Tiramisu

Inspired by our recent visit to Northern Italy, we decided to go Italian for a dinner with friends last weekend. It wasn't a dinner party for two reasons. Firstly, there were five of us and we only have two dinning chairs at the moment. Secondly, desert came out in a rather inelegant glass baking dish. Despite the awkward serving, it tasted great.

I take my recipe from a wonderful book by Anna del Conte: The Concise Gastronomy of Italy. As usual, I don't quite follow her recipe because she recommends including small chunks of chocolate inside the tiramisu which are a little hard and lumpy for me. Also, her quantities of brandy and coffee aren't quite right: the last time I tried it I had to make up her coffee-mix three times for all the ladyfingers, which meant that I managed to get a rather greedy friend slightly drunk.

300 ml strong coffee I use plunger or run down to the local cafe for espresso

7 teaspoons brandy

80 grams dark chocolate (75%)

3 teaspoons cocoa powder

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

3 large eggs yolks (or 4 small ones)

4 tablespoons caster sugar

250 grams mascarpone

2 large egg whites (or 3 small ones)

1 packet of Savoiardi or Lady-finger biscuits (bizarrely there were 19 in my pack)

Mix the coffee and brandy. Grate the chocolate.

Beat the egg yolks with the sugar into pale and soft peaks. Mix the mascarpone in a little at a time, then beat until smooth. Whisk the egg whites to stiff and carefully fold into the egg mixture.

Dip the biscuits into the coffee mixture and turn them over once only (otherwise they become too soggy). Lay the about 7 biscuits on the bottom of an oval dish. Spread over about 1/3 of the mascarpone egg mixture. Cover this layer in 1/3 of of grated chocolate. Layer with another 6 or 7 biscuits and another 1/3 of the mascarpone egg mixture and another 1/3 of the grated chocolate. Layer with the remaining biscuits and top with the remaining mascarpone egg cream. Cover with cling film and refrigerate for at least five hours.

Before serving, cover with the remaining grated chocolate. Mix the cinnamon and cocoa together and sift lightly over the top of the chocolate.

Peckhams stocks Savoiardi biscuts if you can't find them at the market.

Burger 'n' Shake

When we go out for dinner during the week in Edinburgh, we usually head straight for a comfort food restaurant. For P, that means we go to Khushi's; for me, we head to Wannaburger. Last night, we tried out the new Wannaburger on Queensferry Street in the West End. (The first Wannaburger joint is on the Royal Mile.)

Wannaburger serves awesome shakes, just like the kind my Dad used to buy me when I was a kid. (I only wish that Wannaburger gave you the leftovers in the aluminium mixer cup along with your glass, the way they did at the Adelaide University Cellar.) An American friend told us that she comes all the way from St Andrews just for the peanut butter and banana shake. Yesterday, we went traditional with vanilla, which was really rich and frothy. (You can tastein the milk how rich the grass is at the moment.)

The burgers are as close to a summer barbecue as is possible for flat-dwelling people such as us. Usually, I go for "the classic" beef burger, which is always nice and pink in the middle. P had it this time and was not disappointed. I opted for the Bacon Guacamole burger as a salad. (All burgers are available without the bun and with extra greenery for the same price.) It was delicious, although the outside was a little "blacker" than usual. (OK, it was a little too dark, but the inside was still beautifully pink and who doesn't like a little charcoal now and then.) Calling for the bill, we finished up with the usual shot glass (or two) of peanut M&Ms. Perfect.

Wannaburger is running a competition at the moment. They're asking customers to invent new recipe combinations for their burger menu. Almost all burgers are based on their three "classic" burgers: a beef patty, a chicken breast and a bean patty, each served with salad, mayo and relish. Other ingredients - like guacamole and bacon - can be added according to choice; and this is where Wannacreate comes in. We suggested two new additions: a Surf'n'Turf (with a couple of king prawns) and a Boston Bean (with some good ole New England beans and a little Colby-style cheese). We're hoping they might make the menu, but that doesn't mean that next time we wouldn't order the "the classic" anyway.

Elephants and Bagels

Well obviously! Where else would one go on a grey Sunday afternoon, accidentally caught on Nicholson Street and not feeling hungry enough for the mosque. The Elephant House is the Edinburgh institution, but it's smaller cousin set right next to Edinburgh University is a better bet during the tourist season.

There are all kinds of bagels to chose from - Plain, Poppy Seed, Garlic, Onion, Sesame, Rye, Olive & Sun Dried Tomato, Cheese & Jalapeno, Spinach - and a whole range of toppings. Today I went for the melted mozzarella, salami, pesto and sun-dried tomato on a sesame bagel. Bizarrely, all of the 'melted' cheese bagels are made by filling little paper cups (like the ones they give you you to rinse with at the dentist) with the grated cheese of your choice, zapping this in the microwave, and then spreading the resultant goo over your toasted bagel. To be fair, if you didn't see it done, you wouldn't be able to tell. The bagels taste great. The sun-dried tomato paste spread on mine was particularly good. I think though that I'd come back for a flavoured bagel slathered with cream cheese. (Can't beat a classic.)

Elephants and Bagels is at 37 Marshall Street, Nicholson square.

Cinnamon Soup

In view of my recent declaration to include more cinnamon in savoury dishes, I knocked up this lentil soup yesterday. I'd tried a spicy lentil soup in Crete and the Edinburgh weather seemed suitably miserable for such wintery fare. Traditional recipes call for brown lentils, which I would have preferred as they keep their shape better, but I used red lentils as that's all that Somerfield ever has in stock. The following made up six large bowls of soup (and feed us for two lunches and one dinner, which is more than enough legumes for any person.)

4 cloves of garlic - smashed and chopped finely
4 small red onions - diced
2 large carrots - cubed
250 g red lentils
5 cups water
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
2 bayleaves
1 cup passata (pureed tomato)
black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinamon

Sweat the onions and garlic in some olive oil in the bottom of a pan. Add the carrots and cook for another minute or two. Pour in the lentils, water, pepper and dried herbs. Bring to the boil and simmer for 30 minutes or until the red lentils have disolved somewhat. Add the passata, salt and cinnamon and simmer for a further 20 minutes.

Remove the soup from the heat and stir in

1 tablespoon of olive oil
1 tablespoon of red wine vinegar


I like this soup for three reasons. 1) I kept to my resolution of abandoning the stock cube and it was still thick and tasty. 2) Cinnamon is good. 3) It only used dried herbs. While fresh herbs would probably have been more exciting, there are some days when you really don't want to trek to the market. (And, there is sometimes the problem of what happens to your window box of herbs when you're on holiday in Crete.)

Slower Food

Fraudulent May is usually thus accused because May weather pretends to be summer but is in fact winter wearing a yellow shirt. My May weather was much better, as I spent the month in sunny Crete. However, this has meant that May has fallen off the calender as far as this site is concerned.

This does not mean that I haven't been thinking about food. Far from it. I've been eating so much olive oil infused fare that I've probably gained several pounds. The food in Crete was amazing. While, I've long recognised the importance of the Slow Food movement in terms of sustaining small producers, I'm glad to discover that there are places where these kinds of organisations are unnecessary. In Crete, taverna owners also own fields where their vegetables are grown, their lamb is raised and rabbits are hunted.

The fish restaurant we frequented was run by a family whose son was a fisherman. The menu varied each day depending on his catch. Instead of the names of fish being presented on a blackboard, customers were invited into the kitchen to look at a the tray of today's offerings (kept in the fridge) and asked to choose exactly which fish it was that they wanted to try. The little red mullet, dipped in flour and fried whole, were so crispy and tasty that you could eat everything (including the fins) except for the head and back-bone.

My mother's favorite taverna George's and Georgia's (where she was allowed one day to roll dolmades in the kitchen), served rich and cinnamony rabbit stew, sweet and tender pork and wonderfully oily stuffed vegetables. (My skin feels so much better after my two weeks away. I can't decide if it was the olive oil, the sea or the weather that made the difference.) On our last day, we had the treat of perfectly ripe apricots fresh from Georgia's tree.

I'm determined to include more cinnamon in savoury dishes from now on and I'm less afraid of the amount of oil that a spongy aubergine is able to absorb. (I'm sure that is what Demeter, the Greek god of agriculture, made them for.) I hope also that I'll be able to expand my range of green vegetables. The field greens (Horta) which varied from taverna to taverna looked sometimes like wild spinach and sometimes like dandelion stems. I just hope that I can find some as interesting as those served in lemon juice at the Fenari Taverna.