking my own recipes, rethinking an earlier idea. Bringing a suggestion up to date, getting a new perspective, introducing a different ingredient, dispensing with the unnecessary.
Our eating doesnt stand still, so why should our recipes? Yes, there is always that trusty coffee and walnut cake we bring out at every opportunity (and so we should), and a time-honoured classic is always worth repeating, but I celebrate that there is always a new take on a recipe waiting in the wings. The chance to revise, refresh and rethink can often be deliciously rewarding.
The recipes that follow, one for each of the magazines 15 years, have been huge fun to produce. I hope there is something for everyone. The lamb roasted over flatbread has become a favourite at home, especially if you use quite thick flatbread, so the outside crisps and the inside soaks up the sweet, herby fat from the roasting meat. The lemon creme fraiche ice cream with warm crumble kept me dipping into the freezer with my teaspoon for days. The artichoke bruschetta has become a new place to turn for lunch-at-my-desk.
So here are 15 recipes its a pleasure for me to share with you. Because sharing is what recipes are all about.
Porcini herb broth
I have long been a fan of using dried mushrooms to make a deep and beefy broth. Porcini are expensive, but you only need a very few to produce a glowing, umami-fuelled stock. Cream of mushroom soup has never quite hit the spot for me, altogether too bland and often curiously sweet. To a clear soup of dried porcini I have added sliced, grilled mushrooms (you could use pretty much any variety from portobello to penny bun). The mushrooms dry out unnervingly on the griddle but their flavour concentrates and they take on wonderful smoky notes. Thrown into the soup they plump up and fulfil their promise.
Serves 4-6
dried flageolet 150g
dried porcini 20g
portobello mushroom 1 large
chestnut mushrooms 100g
penny bun or other large mushrooms 150g
lemon thyme 12 sprigs (about 2 tsp of leaves)
dill fronds a small handful
pea shoots or watercress 12 stems
Soak the flageolet overnight in cold water. The next day, drain then bring the beans up to the boil in deep, unsalted water. Lower the heat to a simmer then cook the beans for 40-50 minutes until they are tender and as soft as you like them. (I like mine with a little bite left in them.)
Put the dried porcini in a large, deep saucepan and add two litres of water. Bring the water to the boil, then lower the heat and leave to simmer for a good 40 minutes. Season with salt and black pepper, tasting as you go. You will need to be quite generous with the seasoning.
Slice the fresh mushrooms (about the thickness of two pound coins on top of each other). Warm a grill or griddle and cook the mushrooms on both sides. Use no oil unless your pan is unseasoned. Alternatively, you could fry them in a frying pan, brushed with a film of olive oil. Remove the mushrooms and add to the broth.
Tear the leaves from the lemon thyme and add most of them to the broth (save a few for the end), then continue to simmer, letting the liquid reduce until you have a deep mushroom flavour. Add the cooked, drained beans and heat thoroughly, then, just before ladling the soup into deep bowls, add the dill fronds and pea shoots or watercress.
Grilled asparagus with pea and mint puree
I am old enough to remember when asparagus was considered a luxury, a catch-it-while-you-can, seasonal crop sold at a premium price. Nowadays a bunch of long, British-grown spears costs little more than a bag of frozen peas. Butter remains a popular accompaniment, as is hollandaise sauce, but I prefer something a little brighter tasting to dip my spears in, such as the pea and mint puree here.
Serves 2-4
asparagus 600g
olive oil a little
peas 300g (frozen or podded weight)
butter 70g
mint leaves 10
Warm a griddle pan over a moderate heat. Trim the asparagus spears, removing the dry ends of the stalks, then toss in a little oil.
Put the peas on to cook in boiling, lightly salted water. Let them cook for 4-5 minutes. Melt the butter with 70ml of water in a small pan over a high heat then set aside.
Place the oiled asparagus on the griddle and turn as the underside browns. They should be tender but retain more crispness than if you boiled them.
Drain the peas and tip into the jug of an electric blender or the bowl of a food processor. Pour in the butter and water mixture, add the mint leaves and process to a smooth puree. Serve the puree with the hot, griddled asparagus.
Crab and tomato soup
Crab soups vary from the heavy, cream-laden bisques of French classical cookery to the clear, light Japanese broths with their cargo of pure white snow crab. The soup that follows lies somewhere between the two. There is substance, but also lightness. In high summer, this thick puree of tomatoes and peppers with its crown of white crab meat can be served as a salad. On other occasions, file under first course.
Serves 4
garlic 1 small clove
cherry tomatoes 300g
cucumber 1
romano peppers 2
birds-eye chilli 1
sherry vinegar 2 tbsp
white crab meat 300g
mustard and cress or watercress to finish
Peel the garlic and place in the jug of an electric blender or food processor. Tip in the cherry tomatoes. Peel the cucumber, then halve and cut one half into two or three pieces and add to the tomatoes and garlic. Finely dice the second half of the cucumber and set aside.
Roughly chop the romano peppers and add to the vegetables in the blender. Process the vegetables until you have a brilliant red puree, then season with the sherry vinegar and a little salt and black pepper. Fold the reserved diced cucumber into the white crab meat, taking care not to crush the flakes of crab.
Pour the soup into four bowls. Spoon the crab on top of the soup, add a pinch of mustard and cress and serve.
Prawns with lime and ginger marinade
Regular readers will know I dont have much time for starters. They dont really fit into the informal way I eat. There is, however, the odd occasion I need to serve something before the main dish. This recipe, of sharp, fresh flavours and light textures, fits the bill sensitively enough. When this recipe first appeared (in July 2002) I used red mullet, but prawns are easier to find and considerably cheaper, so I often use those instead.
Serves 2
rice wine vinegar 3 tbsp
lime juice of 1
lemon juice of 1
banana shallot 1 small
red birds-eye chilli 1
lime leaves 3
star anise 2
palm sugar 1 tsp
coriander seeds 1 tsp
black peppercorns 8
carrot 1 medium
olive oil 4 tbsp, plus a little extra for frying
large prawns 10, raw, shell on
fresh ginger a 10g piece
fresh coriander a handful
Put the rice wine vinegar and lime and lemon juices into a stainless steel saucepan. Peel and finely slice the shallot and add to the pan. Halve, deseed and finely chop the chilli, then add together with the lime leaves, whole but lightly crushed to release their fragrance, and the star anise. Stir in the palm sugar, then the coriander seeds and peppercorns and let the mixture simmer for a minute or two over a moderate heat. Peel the carrot and slice it very finely and add to the pan together with the olive oil and continue cooking for minute or two.
Shell the prawns and split them down the back with a large knife. Remove the black thread that runs just under the skin it should just pull away and open the prawns out almost flat. Warm a griddle or frying pan over a high heat, then oil the prawns lightly and place them, cut side down on the hot griddle. Leave them for a couple of minutes to lightly colour then turn and cook the other side for a further minute or until the flesh becomes opaque.
Grate the ginger finely into the dressing. Put the prawns in a shallow dish and pour the hot dressing over them. Leave to cool then cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for 4 hours. Serve cool with a sprinkling of coriander leaves.
Roast pork, black pudding and apple stuffing, cabbage salad
The family roasts, of which there here have been many over the last 15 years, are among some of the most popular of OFMs recipes. For this one, a majestic, crackling-framed roast stuffed with black pudding and apples, you will need a pork shoulder, skin on, bones removed. Ask the butcher to score the skin for crackling. A friend will prove invaluable for helping you secure the stuffed roast with kitchen string.
Serves 6
boned pork shoulder 2-2.5kg
For the stuffing
onions 2
olive oil 3 tbsp
black pudding 200g
sausage meat 450g
dessert apple 1
sage leaves 3
For the cabbage salad
brussels sprouts 300g
red cabbage 250g
radishes 50g
white wine vinegar 3 tbsp
water 2 tbsp
caster sugar 1 tsp
salt tsp
Set the oven at 220C/gas mark 7. Peel the onions and roughly chop them, then warm the oil over a moderate heat and let the onions cook for 10 minutes till soft and translucent.
Remove the onions from the heat and crumble in the black pudding and the sausage meat. Coarsely grate or finely cube the apple and fold into the sausage meat mixture together with a seasoning of salt and pepper and the whole sage leaves.
Place the pork skin side down on a chopping board and, if necessary, remove any string the butcher may have tied it with. Spread the stuffing thickly over the meat then pull the edges up together and tie at 3cm intervals with string. (I always find a helping hand very useful at this point.) Season the pork with salt, rubbing it down into the score marks in the skin.
Place the joint of pork in a roasting tin, roast in the preheated oven for 30 minutes, then lower the heat to 160C/gas mark 3 and continue cooking for a further 70-90 minutes until the pork is done to your liking. (Cover the pork with foil if it appears to be browning too much.) Remove from the oven and leave to rest, covered loosely with foil, for 20 minutes before carving.
Meanwhile, to make the cabbage salad, trim and finely shred the brussels sprouts, then shred the red cabbage. Cut the radishes into quarters. Bring the wine vinegar, water, caster sugar and salt to the boil. As soon as the salt and sugar have dissolved, tip the dressing over the vegetables, cover with a lid or clingfilm and set side for 30-40 minutes. Toss the ingredients from time to time.
Guindilla and mozzarella toasts
I introduced this chilled, marinated mozzarella (in 2004) as a salad, using the diminutive bocconcini rather than cutting the larger and more usual size of Italian buffalo milk cheese into slices. Mercifully, this useful, hens egg size variation is now easier to locate. I liked the pinch and punch of the pickled guindilla chillies against the mild, milky cheese of the original recipe. Making the salad again for lunch last winter it crossed my mind how good the cheese might be melted under the grill with the pepper-spiced oil being used to soak a few rounds of accompanying rough-edged toast.
Makes 4 rounds (enough for 2)
mozzarella 250g
olive oil 120ml
black peppercorns 8
guindillas in brine or water 4
capers 12
caperberries 4
sourdough bread 4 slices for toast
marinated artichokes 4
coriander or parsley to finish
In a large, shallow china dish, place the mozzarella, halved if small, thickly sliced if large, in a single layer. Pour the olive oil over the mozzarella then tuck the black peppercorns, whole guindilla chillies, capers and caperberries in between the pieces of cheese. Cover the dish with clingfilm then refrigerate overnight.
The next day toast the bread lightly then divide the mozzarella between the toasts, tucking in the halved artichokes as you go. Add the chillies, capers and caperberries from the marinade then trickle a little of the oil over each. Cook under the oven-grill for 3-4 minutes until the cheese starts to melt. A little chopped coriander or parsley at the end would be good.
Lamb belly flatbread
Lamb belly is still hugely underrated and mercifully cheap. As it roasts, the fat and juices from the meat fall onto the flatbreads in the roasting tin below. Make sure your belly has a nice layer of fat.
Serves 6
lamb belly 1kg, skinned and boned
ras el hanout 2 tbsp
olive oil
flatbread 500g (6 slices)
For the sauce
dill 10g
mint leaves 10g
yogurt 500ml
white wine vinegar a splash
Preheat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4. Place the lamb belly skin side up on a chopping board, then cut into two pieces that will fit your roasting tin. Score deep lines into the surface with a very sharp knife, about 2cm apart, going approximately half way through the meat. Then slash in the opposite direction, to give a lattice effect.
Scatter the ras el hanout over the surface, then rub evenly over the meat, pushing the ground spice mixture down into the cuts. Season evenly with salt. Place the meat on a wire rack that will fit neatly on top of your roasting tin.
Pour a film of oil on the base of the roasting tin then snugly fit the pieces of flatbread into the tin, in a single layer. Place the rack over the top and then put in the oven to roast. Leave for 1 hour and 10 minutes, watching carefully, letting the juices and melting fat from the lamb drip onto the flatbread. The bread will turn crisp and golden in places and be saturated with the hot fat in others.
Roughly chop the dill and the leaves from the mint then stir into the yogurt with a splash of white wine vinegar.
Remove the lamb from the oven and leave to rest for 10 minutes. Lift the lamb onto a chopping board and cut into thick slices. Serve the bread in a pile together with the bowl of herb yogurt and the slices of hot lamb.
Chicken wings with orange and green olive relish
An update of my 2001 recipe for chicken cooked with olives and oranges. I have swapped the thighs for wings and the olives are now green rather than black, served as a coarse-textured relish with gherkins and parsley. The recipe is cheaper, the skin more crisp and savoury, the result now something to pick up and eat with your fingers altogether more fun to eat.
Serves 2 (with some relish left over use it on toast)
large chicken wings 12
orange 1 small
olive oil 3 tbsp
thyme 8 sprigs
For the relish
cucumber 100g
green olives 100g, stoned
gherkins 80g
finely chopped parsley 3 tbsp
olive oil 3 tbsp
lemon juice optional
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6.
Put the chicken wings in a roasting tin. The tin should be large enough that the wings can sit on a single layer. Halve the orange and squeeze over the chicken. Add the olive oil, a generous grinding of both salt and black pepper, then pull the leaves from the thyme and add to the pan. Toss the wings in the oil and orange then roast for about 35-40 minutes till the wings are golden-brown and sticky. Prize them away from the pan if they have stuck here and there.
Meanwhile, make the olive relish. Peel and very finely dice the cucumber, dice the olives and the gherkins then mix them, in a small bowl, with the chopped parsley and the olive oil. You may like to add a little lemon juice too. Serve the chicken wings, sizzling hot from the oven, together with the olive relish.
Grilled lamb, parmesan, buttermilk polenta
I am less fond of the coarse grained variety of polenta, the cornmeal that needs a good 45 minutes attention from your stirring arm. The fine version is another matter, especially when we up the liquid levels so that the mixture is altogether creamier. Gild the lily a little further, with butter or cream, and you have one of my favourite starchy accompaniments. I stirred cream, butter and parmesan cheese into a fine-meal polenta to accompany a fist of lamb cutlets, grilled till the bones charred. I shall probably get told off for the amount of butter and cheese, but who cares when the effect is a luxurious, silky paste in which to dip your lamb bones?
Serves 4
chicken stock 500ml
buttermilk 500ml
fine polenta 150g
butter 80g
double cream 250ml
parmesan 80g, finely grated
lamb cutlets 8
Pour the chicken stock and buttermilk into a large, deep pan and place over a moderate heat. Bring the mixture to the boil, then salt generously. Rain the polenta into the liquid in a steady stream, stirring continuously. Take great care that the mixture doesnt bubble and spit at you (it can be like a volcano). Lower the heat as necessary. Keep stirring over the heat for a good 20-30 minutes until the mixture is smooth and starts to leave the sides of the pan.
Beat the butter into the polenta. Warm the cream in a small saucepan, then stir into the polenta with the grated parmesan. Check the seasoning, adding black pepper to taste.
Place the lamb cutlets on a hot griddle pan and cook for a couple of minutes on each side (alternatively cook under a hot oven-grill) till the fat is crisp and golden and the inside is still deep pink. Serve with the polenta, letting everyone dip their cutlets into the creamy cornmeal.
Lettuce, herb mayonnaise and smoked salted almonds
Occasionally a lettuce is so beautiful it feels almost sacrilegious to dress it. On such an occasion recently I presented the lettuce cut into quarters to show the beauty of its leaves, then served the dressing a mustard-spiked mayonnaise thinned with a little cream and seasoned with spring herbs on the side. Each of us used the leaves to wipe the dressing from our plates.
For 2 as a side dish
lettuce 1, perfect and crisp
mayonnaise 4 heaped tbsp
smooth dijon mustard 1 tsp
double cream 150ml
mixed, chopped fresh herbs 4 tbsp (dill, parsley, cress)
For the nuts
olive oil 1 tbsp
whole skinned almonds 30g
smoked salt flakes 2 tsp
Wash the lettuce, whole, making sure to rinse carefully between the layers of leaves. Dry the lettuce in a salad spinner.
For the nuts, warm the oil in a shallow pan over a low to moderate heat then add the almonds. Let the nuts cook gently, tossing them occasionally, for five minutes or until they are fragrant and golden brown. Tip the smoked salt flakes onto a plate and crush lightly with a spoon. Remove the nuts from the pan with a draining spoon and toss in the smoked salt.
Put the mayonnaise in a bowl and stir in the mustard. Very lightly whip the cream till it just starts to thicken then fold into the mayonnaise and check for seasoning. You may want to add a little more mustard.
Stir the chopped dill, parsley and cress through the dressing. Cut the lettuce into quarters through the stem and place on a serving dish. Dress the lettuce with the herb mayonnaise, then scatter the smoked salted almonds over the top.
Baked shallots with cream and parmesan
The recipe for onions baked in cream first appeared in February 2004. It appealed not only because of its simplicity but because the richness of the cheese sauce was flattering to the humble onion. What worked especially well for me was the contrast between the over-the-top creaminess of the sauce and the sweet, juicy simplicity of the large Spanish onion. Its a good dish to accompany roast beef but it is equally satisfying served with boiled, lightly spiced brown rice (cinnamon stick, cloves, garlic). I have got into the habit of seasoning the cream with the occasional herb or spice. Thyme works well if the dish is to accompany roast lamb; garam masala if Im eating it with a rice pilau. The loveliest has been the addition of the aniseed notes of chopped fresh tarragon. I know of no other herb that works so perfectly with a creamy recipe such as this.
Serves 4 as a side dish
banana shallots 4 large
olive oil 3 tbsp
double cream 250ml
creme fraiche 100ml
tarragon 10g
parmesan 40g, grated
Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Peel the shallots and cut them in half lengthways. Warm the oil in a shallow non-stick pan over a moderate heat. Place the onions, cut side down, in the hot oil and leave to colour lightly on the underside.
Transfer the onions to a baking dish, cut side up. Mix the cream and creme fraiche in a bowl. Pull the tarragon leaves from their stems and roughly chop, then add them to the cream together with most of the grated parmesan and a seasoning of black pepper.
Pour the cream and herb mixture over the shallots then scatter the remaining parmesan over the surface. Bake for 25 minutes till the top is nicely browned.
Hot summer pudding with sloe gin
I am a long-time believer in the pleasures of seasonal eating. But, like any open-minded eater, I am happy to make exceptions. To my mind, summer pudding is far too good to keep for the dog days of July and August. (I feel much the same about the short window tradition forces upon my Christmas pudding.)
I make summer pudding all year, using frozen berries and currants without apology. My knee-jerk reservation that the quintessential pudding of late summer doesnt feel quite right when frost is on the ground is blown to pieces when the mess of bread, berries and juice is transformed into a hot pudding. (The juice is particularly glorious when warm. A tot of sloe gin adds a heady fragrance.) A word of caution though, dont try to turn it out in traditional style. The steaming, juice-saturated bread is far too fragile to stand up.
Serves 6
mixed berries 650g (blueberries, blackberries, raspberries)
caster sugar 75g
water 200ml
sloe gin 75-100ml
white bread 400g
double cream a jug, to serve
You will need a baking dish approximately 26-28cm in diameter.
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Pick over the fruits, removing any stems and stalks. Put the berries into a large stainless steel pan with the sugar and the water, then bring to the boil. Lower the heat and simmer for five minutes or so till the berries have popped and their juices are flowing. Stir in the sloe gin.
Cut the bread into 1cm thick slices then use a 7cm cookie cutter to cut out small discs of bread. Put the bread trimmings into the base of the dish then cover with the fruit and half of the syrup. Place the discs of bread in a single layer over the surface, each piece slightly overlapping the previous one. Spoon the remaining fruit syrup over the top and bake in the preheated oven for 25 minutes or until piping hot. Serve hot, with cream.
Coffee meringue with chocolate and ginger cream
Meringues are capricious, and can crackle satisfyingly or bounce like a marshmallow, apparently at whim. I find warming the sugar before adding it to the stiffly beaten whites a help towards securing the perfect crisp outer shell and marshmallowy interior, as is my habit of sliding them into a hot oven then immediately turning down the heat. Even then, on a damp day, your meringues can be as soft as a feather pillow. My recipe usually involves a sharp accompaniment of some sort a lemon curd, blueberry compote or simply the seeds and sunset-orange pulp of raw passion fruit. But this latest rendition sees them flavoured with coffee and filled with a ginger biscuit-flavoured cream and a splatter of dark chocolate. If you can, use the thick crumbly type of ginger biscuits rather than snappy old ginger nuts.
Makes 8 large meringues
For the meringue
caster sugar 300g
eg
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