Riad al Massarah: an exquisite taste of Morocco

Late in 2011 my mother and I treated ourselves to a short trip to Marrakech. While planning this trip, I researched widely online – as you do – to select the right accommodation. As we were only going to be there four nights, we wanted somewhere conveniently located. We also wanted a soothing and relaxing refuge from the hustle and bustle of the souks. My online meanderings led me to Riad al Massarah on the outer fringe of the Medina, in the Bab Doukkala neighbourhood. It looked beautiful, offered hammam treatments and delicious sounding meals and had received legions of excellent reviews. What's more, owners Michael and Michel could not have been more helpful with my inquiries.

On a Monday in mid November we touched down in Marrakech. It was warm and our taxi (organised by the riad) took us into the Medina, passing the exotic terracotta ramparts of the 'Rose City'. We had to make the last few hundred yards on foot, guided by a representative of the riad, with a porter transporting our luggage on a cart, expertly negotiating the tiny cobbled alleyways.

After passing through an anonymous wooden door, we entered the riad. The contrast could not be more dramatic, glancing around at the elegant surrounds, lit by flickering lanterns and inhaling the sweetly spiced aromas of the food. They were even playing some jazz music that could have been lifted straight from my iPod at home; the dulcet tones of Stacey Kent provided a memorable welcome.

After quickly freshening up, we headed to the small dining room for the first of two excellent meals we enjoyed at the riad. We ate elsewhere during our stay in Marrakech, but even the highly rated Al Fassia disappointingly fell short of what we were treated to by chef Abdelwahed at Riad al Massarah.

On the first evening we enjoyed a gently spicy soup (like a cross between minestrone and lentil soup), followed by aubergine caviar and courgettes chermoula. The main course was a tangy tagine of chicken and preserved lemon which included peas, tomatoes and artichoke hearts. A fruity Cabernet-based red from near Essaouira, Cuvée du President, coped well with the array of flavours.

The next morning, after our breakfast of fruit salad, garnished with pomegranate seeds and rosewater, home-made yoghurt, freshly squeezed orange juice, eggs cooked to order and coffee (which you can have on the roof terrace or on the balcony, overlooking the internal courtyard) we joined Abdelwahed food shopping in the local souk.

On our third night we were able to experience more of Abdel's cooking when, after a gin and tonic on the roof terrace, we settled back into the intimate dining room for the second time.

Again we started with soup, this time velvety textured and made from carrots, courgettes, turnips and gently spiced with cinnamon, served with a slick of oil and more cinnamon. I love root vegetable soup and have made several versions of this since being back in London – perfect for this time of year (especially when you have some delicious Moroccan spices handy). This was followed by two salads: pumpkin and cinnamon and grated carrot dressed with orange flower water. They weren't much to look at, but the exotic flavours were in complete harmony. Simple, but so effective and another inspiring seasonal dish.

Our main course was slow-cooked lamb with figs and walnuts, seasoned with a touch of cinnamon. The sweetly spiced meat just fell apart and was so well complimented by the rich figs and crunchy nuts. The lamb was nicely accompanied by Terres Rouges, another juicy, easy-drinking modern Moroccan red.

We finished the meal with a palate cleansing dessert called mahalabia made from milk, orange juice and orange flower water. It was a little like blancmanche with fruity orange layer across the top. An appropriately refreshing end to the meal. We were the only guests eating that night and it was like having a private chef – we felt quite pampered.

If the length of your stay allows (sadly ours didn't), the riad offers cookery workshops and organises day trips. Another time. The owners also help you maximise your stay in Marrakech by giving you a wonderfully frank low-down on where to go (and what not to bother with). However, on my next visit, I'd be tempted to spend more time within the blissful confines of Riad al Massarah. This really was an exquisite taste of Morocco. (Here are a few more pictures of this gorgeous place!)

Muscadet in mid-winter

It's not an obvious choice for sub-zero temperatures and while snow is still on the ground, but I do love a crisp, invigorating white to enliven the palate this time of year.

Last night we enjoyed the single vineyard Muscadet Côtes de Grandlieu Sur Lie Fief Guérin I'd picked up from Waitrose before Christmas for about £6.50. I zoned in on it as it seemed an attractive option for our supper: aubergines cooked with soy, ginger, garlic, chilli and sesame, garnished with yoghurt, fresh mint and lime and served with noodles. Sipping it before dinner was a treat. The crisp, fresh salinity always make a mouthwatering apéritif and, once we were tucking into the food, the extraordinary versatility of Muscadet became clear. Yes, this is a wine that is perfectly suited to simply prepared fish and seafood – I can't think of anything I'd rather drink with moules-frîtes – but, because of its tingling acidity and subtle aromas, it's a seriously good food wine that can take on some big flavours. It cut through the rich, fatty aubergine like a rapier, yet had enough presence to stand up to the heat and power of the other ingredients. What's more, coming from such a northerly location, the alcohol level is only 12°.

Muscadet is often regarded as old-fashioned, but this demonstrated how contemporary and exciting it can taste (and sealing it with a screwcap will certainly help maximise the fresh purity of the wine – nothing stale and sharp here).

PS Look out for Sainsbury's Taste the Difference Muscadet de Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie for about the same price: another great value example of this often overlooked wine.

Seville and ginger marmalade

Until earlier this week, winter had been pretty mild. It's all changed now, though. Here in London we have vivid blue skies, bright sunshine, but it's bitterly cold. Perfect weather for making and, indeed, eating marmalade. Rather than turning on the heating, why not base yourself in the kitchen and let a large pan of this amber nectar simmer away, not just warming the room, but allowing the smell of fresh, fragrant Seville oranges permeate your home?

This recipe comes from my mother – a twist on classic marmalade. The ginger gives it a really warming kick and couldn't be more welcome this time of year. It also includes cooking apples, although you wouldn't know from tasting the marmalade. I'll give the ingredients in imperial, rather than metric, as that's how they came to me. Just to warn you: you need to allow a long time. As this was my first time making marmalade, I was surprised just how long it took to prepare the oranges, even though you don't need many. It's well worth it, though.

Seville and ginger marmalade
Makes 10–12 jars
5 Seville oranges
5 pints water
3 lb cooking apples
6½ lb sugar (I used granulated)
8 oz crystallised ginger, roughly chopped
½ oz ground ginger

Cut the oranges in half, squeeze out the juice and reserve. Shred the peel finely, scraping out pips and pith into a muslin bag (I used a large muslin square that I tied into a makeshift bag). Put the peel, juice, water and the muslin bag into a large preserving pan and simmer for a couple of hours until the peel has softened. Remove the muslin bag, squeezing it with your hands to reserve as much juice as possible.

Peel, core and slice the apples. Simmer in 4 tablespoons of water until pulpy. Add the apples to the cooked oranges and stir in the sugar until dissolved. Add both types of ginger and stir well. Bring to the boil and allow to bubble away, skimming as necessary, until setting point is reached. Pour into warm, sterilised jars and seal immediately.

I decided to play things safe and use the sugar thermometer, taking it to 105°C. The temperature rose to just over 100°C fairly quickly and then I watched it like a hawk for it to reach setting point – which seemed to take a long time. Maybe 15 minutes or so, but I also tested it more traditionally on a chilled saucer. I'm really happy with the results and hope you will be, too.

Marrakech: a stroll in a local food souk

I've always wanted to visit Morocco. To me, it appeared to offer a full-on taste of a completely different world, yet barely further than southern Spain. In fact, southern Spain can be pretty exotic, too. Seville and Granada take your breath away with their Moorish architecture, especially the spectacular Alhambra. Morocco continued to beckon, though.

In November I finally fulfilled this desire, spending a few days in Marrakech with my mother. Based on reading several reassuring reviews we decided to stay at the Riad Al Massarah in the medina. Although helpfully located in the old centre, the riad is in the Bab Doukkala neighbourhood, which offered the chance to observe Marrakech on a local level, away from the touristy Jemaa el Fna square and main souks (about 20 minutes walk away). The new town and Majorelle Gardens were just a short taxi ride away. More about the riad will follow separately.

After breakfast on our first day, Abdelwahed, the chef at the riad, took us food shopping in the local souk. This helped us get our bearings and he gave us some useful practical tips about Marrakech (such as being discrete when taking photographs – if we hadn't been with a local and introduced to people, we wouldn't have been able to take so many pictures). Perhaps as a result of this, as the days went by, the local traders greeted us with a friendly "bonjour mesdames" whenever we passed.

It was thrilling being introduced to Marrakech in this way and it was at least as exotic as I'd expected. If mopeds hadn't kept whizzing through the narrow allies and if there hadn't been so many bicycles about, you could have been transported back several centuries. With this bounty on offer, it was easy to appreciate the significance of Marrakech's fertile location. All types of food were available, often in their freshest, most honest form. (However, if you prefer your chicken breasts skinless, boneless and shrink-wrapped, this post might not be for you.)

You always see the testicles on carcasses to prove the beast is male and the green stamp indicates the highest quality meat.

Herbs, but mainly mint.

Live chickens.

January: easy on the alcohol

Firstly, let me wish you a happy and healthy 2012. Talking of health, we are taking it easy on the wine front this month. We are not entirely on the wagon, but avoiding it as much as we can to give our systems a bit of a break. If we have a drop of wine at the weekend, so be it, but weekdays are remaining dry, although I've been out and about tasting some glorious wines (and spitting, of course). Come February we'd like to maintain a level of restraint during the week, but we'll see how things unfold. I've only got the one liver and I'm prepared to give it a bit more respect.

Helping me along with this is my new favourite (alcohol-free) tipple. I have a bottle of orange bitters originally bought for marmalade cocktails. I was working on the Hawksmoor At Home cookery book and couldn't wait to try this 'eye opener' (and it was a good excuse to test the recipe). I don't want to admit how many we've enjoyed over the past year. It just so happens, though, that orange bitters make a great addition to tonic water. I do love a g & t and have always found tonic water with ice and lemon makes a decent grown-up tasting alcohol-free drink, but loose the lemon and shake in some orange bitters and you have something that tastes altogether more special. It suits this time of year perfectly: uplifting, refreshing, with a slightly exotic complexity. It's become a regular treat and I really look forward to sipping it while preparing dinner. What's more, it looks completely ambiguous.

At the end of the evening I turn to a particular favourite that I first discovered more than 20 years ago during my year in France as an English language assistant. The French may not be good with British style (black) tea with milk, but their tisanes are quite special. This blend of liquorice and mint is ideal late in the evening (as the name suggests). We often don't bother with desert or pudding and the comforting sweet flavours of this tea round off a meal perfectly. A bit healthier (and cheaper) than sipping some malt whisky – my other favourite post-prandial. Here's to your good health!

A luxurious taste of Christmas

I can hardly believe how quickly the year has flown by – Christmas is upon us yet again. I'm doing some final preparations before this year's gastronomic extravaganza kicks off at the weekend and I've been reminded of some highlights from last year.

My brother celebrated his 40th early in 2010 and a couple of years earlier at The Sampler in Islington I laid my hands on some claret from his birth year. He generously decided to share it with us all at Christmas, bless him. I thought it would be fun to partner it with another claret – a comparatively youthful 1990 (although maturing nicely). A traditional, if rather cerebral choice for the turkey, but absolutely delicious – both freshly structured and beguilingly complex – and an interesting contrast to the fuller, spicier wines we often have at Christmas. Southern Rhône being a particular favourite (which we'll be having this year). The clarets topped the bill after an apéritif of ever-elegant Pol Roger, and a gently aromatic, dry Gewürztraminer from Blanck was perfect with our starter of smoked fish. We concluded with some PX – practically Christmas pudding in a bottle. Heady stuff.

Something that featured in last year's dinner was this magnificent and totally decadent stuffing. It's a recipe by Heston Blumenthal from Waitrose Kitchen magazine that includes chestnuts, cranberries, caraway seeds and brandy, sliced and fried in black butter before serving. This year I'll be preparing it in advance to take to my parents' whose turn it is to host and it'll be enjoyed alongside my (late) great-aunt's lemon and herb stuffing. Even if you're having goose, poulet fermier, a turkey crown or smaller game birds for your festive feast, this will make a memorable 'trimming'. A truly luxurious taste of Christmas.

Cranberry and caraway stuffing
Serves 6
280g unsalted butter
7 slices white bread, crusts removed
50g dried breadcrumbs
1 onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, diced
1 tbsp groundnut oil
200g sausagemeat
60g cooked chestnuts, chopped
60g dried cranberries
8 sage leaves, finely chopped
15g parsley, finely chopped
1 tbsp caraway seeds
140ml brandy
100ml chicken stock
1 egg, beaten

Preheat the oven to 180°C, Gas Mark 4. Melt 250g butter in a saucepan and heat gently until it goes brown and smells nutty, then strain through a fine sieve. Set aside 175g of the strained butter.

Dice the bread slices and combine with the breadcrumbs in a large bowl.

In a small frying pan, melt 15g butter; add the onion and cook on a low heat until soft. Add the celery and remaining 15g butter and cook for 10 minutes, then add the bread mixture.

In a separate pan over a high heat cook the sausage meat in the groundnut oil until browned, breaking it into evenly sized pieces as you go. Add this to the stuffing with the chestnuts, cranberries, sage, parsley and caraway seeds, then return the pan to the heat. Pour in the brandy and boil vigorously for 1 minute so the alcohol evaporates. Scrape up any bits from the bottom of the pan.

Combine 125g of the brown butter with the chicken stock and mix with the stuffing. Season with salt.

Stir through the beaten egg (the mixture should be very moist) and spread on to a parchment-lined baking tray so that it is 1.5cm deep.

Cook in the oven for about 20 minutes, then remove and set aside until ready to serve (this can be made the day before).

Slice the stuffing into rectangles, about 5cm x 7cm. Fry in batches, using 1tbsp of the remaining brown butter for each batch, until golden all over.