“As the Italian say, cook with love and passion. Which I translate as: enjoy it, give it time and patience, and be tender. “ Niamh Shields
I totally agree. Sometimes, cooking feels like meditation, all the stars aligned. I remember the first time I felt like this. Or perhaps the first time I consciously noticed feeling like this. It was over a big pot of ragu for lasagne. Everything felt just right: calm, complete, whole, balanced. I was happy and connected. And the dish turned out just delicious.
It’s similar with flavours, but the feeling is stronger and shorter. Like a dart of pleasure, a stronger connection, but one that lasts a shorter time. Some combinations just hit the right note. Like a culinary, gustatory G-spot. They’re simply perfect. Such as the flavours in Claudia Roden’s chicken tagine with lemon and olives, which were a springboard for this dish. I thought how well its flavours of lemon, saffron and herbs would go with fish. And then I made it and they did go together so well.
Posted by Maninas on 30 August, 2014
I’ve always loved burek. It was my favourite lunch treat at school. I used to have cheese burek with plain, and my best friend with strawberry yoghurt. We’d sit in the parks near our school and look at the sea. Surprised that a kid from Croatia lunches on what is by all accounts a Middle Eastern treat? Don’t be. Burek is firmly part of the eating tradition in the countries of the former Yugoslavia, a legacy of the Ottoman Empire.
If you are yet to be introduced to this deliciousness, burek is layers of thin thin pastry, filo-like but somewhat thicker, stuffed with a variety of fillings. Cheese, meat, spinach, potatoes – these are just some of the examples. In our parts, there is even a sweet version stuffed with grated apples, probably a playful offspring of the Ottoman burek and the Central European apple strudel. To a Croatian, a burek is any of the afore-mentioned; to a Bosnian, burek is only the one made with meat, all others are simply pies (pite, or pita singular). Here bureks normally come in coils, or layered in trays (tepsije – probably from the Turkish tepsi). In Turkey, burek or börek comes in all shapes (cigars, triangles, coils, envelopes, layered larger pies, etc.), and is both baked and boiled. It is made with the thin yufka dough, or even with puff pastry.
Posted by Maninas on 11 April, 2014
Hot, sweet, garlicky and bright with parsley and lemon – the good old parsnip is far more interesting in this company. A real revelation, in fact. The whole winter I’ve been roasting it with honey, red onions and panch phoron. I add the chillies and garlic when the parsnips and onions are nearly done (so that they don’t burn). Sometimes I roast the chillies and garlic only briefly, and sometimes a little longer, depending on how strong I want these flavours to be. I finish off with a sprinkling of parsley, and a squeeze of lemon. Life is always brighter with lemon.
Posted by Maninas on 16 March, 2014
Fragrant and clear broth flavoured with sherry and mint and smoky chorizo bathes the chickpeas and cannellini beans. There’s a gentle kick from the chilli, and a freshness from the mint, caramel notes of the sherry. Glorious with buttered sourdough toast, and perhaps a side of kale, this is a perfect winter dish, fragrant and warming. I’ve been making it regularly for over a year now, and now it’s time to share it here.
Posted by Maninas on 11 January, 2014
In an Istanbul traffic jam, half a fig passes hands. Plump and purple, glistening in the afternoon sun. A smile radiates a man’s face. His pleasure warms my heart.
The fig was a gift from a generous vendor at a wonderful weekly market in Sapanca in Turkey where we’d just finished a week’s workshop on food and photography. The man was a fellow participant at the workshop. I’ve taken a lot from the trip, and not just in the kilos of pepper flakes and helva in my suitcase! More about the helva as well as about what I’ve learnt will come in another post. For I am back to blogging.
Posted by Maninas on 15 October, 2013