Home-made orange curd

At this grim, energy sapping time of year, citrus fruits really help perk you up, with those fresh tangy flavours and all that Vitamin C. With my annual batch of marmalade out of the way, I was flicking through a magazine and a recipe for orange curd made my mouth water. I was also making a birthday cake for a friend and it seemed the ideal filling.

The recipe (from the January issue of Waitrose Kitchen) suggested Seville oranges, but I'd used up all mine in the marmalade, so used Navel oranges instead. The directions were quite straightforward. Place all the ingredients in a large saucepan: the zest and juice of 3 oranges and 2 lemons, 4 large eggs, 350g caster sugar and 225g unsalted butter, cubed. Heat the pan gently to melt the butter and beat with a whisk to combine the ingredients, then allow the mixture to gradually thicken, still whisking, until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. In my case, this took a lot longer than the suggested 10 minutes and I had to keep changing hands. It was quite a workout. A bit more whisking was required as it cooled down. Finally, pour the curd into a couple of warm, sterilised jars, seal and store in the fridge. This recipe suggests using the curd within a week, but, as I'd cooked mine for so long (more than half an hour), I'm hanging on to it for a bit longer – I'm enjoying it as a breakfast treat on toast and might throw together an orange meringue pie inspired by my adaptation of the River Café's lemon tart my husband occasionally makes.

Since making the orange curd, I've consulted other recipes and several suggest stirring, rather than whisking which I'm prepared to try next time to save energy. Nigel Slater feels that using a whisk makes the curd lighter and more wobbly. Leith's in their Cookery Bible use a wooden spoon and Pam Corbin in the River Cottage Handbook on Preserves whisks the mixture together and then stirs it until it thickens, as does Marguerite Patten in Jams, Preserves and Chutneys who also points out that you shouldn't cook the curd for "too long" as it continues to thicken once it has cooled down.

Whichever way works best for you, homemade orange or lemon curd is a fabulous winter treat (particularly if followed by a back and shoulder massage if you choose to whisk it).

Oxtail stew: soothing and so simple

I've had a few memorable meals out recently, but there aren't many things that beat a soothing home-cooked supper. At this time of year a rich, hearty casserole goes down really well and you can leave it to cook itself. In this  instance, we went to the theatre for a matinee performance of The Lion King while our stew cooked.

This recipe is based on the one in the Leith's Cookery Bible. They suggest cooking in two stages – two hours, then skimming, adding the tomato purée and lemon juice and cooking for another three hours. I prefer to simply leave it alone for about 5 hours until the meat is tender and falling away from the bones. If you like you can take a peek from time to time and skim as necessary.

2 oxtails, cut into 5cm lengths (total weight about 1.35kg)
seasoned plain flour
30g beef dripping
340g carrots, thickly sliced
225g onions, sliced
150ml red wine
570ml water
a large sprig of fresh thyme
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon tomato purée
a splash of balsamic vinegar
juice 1/2 lemon

Wash and dry the oxtail and toss in the seasoned flour. Fry the oxtail in the dripping, a few pieces at a time, turning them around so they gain plenty of colour. Place them in a large casserole dish. Brown the carrots and onions in the same pan and add them to the casserole. Pour the wine into the frying pan and allow it to bubble, scraping any bits off the bottom of the pan. Pour into the casserole and add the water. Add all the remaining ingredients, stir, cover and cook at 150°C/Gas Mark 2 for about 5 hours (see note in introduction).

Keeping things simple and wintery, and making the most of the unctuous gravy, I served the stew with suet dumplings. Make them according to the instructions on the packet and cook on the surface of the stew. All that leaves is perhaps another vegetable – an easy and very satisfying winter meal.

To drink
Any big hearty red will do nicely here – muscular and flavoursome. We had a gutsy Grenache-Syrah blend from the Languedoc.

Moussaka: loving comfort for summer

We've had some crazy weather this year. Winter was one of the most wintery imaginable and spring was a scorcher. We even had a barbecue on Easter Monday when we spent a wonderful day in the garden. Summer, not surprisingly, has so far been a mixed bag. On some of the more dismal days I've yearned for classic comfort food and we've had casseroles and shepherds pie (and Simon Hopkinson's baked pasta with porcini), but this week I particularly fancied moussaka.

I have very close friends (including a godson) in Athens who I've been thinking about a lot lately and, over the years, they've treated me to some magnificent Greek home cooking. 

As well as amazing seafood and salads, memorable meals have included little pies filled with courgettes and dill and, of course, moussaka. It's the kind of dish the older mothers cook for the younger generation to enjoy after a day at work. As is customary in hot climates, dishes like this are served warmish (even tepid). I find moussaka a bit oily at this temperature and much prefer it hot. Until this week I hadn't realised quite how much work went into this dish – it took me about at two hours of hands-on cooking! In Greece, I'm sure they're much more nifty, but, even so, moussaka is a real labour of love.

I used a recipe from the Leith's Cookery Bible which tasted very similar to moussakas lovingly prepared by Xeni, my godson's grandmother. I doubled the amount of sauce and tweaked the recipe accordingly. 

Moussaka 

(serves 4)

olive oil

675g lean lamb, minced

1 large onion, finely chopped

1 clove of garlic, crushed

3 tomatoes (I used 3 tablespoons of chopped tinned tomatoes)

150ml dry white wine

150ml pint water

salt and freshly ground black pepper

a handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped

a pinch of grated nutmeg

1 medium aubergine

2 large potatoes, peeled

15g dried breadcrumbs

30g butter

30g plain flour

1 bay leaf

600ml milk

2 egg yolks

2 tbsp double cream

110g Cheddar cheese, grated

Heat a little oil in a large saucepan and brown the meat in it. Tip off any excess fat. Put the meat in a bowl. Add the onions and garlic to the pan. Cook, stirring for 5 minutes. Return the meat to the pan. If you're using fresh tomatoes, dip them in boiling water for 10 minutes, peel, chop and add to the meat. Or spoon in the tinned tomatoes. Add the wine, water, salt, pepper, parsley and nutmeg and cook over a low heat, stirring often, for 30 minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated.

Preheat the oven to 170°C/Gas Mark 3. Cut the aubergine into thin slices, salt lightly and leave for about 30 minutes for some of the juice to drain out. Rinse and dry well on a cloth. Cook the potatoes in boiling salted water until just tender. Cool and slice.

Heat a little more oil in a frying pan and fry each slice of aubergine on both sides until well browned, but not burnt. Put the aubergine slices in the bottom of a large casserole (or oven-proof dish). Sprinkle on the breadcrumbs. Now tip in half the meat mixture. Put half the sliced potato in next, seasoning with salt and pepper, then the remaining meat, and then the rest of the potato.

Melt the butter in a saucepan. Stir in the flour, add the bay leaf and then the milk, and stir constantly until it comes to the boil. Season with salt and pepper and leave simmering while you mix the egg yolks and cream in a bowl. 

Pour the sauce on to the egg yolks and cream, stirring all the time. Add half the cheese. Pour the sauce over the casserole. Sprinkle the rest of the cheese over the top.

Cook in the preheated oven for 1 hour, then test with a skewer; the whole mass should be soft. The top should be browned too, but if not, finish off under the grill.

Wine

While any number of Greek wines would have been ideal (notably juicy ripe reds from Nemea or their modern, elegant rosés), we didn't have any to hand. However, our bottle of Sainsbury's Taste the Difference Côtes du Rhône Villages 2010 (produced for them by Chapoutier, £6.79) hit the spot perfectly with its supple, ripe, peppery fruit and balanced acidity. 

A couple of classics and an attempt at a balanced diet

I'm afraid I'm being a bit self-indulgent here by reliving a couple of recent meals. Last Thursday I had the privilege of cooking an absolutely magnificent t-bone steak – a perk I'd received the previous day, when I helped out at a rather meaty photo-shoot. Consequently, on Friday night, we opted for something a little lighter –  cheese soufflé. Which did I enjoy most? It was a close thing, but I'd have to say it was the steak – an awesome piece of meat, beautifully tender with deep, complex flavours (the fillet side was surprisingly flavoursome and gamey) and perfect for sharing.

We enjoyed the steak with potatoes sautéed in duck fat with rosemary and some broccoli. I seasoned the meat generously with Maldon salt and black pepper and there was no need to used any oil the pan.

As the steak was nicely thick, I made sure the fatty edge had the chance to colour up and render. I had boiled the potatoes first and given them a good shake to roughen them up (chuff them) before frying.

A bottle of youthful, vigorous Jones Rouge from the Languedoc provided some tannic grip and succulent ripe, spicy fruit.

Such was my reverence for this beautiful piece of meat, at the end of the evening I couldn't resist photographing the stripped bone. There was something powerfully arresting, dark and pagan about it that really caught my imagination (or perhaps it's just me being a hard-core carnivore).

After such a meat-fest, on Friday we needed something a little lighter (and preferably meat-free). Cheese soufflé seemed a sensible choice. I cook this on quite a regular basis and have always got good results following the clear recipe in the Leith's Cookery Bible. Friday's soufflé was particularly cheesy as I used up some Keen's Extra Mature Cheddar that we'd had since Christmas. It wanted using up and was great to cook with. A well-dressed mixed salad would make an easy and refreshing accompaniment, but we kept things simple and roasted some tomatoes in the oven at the same time as the soufflé. A bottle of Valpolicella Ripasso worked well with the cheese and tomato flavours, its fresh acidity standing up nicely to the eggy richness.

Cheese soufflé 
60g butter
dried white breadcrumbs
45g plain flour
3/4 teaspoon dry English mustard
a pinch of cayenne pepper
385ml milk
112g strong Cheddar of Gruyère, grated
6 eggs separated
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Serves 2–3

Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Melt a knob of the butter and brush a 20cm soufflé dish with it. Lightly dust with the breadcrumbs.

Melt the remaining butter in a saucepan and stir in the flour, mustard and cayenne pepper. Cook for 45 seconds. Add the milk and cook, stirring vigorously, for 2 minutes. The mixture will get very thick and leave the sides of the pan. Remove from the heat.

Stir in the cheese, egg yolks, salt and pepper. Taste; the mixture should be very well seasoned.

Whisk the egg whites until stiff but not dry, and mix in a spoonful into the cheese mixture. Then fold in the remainder and pour into the soufflé dish, which should be about two-thirds full. Run your finger around the top of the soufflé mixture. This gives a "top hat" appearance to the cooked soufflé.

Bake in the preheated oven for 40 minutes and serve immediately. (Do not test to see if the soufflé is done for at least 30 minutes. Then open the oven just wide enough to get your hand in and give the soufflé a slight shove. If it wobbles alarmingly, cook for a further five minutes or so.)

http://eastlondonsteak.co.uk/
http://www.domainejones.com/

Red cabbage with orange and spice

Red cabbage is one of winter's highlights. This beautiful vegetable costs very little and goes an incredibly long way – so much so that I end up freezing most of it. We love it with any type of meat and it is particularly good with game. This version includes orange and is fabulous with duck and I'm really looking forward to having it with our Christmas dinner, especially the gammon. Juniper would be another nice addition and would be particularly good with pork. It's also seriously wine-friendly (notably red Burgundy).

This recipe is based on one from a favourite cookery book, Leith's Cookery Bible (although orange isn't included in the original).

1 small red cabbage
1 onion, sliced (red onion also works well)
30g butter
2 apples, peeled and sliced
1 large orange, zest removed in large slices with a small paring knife
juice from the orange
2 teaspoons soft brown sugar
2 teaspoons wine vinegar or cider vinegar
a pinch of ground cloves
salt and freshly ground black pepper

The book says this serves six but, as I like to use a larger cabbage and ramp up the other ingredients, it can serve up to 10.

Start off by shredding the cabbage, discarding any hard stalks. Rinse well.

In a large heavy pan (a preserving pan is ideal), melt the butter and fry the onion until soft. Add the drained, but still wet cabbage, the apples, sugar, vinegar, cloves, orange juice and slices of zest; season with salt and pepper. Mix well.

Cover with a lid and allow to cook on a low heat for a couple of hours, stirring occasionally, until soft and reduced in bulk. During cooking, if the cabbage starts drying out, add more water. Check seasoning before serving – it may need more salt, pepper or sugar.