For St David: Glamorgan Patties with Balsamic Cannellini Sauce and Chilli Samphire

Dydd Sul hapus!

Sorry, that was probably grammatically incorrect and spelled wrong. And pronounced in a dodgy accent. And it's a day late - this whole post is in celebration of St David's Day, which was obviously yesterday. The truth is, I've never much looked into Welsh culture or cuisine, and I have absolutely no excuses for this. Admittedly, the Welsh do like their meat and seafood, but I don't often see tomatoes in their classic recipes - and I do see leeks, potatoes, flours, seaweed, cakes and cheese, all of which are things that make me immensely happy.

So I'd really be a terrible person if I didn't attempt to remake the naturally tomatoless, and equally naturally meatless, Glamorgan sausages. Plump in texture and bouncing with cheese and herby goodness, these little balls of comfort just look a bit joyous. They are also an absolute pleasure for your sense of smell: as creamy butter marries a pretty chilled out leek, freshly cut thyme - which is perhaps up there with one of my favourite smells - converts your kitchen into a very tempting place. I realise I'm personifying the Glamorgan sausage a bit: this is probably because I'd happily be friends with it. It's also great for an interesting Sunday Roast equivalent, and I'm anticipating that once the weather gets a bit warmer you could take them cold to a picnic. It really is irrelevant if St David is about or not.

A few notes about my own creation. You will notice that I've named the dish 'patties' as opposed to 'sausages'... this was the result of a pretty big - but not lifechanging - mistake. I'm going to do my best to mumble said mistake so I don't look so ridiculous. I-used-up-all-the-breadcrumbs-in-my-dough-when-I-was-supposed-to-save-at-least-75g-to-coat-the-dough-in-afterwards. Yep. This means my final dough was less mouldable, fell apart quite easily, and did not want to become a sausage shape. It also means I had no breadcrumbs to coat my patties in. In the end I used plain wholemeal flour to do this (I thought wholemeal was more 'crumby' than white...) and the result was fine, but please try and use the recipe that I was supposed to, as I reckon your result will be much better that way.

I was also mega excited to find some samphire when I went ingredient shopping, immediately deciding that this would be included in the dish. I love the distinctive saltiness of this crazy green and it went so well with the patties - you could even  argue it was relevant, as it's seasalty taste could nod to the Welsh laver, if it really tried to.

Finallly, I have to wholeheartedly apologise. You should of course use caerphilly or a Welsh cheddar for this, of which I could find absolutely none. I used a strong Westcountry cheddar which worked beautifully but obviously didn't have true authenticity. It was still delicious though.

Enough talking - you should really make this dish as soon as possible!

Glamorgan Patties with Balsamic Cannellini Sauce and Chilli Samphire

1) Melt the butter in a pan and add the leek. In general you should use one whole leek, but mine was pretty massive, so I used about two thirds. Heat on low for about 8 minutes until the leeks are nice and soft and there is a comforting smell dancing around the kitchen.

2) In a large bowl, mix 100g of the breadcrumbs, the thyme, parsley, and cheese, then add the leeks when done. In a seperate bowl or cup, whisk up the yolks with the mustard and a good pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper. Fold this carefully into the leeks and mix really well, until you have a pretty stiff dough, that looks and smells like a glorious stuffing.

3) Spread out the remaining breadcrumbs on a plate. Take pieces of the dough and shape into little patties - I made 10 in all but if you want to make bigger shapes, feel free. Dip each patty in the eggwhite and then coat in the crumbs, and move directly onto a lined baking sheet. Once you've done them all, place in the fridge for a minimum of half an hour - I was lucky enough to have about three hours for mine.

4) Preheat the oven to 170C. The patties will need about 12 mins, and turning half way through, so place them in the oven according to when you make the remaining elements. Make the sauce: heat some oil in a pan and add the onion - leave to soften for about 5 mins.You don't want them to brown. Add the beans, give it a stir and add the vinegars and soy sauce. Heat on high for about a minute and then simmer for about 5-6.

5) Prepare the vegetables. Heat a little olive oil or butter in a pan and add the samphire, green beans, garlic and chilli. Stir fry for 3-4 mins.

6) Serve, serve, serve! Put all your elements together, ensuring you have some pickled beetroot on the side and a healthy dollop of mayonnaise.

I had four patties leftover - I'm going to serve them with hummous, halloumi and salad for a light dinner tomorrow.

Guys, the next time a Go Compare advert comes on, close your eyes and take a breath - channel everything into conjuring up your own vision for Glamorgan patties. Because they're friendly, comforting and excitable little creations... and they want you to eat them. Mwynhau!

Served: We took three patties each for two people, with four left over. Depending on your preferred portion size, you could stretch this dish to suit 2-4 eaters.
Took: About 20 mins to prep the dough - then there's the chilling time - then 15-20 mins to complete the final part.
Things that went wrong: Yes, I know I threw every single breadcrumb into the dough mixture and so couldn't make sausage shapes, I know! And I also couldn't find Welsh cheese. This didn't defect too much from the final product, and apart from my silly mistake this was a pretty easy thing to make.

There will always be Brick Lane: Valentine's at City Spice

One of the biggest tests I put to restaurants is to provide me with a completely tomatoless dish, that, maybe after a moment of bewilderment, is put together with enthusiasm and perhaps a little creativity. That's if there's not something suitable and wonderful on the menu already. I don't believe anyone should have to put up with something that's been thrown together with resentment or a second class finish rate, because my (or your) ridiculous needs are annoying. If they are in fact so annoying that simply nothing can be made for me in a style that's going to be nice to eat, I'd rather be told by the restaurant that actually, I'd better go somewhere else.

So with all this said, why - why - do I keep returning to Brick Lane? I have had more fresh tomatoes coming up next to me bhajis than I've chosen to believe. There is certainly an undeniable charm to the place (charm in the sense where there are people shouting at you from all angles to convince you to come to their restaurant), a neon horizon that welcomes you vividly to East London, and I guess you just can't beat a rice, naan, starter, main AND bottle of wine for a tenner (or £12 on  busier night).

It's not necessarily the best place for my nerves, though. I always get an intense trepidation that actually, despite my explanations, there's a big squirt of tomato puree swimming around in that earthy-coloured sauce. I worry that each dish is made in a huge vat and there's no resource, space or desire to make me something from scratch if the original recipe contains those juicy fiends. One day, my mind was put at ease slightly...

A group of friends and I got in the middle of what was very nearly a full-on fight between two Brick Lane restaurateurs, wrestling for our custom. One promised a cheaper deal, the other promised more - and better quality - wine. Being an already tipsy mix of English, Irish, Brazilian and French people, we opted for the deal with the wine and promptly chose our starters, mains, rices etc. There was no tomato served with my bhajis... I was in a place which heeded my plight and I appreciated that. Three bottles of wine later and after several debates with various people in the restaurant, the waiter offered to take us down into the kitchen! This statement, in my opinion, deserves much more exclamation marks, but grammatically I can only give it one. A Brick Lane kitchen! I'd heard rumours, the ones we've all heard that we don't want to believe. Greasy spaces, old, non-fresh ingredients, I'd even heard about one massive long kitchen that spanned underneath the whole of this East End street... and am delighted to say that none of them are true. The kitchen was relatively small, super clean, and vibrant with fresh ingredients and spices. The waiter challenged me to taste all the spices and guess them (I got them all right, FYI) and I got a little taste of a freshly made gulapjamon. I even stepped into the fridge. This, tomatophobes and tomatophiles, was a place which could very easily - and happily it seemed - adapt well-known recipes in a fresh way and serve them up to needy customer like myself. People - Brick Lane is the dealtastic, fountain of Indian food that we all dared to hope it might be!

This why me and the VT-BF chose to go back on Valentine's Day. The beginning of 2014 had not been kind financially and we were ready to treat ourselves to some cheap but nice food. Coming from the Shoreditch end, we settled for the very first deal that came to us, which was from City Spice, as the VT-BF was too hungry for banter. We've been to this one a few times and really enjoy it - the set menu isn't limited to your usual dhansaks, masalas etc, and the owner is great - I think he's been there over 20 years.

Unfortunately - and I use that word with all passion and seriousness - the food wasn't quite up there this time.It was the one occasion we chose to omit the onion bhajis so I'm happy to accept some of the blame. The fried potato cakes came up with a nice chunk of fresh tomato and tasted a bit school dinner. The aubergine dahl that I got was pretty nice, as was the beautifully fragranced pilau rice, and there weren't too many complaints to go with the VT-BF's Butter Chicken, but the wine wasn't up to scratch (I know you can't really expect it to be - but 'actual nice quality wine' was one of the conditions of that night's offer!).

But do you know what, it was Valentine's Day, we've had nice wine there before... I'm not usually so lenient but I'm happy to suggest this one time was a slight glitch. You should still go to City Spice, and all the other restaurants in Brick Lane, because... you just should. And that's a valid reason, it really is.

Would I recommend this restaurant? Yes, I got a tomato with my second rate potato, but this is one time I don't care quite so much. Yes, go - go now!

World Food Night

I am so excited to be taking part in - wait for the hashtags - #WorldFoodNight. It's ran by Refugee Action and the beautiful part is that ANYONE can take part from ANYWHERE, on Saturday 1st March. I, for example, will be taking part from my humble kitchen and questionably sized dining table.

The idea is, you hold a dinner, ideally using a recipe from the World Food Night website or recipe pack, and the people who come round and eat your offerings pay, however much or little as they want. All these service charges then get donated to Refugee Action, who help to prevent starvation for refugees in countries all over the world.

The tricky part is obviously choosing what to cook. I was prepared to have to de-tomato and vegetarianise a lot of the recipes but a lot of them actually come fully prepped to my fussy needs. At the moment, I'm torn between the Sichuan Hotpot from China or a more traditional Cheese and Onion Pie from good old Blighty... both completely different, but equal amounts of temptation. Even though I've just consumed a pretty large piece of cake, I'm now hungry again just writing this... oops!

Can I just point out how completely overjoyed I was to receive my fundraising pack? I was in a bad mood and it really cheered me up. My name was handwritten onto it (correctly spelled too!), and as well as all the bits you need for your dinner - recipe cards, place settings, STICKERS etc - it also had two teabags from Lancashire Tea and a trial membership card for Gourmet Society! I honestly felt sliiightly birthdayish (hey - it's my fake birthday. I'm allowed to make up words). This is not, it seems, a charity event in which the organisers expect you to do all the hard work. The team are clearly as enthused and dedicated as they need us 'chefs' to be. Sign up here.

I will let you know after March 1st, what I chose, how I cooked it, and how it turned out!

Happy Cake, AKA Spiced Beetroot and Orange Cake

So, I had some beetroot acquired from making a salad, and almost a whole box of eggs, because I'd needed just one as an ingredient for something. These two things, waiting for me to use them, culminated in one thing in my head:

I want to make a beetroot cake.

I always think about cakes when there are eggs in the house, primarily because I don't like eggs and use them only in things where they can't be tasted. It could also be because I'm obsessed with cake, and make up valid excuses to think about them.

I'd never made a beetroot cake before, but the season is perfect for them (although nearly over now) and the crimsonny colourings are awesome for a little valentine's treat. I'm drawn to the effect beetroot has on the colour of foods, just like a little child is drawn to shiny wrapping paper (or me. I am still drawn to shiny wrapping paper).

So in search of inspiration, I began researching the internet for recipe ideas... and got pretty put off. The web was full of elaborate affairs, with 20 ingredients, whites and yolks, 1 hour and 30 minutes of my time. I wanted my cake to reflect the beetroot itself: beautiful (especially on the inside), but simple, quick to use, and understated.

I have been using my personal carrot cake recipe for years and even now (having just eaten a slice of cake) the thought makes my eyes turn into little carrot shapes - if you're lucky, I'll make it for you one day. And I thought, 'is a beetroot so unlike a carrot?'. I decided they were not, and that's when my 'beetroot that once was a carrot cake' recipe was born.

Spiced Beetroot and Orange Cake

NB: I unfortunately only had 100g beetroot to hand so I made half the above recipe - however the above (if my carrot cake is anything to go by) is the most foolproof, unburnable and of course, gives you more cake.

1) Preheat oven to 170C. Whisk the sugar, oil and eggs together until they look like caramel (they won't taste like caramel though, so don't try it!). Mix in the beetroot and orange zest, and then finally the dry ingredients. Enjoy stirring the vivid colours, then pour into a lined cake tin (or silicone case, which I used) and place in the oven. This should take about 30 mins, or until the cake is springy and firm and a knife comes out of the cake clean.

Are... are those ingredients smiling?

I'd like to think it looks a bit like Mars

2) Make the syrup while the cake's cooking. Whisk the sugar and orange juice, and a little lemon juice too if you like. Taste to see if it's sweet enough, or to your personal taste. Add more sugar if needed.

A pretty aesthetic mess

3) When the cake is baked, remove it from the oven and prod it all over with a cocktail stick. Spoon the syrup all over the little holes and all around the cake. Leave to cool.

4) Make the icing: mix all the ingredients together until well combined. Taste to see if any extra sugar should be added. Spread all over the cake with a spatula. If you have made a big enough cake, you can split it in two and double the icing ingredients, to create a sandwich layer too.

This is such a delightful little treat to have with a cup of tea each day. It's citrussy enough to remind you that Spring and Summer are coming soon, but it's also spicy, warming and earthy enough to get you all cosy from the crazy weather that's going on at the moment. Making it produced endorphins because it was so uplifting to work with all the colours. Plus - if you want to eat cake on a frequent basis, this really is a healthier option: wholemeal flour, low fat cheese, fruit and all the nutrients that come with beetroot... there's not really an excuse NOT to eat it.

If I was feeling extra Valentiney, I would have put the mixture into little heart-shaped cupcake cases, and added a little red food colouring to the icing.

When people ask if I'm afraid of red food as a whole... they really just need to review my relationship with this cake.

Super Gnocchi: Inspiration from Borough Market Demonstration Kitchen

The Demonstration Kitchen at Borough Market is such a good idea. It's not an in depth class that you have to study vigorously or dive head first into - it's like a little show that you can dip in and out of while you eat your lunch, really a social event, so all elements of daunt are completely absent. When I discovered that Celia Brooks, author of 5:2 Vegetarian, was taking the stand, I really wanted to get down there. I've been considering 5:2 for a while* (it's very much NOT recommended for diabetics though, I should say) but, ahem, failed on my first day. I'd like to blame the primary reason for this on the lack of vegetarian recipes out there for this popular diet: I bought the official 5:2 book from Amazon and was really disappointed with the huge focus on meat (and lack of pictures!), so I was both intrigued and excited to see what Celia came up with.

*personal hypocrisy alarm. When I first heard about the 5:2, my reaction was "there is NO WAY 500 calories a day a healthy - no one should do this!". I guess my own vanity beat my morals this time...

Anyway, the thing that I really liked about Celia's menu for the kitchen was that it looked like it could be completely tomatoless, and even mushroomless (although it seems as the Caramelised Artichokes were swapped to Garlic Mushrooms on the day - bummer for me but great for all the mushroomphiles as it's a really good recipe). Delighted with my free recipe sheet (they're always available if you go to the Demo Kitchen), I chose to opt not for the Cauliflower Couscous or Saffron Celariac and Puy Lentil Bowl - they both sound delicious but I decided to accommodate my veggie-hesitant BF's needs. The Spinach and Ricotta Gnocchi with Sage Butter won in all sorts of ways.

As I have a bit of a problem with sticking to recipes and always feel the need to force my own ideas upon the poor things, this is my own take on the gnocchi, for reasons of availability, preference and spontaneity - but was fully inspired by Celia's wonderful recipe. Certain substitutions included:

- a mix of rocket and kale instead of spinach
- chives instead of parseley
- mascarpone instead of ricotta
- mature cheddar instead of parmesan (that was purely an "I've already got cheddar in the fridge" thing, parmesan would have probably been more delicious)

and a few other bits. Which means, here is the process for

Baked Kale and Rocket Gnocchi with Sage and Baby Leek Butter

I saw the baby leeks in the supermarket and got a bit broody, so I wanted to incorporate them into the dish.

1) Preheat oven to 150C. Wilt the kale and then squeeze out all of the moisture. Make sure you cut out the chunky stalks and then chop as finely as possible. Mix thoroughly with all the gnocchi ingredients, so that quite a stiff dough is formed.

I didn't realise - if you chop chives reaaally finely, they make you cry

2) Boil a large pan of salted water. Shape the gnocchi mix into little balls (work out your size preference - I found smaller balls gave the impression of going further, although bigger ones were impressive to look at) and drop into the pan in batches (don't overcrowd). As soon as they float, lift them out with a slotted spoon and place onto a baking tray.

I've found the savoury version of wanting to lick the cake bowl

3) Make the sauce - put the butter, leeks and sage in a pan and cook gently until the butter is completely melted and the leeks softened. Pour this over the gnocchi in the baking tray and top with a good grating of Gruyère, or any other hard cheese you have to hand.

4) Bake for 10 mins, or until the sage is nicely crisped and the gnocchi are screaming at you to eat them, because they look so damn good.

Mmmmmm. This was so yummy, and even pretty healthy: the fat content could be lower (although I did use low fat mascarpone), but because of the absence of potatoes and small use of flour, this was a deceptively uncarby dish. And I got the VT-BF to eat kale!

Served: two portions, although I honestly thought we'd get four.
Took: About 45 mins. The concept itself doesn't take long at all, it's just cooking in batches that holds you up.
Things that went wrong: THERE WAS NOT ENOUGH. I wanted to eat this again the next night. The cooking itself was delightfully easy and therapeutic.

Celia Brooks' awesome blog about 5:2 vegetarianism is here, and you can catch your next Demonstration Kitchen at Borough Market here. Both thoroughly recommended!

Embracing Scottish roots with Italian cooking

Another country that people can never comprehend me eating in is Italy, and with good reason too; this beautiful country is renowned for being passionate about glorious meat dishes and sumptuous use of my red-skinned arch enemy. I've been there once (to Venice) and can honestly say, would-be-foodie that I am, eating was one of my favourite parts. Granted, I have a ferocious sweet tooth and did invest a lot of my time in finding the best tirimisu; but the savoury offering was just as awe-inspiring. I had a lovely Italian friend and colleague who taught me one phrase which I have since tattooed on my brain:

"Sono allergica ai pomodori"

'I am allergic to tomatoes' (kinda, whatever). This, although a definite cause of many confused looks, proved invaluable. Perhaps it should be my new year's resolution to learn the phrase in 10 different languages (would certainly be more useful than the other foreign phrases I know for some reason - 'I have an apple' in Spanish and 'Can I take off my jumper?' in French).

Man in the Moment in Venice, 2007. He was perhaps someone I'd informed of my confusing 'allergy'

Use of this phrase has become a bit of a theme in my life, and comes into play whenever I go out to restaurants. One such restaurant was 21 in Covent Garden, which was the choice for our office Christmas party in the December just gone. This also returned me to the theme of  - erm, very Christmassy - Italian food. As with many office parties, we were given in advance a menu from which we had to choose one of four dishes from each of the three courses. I personally cannot stand this format, as it nearly always only presents one veggie option, and indeed my only 'choices' were the Mushroom Risotto for starter, Aubergine Parmigiana for main and (woe betide!) Tirimisu for dessert (there were actually other desserts I could have picked, but I think I've established my obsession with tirimisu now). To not appear too fussy, I resolved to just take the risotto and pick the mushrooms out quietly (it really was delicious apart from the mushrooms!), but I had to make clear my 'allergy' for tomatoes. 21 did not get the memo until the day itself, but they gave what was a sincerely super-duper service and made the quick decision to make the parmigiana with a parmesan sauce instead of a juicy, red tomato one. It was gorgeous (and that was after a whole bottle of wine to myself - think of how much better it would have tasted with my senses fully engaged!), and I've resolved to make my own version ever since. Excellent job, 21!

Queue last week's Burn's Night, because, um, I thought aubergine had the nearest visual equivalence to a haggis that I could eat.

Aubergine Parmesan Parmigiana 

Aww, little haggis-like aubergines

1) Preheat oven to 170C. Chop the aubergine into slices that are about 2cm thick. I've read in various other recipes that you should either griddle or barbecue the aubergines before use - having neither of these things to hand I gave them a quick fry in garlic oil, to remove any excess moisture.

2) Make the sauce: heat the flour and butter over a low heat and mix continuously until there is almost a cakemix looking batter that comes away from the sides. Take off the heat. Add a little of the milk, mix in thoroughly, and gradually add the rest until all used. Put back on the heat and gradually add all the cheese. Stir continuously until the cheese has melted and the sauce thickened. Do not allow to boil!

3) Put a small layer of the sauce in the bottom of an earthenware dish (either one large one or some little ones if you want to serve individually - this is a nice touch). Having recently broken my best earthenware dish (yep) I used the bottom half of my lovely tagine - this worked well but it's best to use something with a flat bottom. Place in a layer of aubergine slices, then cover with more sauce, then continue to layer in this fashion. You should finish with a layer of aubergine and a drizzle of sauce - don't cover the top aubergines.

4) Dust with smoked paprika, dried rosemary, salt and pepper, and a nice grating of parmesan. Bake for about 30mins or until the aubergine is browned well and the sauce bubbling. Once you've taken out the oven, top with a wee bit extra parmesan and a good chop of chives.

5) Serve! I plated with rocket, a drizzle of balsamic and some nice crusty bread. I had every intention of making my own bread (onion and herb bread, at that) using a bread maker I'd recently been given... on opening said bread maker, no blade was present. I have a bladeless bread maker. Nuff said.

This was a super easy dish that I think could work well on a weekend or work night, because there's really not that much fuss involved. It also makes a fab starter in smaller portions, or something on the side for you meat-eaters. I had a small portion leftover which I served with brown rice and a dollop of yoghurt the next day.

Italians are passionate about their food, and there's no reason why the fussiest of us shouldn't be too - even at Christmas and Burn's Night...!

Served: two really big portions, four starters, or three medium portions. Take your pick.

Took: About 45mins including all prep (this included search time for a suitable earthenware dish). My oven does work quickly, it should be noted.

Things that went wrong: Honestly, apart from the fact I realised I was in possession of a big, unfunctioning bread maker, nothing went wrong. I could have done with a bit more salt, but I'm sure my health thanks me for that.