Sally Butcher, the shop-keeper, proud Peckhamite and author of the award-winning ‘Persia in Peckham‘ has gone and written another fantastic cookery book, this time entirely vegetarian. There’s quite a trend for veggie recipe books at the moment (which seemed to surge when people started swooning over Ottolenghi) but I  beg of you to consider chucking your money at something a little less mainstream. Go off the beaten track and take the first side road to Veggiestan.

Veggiestan is of course a fictional place, invented by Sally to reflect the position of vegetables in the Middle Eastern diet. Meat usually takes a back seat and is either optional or reserved entirely for special occasions. We could do with adopting this attitude a little more in the West, I say. I mean, some people still don’t think they’re having a meal unless it’s got meat in it. Now, this may come as a shock to my readers, but I don’t eat meat for breakfast, lunch and dinner; in reality it’s about once a week (or maybe twice, not including Meat Liquor visits or bacon sandwiches) that I cook those big hunks of pork, beef and lamb and increasingly I find myself eating more fish and vegetables. There is something rather vulgar, I think, about eating  meat every day, not to mention the fact that is isn’t particularly sustainable or indeed terribly good for you.

Veggiestan is a visual carnival of a book; the cover bold and tactile, zig-zagged with fabric like fuzzy felts (remember them?) Bright patterns and photos are abundant throughout; presumably the budget shot up on the back of the first book’s success. The structure runs thus: bread and pastries; herbs and salads; dairy and eggs; soups, legumes and pulses; rice and grains; vegetables; recipes with fruit; sauces, pickles and preserves and of course, sweet things to finish.

I like to make at least 3 recipes from a book before I write about it. In fact, I started before it was even published as Sally asked me to test a recipe (yes she’s a friend - disclosure); this was how I found myself cooled by a silky, chilled yoghurt soup (above), a lifeline on a sticky summer evening. Hard to imagine eating it right now, I realise, but there’s a hot yoghurt soup recipe in the book too, for all your yoghurt soup needs. Yoghurt is one of the things Iranians are really into you see, as am I.

We see eye to eye on other ingredients too, herbs for example. Lots and lots of herbs. A plate of mixed fresh herbs (sabzi) are eaten like salad leaves at the beginning of a meal to stimulate the appetite; different herbs are believed to have various health-boosting properties. The Iranians also get right on down with mixing sweet and salty flavours, like the dates and feta in this salad (Salata Jamr wa Jubnat Feta) – one of my favourite recipes from the book. The textures are glorious too; squidgy dates against crisp fried chips of khobez flat bread.

I also loved this pomegranate salsa; sweet, ruby pops of pomegranate stud a ballsy salsa. I actually ate this with grilled meat but we’ll gloss swiftly over that.

Finally, more of a winter warmer: an Afghan carrot hotpot (Qorma-e-Zardak), which made me remember just how darn good carrots are when made the centre of a dish rather than an afterthought on the side ‘for a bit of colour’. The spicing is very well judged too, so the flavours remain distinct. I often think of lentils as something I eat when I’m skint but this felt like a treat on a cold Monday evening, especially with the hum of a scotch bonnet singing through (hello, Peckham influence) and a good hunk of fluffy bread for a bit of dippage.

One of the most impressive things about the book is the sheer amount of work that has gone into it; you’re drawn into the story of each dish as Sally delves into the etymology of recipe names and the anthropological background. She tries to tell me this is ‘purely the result of procrastination’ but whatever the motivation, the book is all the more richer for it.

There are still so many recipes I want to cook: fig jam with nibbed pistachios; Yemeni ‘fire relish’; Iranian aubergine pickle; baked stuffed quinces; pumpkin kibbeh. I think I’d better stop there. Some ingredients may be unfamiliar, but Sally makes them entirely accessible; her warmth, wit and complete down to Earth-ness are the key. This is exactly what Sally is like in real life by the way, but you don’t need to take my word for it – get yourself down to her shop. She’s the lady with the cheery “hello!” and the big red hair. Oh and ask her to sign the book while you’re there, it could be worth a few bob one day.

Afghan Carrot Hotpot (serves 4)

2 medium onions, chopped
oil, for frying
2-3 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
1 scotch bonnet chilli, finely chopped
1cm knob of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
Pinch ground cloves
600g baby carrots or the equivalent of grown up carrots, cut into wedges
300g yellow split peas
3 large tomatoes, chopped
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Salt, to taste
2 tablespoons sour grape juice or 2 teaspoons vinegar
About 500ml veg stock (I found I needed a little more to cover mine but then I did have very beasty carrots)

Fry the onions in a littl eoil in the bottom of a big saucepan and add in the garlic, chilli and ginger. When the onions have started to soften, add in the spices, carrots and split peas, followed a couple of minutes later by the tomato paste and fresh tomato chunks. Add some salt, then either the vinegar or sour grape juice, and then just enough stock to cover all the ingredients. Bring to the boil and set to simmer for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until the carrots and peas are cooked through.

Serve over plain white rice or with bread and most definitely with yoghurt. I added a good handful of fresh mixed herbs too.

Sally also gives a recipe for a ‘Salaata’ which sounds like a very nice accompaniment:

3 small continental cucumbers (or half a regular one)
3 tomatoes
3-4 spring onions
Half a bunch of coriander, trimmed
Handful fresh mint, trimmed
1 small regular onion
2 small, hot green chillies (optional)
Salt
Juice 1-2 lemons

Just chop all the ingredients together – bigger than a salsa but much smaller than a regular chunk. Sprinkle with salt and drizzle with lemon then cover and pop in the fridge for about half an hour to let the flavours mingle.

Sally’s book is currently worth £25 but you can buy it for the frankly outrageous price of £15.54 on Amazon. 

Sally also writes a Veggiestan blog, a Persepolis blog and does the occasional Persian pop-up at Anderson’s in Peckham. She also runs Persepolis, the shop, with her husband Jamshid. Phew!

I don’t often review books on this blog. Although I may enjoy a cook book, I rarely feel the need to jump up and tell people about it; often someone else has done it already, better. What someone else has not done already however, is write a more impressive book about British food than Andrew Webb has done with Food Britannia.

I should say right off that Andrew Webb is a friend of mine. You can therefore choose to believe that what I write here is my true opinion, or not. Let me say to you this however: I spend a great deal of time and energy writing in this space; I take a lot of pride in maintaining the integrity of it and I won’t ever tell you about something unless I feel it is of value. Caveat ends.

Food Britannia is like an encyclopaedia of British food (Encyclopaedia of Food Brittanica?) but with less of the scholarly padding and a lot more warmth and fun. I first met Andrew on the journey that sparked the idea for the book – it was called The Big British Food Map, a commission for Channel 4 which took him 11,500 miles around the country looking for the best grub going. At the end of the journey he found he couldn’t stop; he needed to fill in the gaps, find the producers undiscovered, from one-man-bands to well known brands.

This diversity in the book pleases me. I’m learning of new products to seek out and try; top of this list comes the ‘Sloe Tavy’ (above), an aged goat’s milk cheese whose rind is washed in Plymouth Sloe Gin. Cheese? Goood. Sloe gin? Goood. There are now many pink stickies peeking from the top of pages marked for my later attention – lardy cake; Somerset cider brandy; the Manchester sausage. There’s a list of suppliers in the back.

Among the new I relished the familiar: Marmite, Irn-Bru and my personal favourite, the WHAM bar. Anyone who grew up in the UK in the 1980′s remembers this tooth-extracting, space-dust studded chew bar. I got through my local newsagent’s stock with gusto and the bars in turn steadily made their way through my milk teeth.

There’s a London section too, which of course pleases me greatly. Franco Manca pizza; pie and mash with liquor; Sipsmith; The Ginger Pig and Heinz baked beans. Did you know Heinz beans grew up in Peckham? Me neither. I’m pleased to see jerk getting a mention too, not least because it’s a quote from yours truly. My favourite jerk joint at the time was Smokey Jerkey in New Cross. It’s now Caribbean Spice Jerk Centre but hey, times they change.

Food Britannia is the kind of book you dip in and out of; a coffee table book that does more than just look good. It could easily be used as a guide should you nip off on a weekend away somewhere; a handbook for the food loving adventurer. The thing that strikes me most about the book is how thoroughly well researched it is. With such a volume of entries it would be easy to skim over them but that’s just not Andrew’s style, and it shows. It’s more than a reference work, it’s a fun and engaging story of the people making quality food in this country. Considering the amount of total shit that’s put out, we should thank Andrew Webb for picking out the wood from the trees.

Food Britannia is available to buy on Amazon and at real-life book shops too.

And so the year ended with one final meaty fling in the form of a birthday meal for my boyfriend. One last colon-clogging protein punch before our bodies gave in to cravings for nothing but fish, vegetables and miso soup. I expect you could hear my arteries begging me to stop from wherever you were at the time. Or maybe I really wanted to do fish but it was the 29th of December and all the fishermen were at home toasting their toes by an open fire, spending time with their families and generally having a life rather than braving the stormy seas catching fishies for my convenience.

Anyway. The fluster of festivities left me utterly unprepared and before I knew it I found myself in front of the butcher wondering, ‘what would Simon do?’ Simon Hopkinson that is. In my hour of need I turned to my king of British cooking. The pages of his ‘Week In Week Out‘, are so indelibly etched into my memory, that as I cast my eyes over the pieces of meat in front of me, I could hear him sagely whisper, “page 148,  Helen – surely you remember?” At once a stunning vision materialised: red nuggets of beef glistening against the silvery blade of a cleaver.

I used 125g lean sirloin per person (more flavour than fillet), and spiked the fine dice with whatever choice of seasonings took my fancy; chopped capers, cornichons, shallot, parsley, anchovies, Worcestershire sauce and mustard are all strong contenders. An egg yolk is essential for me, adding silky richness. Traditionally the tartare  is heaped onto toasted rye (I didn’t have any) or alongside a pile of frites (didn’t fancy making them) but thinly sliced baguette did the job just fine.

There is a curious excitement about eating entirely raw meat; it feels a little bit naughty – risky, even. Soft nuggets of melty beef are roused to life by piquancy and heat; as much as you dare. The key is not to tip the balance too far. Restraint, as always, is key.

For the main course, fish was obviously out and there was no doubt in my mind that serving a vegetarian course to the boyfriend on his birthday would be nothing short of highly offensive. I roasted a couple of partridges and served them with Simon’s bread sauce and game crumbs; bread crumbs crisped in the partridge roasting juices. Followed by cheese with beetroot chutney and a dark chocolate fudge cake, you could say it was the perfect end to a seasonal binge, and the perfect pre-cursor to a detox. To be  honest though, I’ve never really been into all that dieting malarkey and anyway, I have a feeling it might offend Simon.

Steak Tartare

Simon advises using 125g of either fillet, lean sirloin or rump. I used sirloin in place of fillet as it has so much more flavour. Chill it well then remove any fat and dice very finely, before placing in a well chilled bowl. You can now add your choice of seasonings, or if you are serving it at a dinner party or the like, just set things out on the table and let people add their own. As I said, parsley, capers, cornichons, Worcestershire sauce, mustard, anchovies, shallots and black pepper are all worthy additions. An egg yolk on top is essential in my opinion. Clearly not a dish suitable for the pregnant or vulnerable.

Like many people who do a hefty amount of cooking, I don’t often follow recipes in books (which is not to say I don’t have a massive collection!). Instead, I prefer to use them for inspiration, to check techniques or sometimes just to look at the pretty pictures, quite frankly. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule and Ottolenghi is most definitely one of them. I adored the ‘New Vegetarian‘ series, I now adore the book and I hope that soon I shall adore the restaurant/deli too.

There is a bold simplicity to these recipes, which are based around a set of ‘star ingredients’, (listed in the front of the book) – essential flavours in the Ottolenghi repertoire, for example, yoghurt, tahini, sumac and pomegranate molasses. These ingredients I am already in love with, particularly since the release of books such as Moro East and Persia in Peckham.

This roast pumpkin with burnt aubergine and pomegranate molasses is a current favourite. Soft, sweet squash scattered with crunchy toasted seeds and nuts, accompanied by an aubergine sauce which is pure genius. I know I will continue making this sauce for many years to come. The aubergine is charred until wrinkly and often bursting – the smoky flesh then scraped and combined with natural yoghurt, parsley, garlic, lemon juice and that sticky, fragrant molasses. Great sweet and sour flavours and contrasting textures.

The squash didn’t make it onto a plate, I just plonked the sauce in the middle and we ate the whole lot, from the oven dish, on the sofa. The original sauce recipe calls for olive oil but I left it out (Christmas calorie guilt) and it still tastes amazing. In fact, I may even prefer it.

I picked up two more aubergines on the way home yesterday, to make a double batch this afternoon. I will be munching through it while thumbing through the book, trying to decide which of the ten or so earmarked recipes will be next on my hitlist. This is a true pleasure in itself, for the book is a beautiful thing. Glorious pictures of the Ottolenghi establishment/s, platters towered high with lush, vibrant salads, perfectly cooked meats and decadent cakes and pastries.

Glossy pages, beautiful photography and chef magic aside however, I reckon Ottolenghi is the perfect book for the home cook. The recipes are easy to make yet impressive and (at the risk of sounding a bit Jamie O), sexy. There is a sense of generosity, a celebration of ingredients, the flavour of each being clearly discernable – no fussing. The Ottolenghi passion has jumped right from the chefs to the book to the plate to my belly and – I think I may be in love.

Roasted Butternut Squash with Burnt Aubergine and Pomegranate Molasses (from Ottolenghi – The Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sammi Tamimi).
(I bought a big bottle of pomegranate molasses in my local Sainsbury’s for £2.50 ish. It is also available in delis and middle Eastern food shops).

1 large butternut squash (I used a small pumpkin)
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon pumpkin seeds
1 tablespoon sunflower seeds (I didn’t have any)
1 tablespoon black (or white) sesame seeds
1 teaspoon nigella (black onion) seeds
10g sliced almonds
10g basil leaves (I didn’t have any)
Sea salt and black pepper

For the sauce
1 medium aubergine
150g Greek yoghurt, room temp
2 tablespoons olive oil (I left this out)
1.5 teaspoons pomegranate molasses
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon roughly choppped flatleaf parsley
1 garlic clove, crushed

- Preheat oven to 220C/Gas 7/425F. Cut the squash into wedges, 2-3cm thick. Remove the seeds and arrange in a roasting tray, skin side down. Brush with half the oil and season well. Cook for 25-30 minutes until soft and slightly brown.

- Reduce the oven to 180C/Gas4/350F. Spread the almonds and seeds on a roasting tray and toast for 8-10 minutes, until lightly browned. Allow to cool.

- For the sauce, either put the aubergine directly onto a gas hob flame, turning occasionally, for 10-15 minutes, until the skin is dried and cracked and the aubergine smells smoky. You can also do this by putting the aubergine under a hot grill. The aubergine often bursts I find, but this is fine. Just be careful not to lose that flesh! It needs to be very soft inside.

- Scoop the flesh from the aubergine and discard the skin. Drain the flesh in a colander for ten minutes, then chop roughly and combine with the yoghurt, oil, pomegranate molasses, lemon juice, garlic, parsley and season.

- Arrange the squash on a plate, scatter over the seeds and nuts and serve the dressing alongside. Scatter over the basil and serve.

Doesn’t that stew look comforting? And wouldn’t it feel even more so if it was easy on the wallet? Well, get ready for a big old hug on the inside, because (award-winning) food writer Fiona Beckett has just released her new book, ‘The Frugal Cook‘ and very well timed it is too. As a long-time reader of Fiona’s blog, I was keen to see how her ideas had come together, to share them with you and, importantly, to cook something from the book and tell you about it.

Many of us may be watching those pennies right now but the message here is one we would do well to keep in mind even in times of greater prosperity, the reason being this – there’s some damn good eatin’ to be had in those cheaper cuts, leftovers and general all-round stretching. Who can argue with the idea of squeezing every last drop of flavour out of your ingredients?

Fiona offers guidance for cooking cheaper cuts of meat, like the ‘scrag-end’ of lamb called for in this stew recipe (that’s neck chops to you and me). Given the right treatment, these unassuming chunks of meat can add real depth of flavour to a dish. Here for example, they are first simmered to make a stock before being de-boned and the meat added back to the pot.

You get all the unctuousness from the fat and bone marrow and, cooked together with some one-pot friendly veggies such as leeks, carrot and potato, you end up with something truly warming and flavourful (for the next two days, to feed two hungry people). I replaced parsley with mint and thyme with rosemary as those are the herbs I had to hand – you could similarly substitute vegetables (I added some mushrooms that were threatening to grow fungus of their own) and the next day we even threw in some dumplings. How fantastically old school.

Not all the recipes are time consuming slow-bubblers, of course and I have some earmarked already – warm cauliflower, egg and anchovy salad among them. Fiona says she loves anchovies and so do I. It also pleases me to find she loves ingredients such as prunes, kidneys, and rabbit – it seems we have a lot in common. There is one small thing we disagree on though and that’s the vegetable delivery box. Fiona says they don’t work for her (fair enough) while I, on the other hand, couldn’t live without mine and have absolutely no problem ripping through it. Just proves great minds can’t always think alike! That, and the whole ‘portion control’ section. She’s right though, you shouldn’t all be as greedy as me. Not being as greedy as me will definitely save you money.

Other top tips for slashing your food bill can be found in sections addressing sourcing, stretching, foraging, bargaining, storing, disposing and more – Fiona’s covered the lot. People, parents, friends – if there is a student in your life this seriously must be a Christmas gift no-brainer? Eating well while keeping food costs down (when all they do is keep rising) is a skill, and one which Fiona has clearly mastered. That aside, there is another important point here I think – that of returning to a way of eating somewhat lost over the years. Sourcing carefully, cutting down on food waste, using up leftovers and, as a result, thinking a little more creatively, all makes for meals which are not only rewarding for the soul (and the stomach) but for the wallet as well.

The Frugal Cook is available from Amazon
Fiona also writes www.beyondbakedbeans.com (for more advice on how to manage your food costs).

These are easily my two favourite cookbooks of the moment. I’ve been meaning to make the Persepolitan Roast Chicken from Sally’s book for ages but what to eat with it? As I delved a little further into the combinations of Iranian cuisine I see feta pops up over and over. I have some feta in my fridge, left over from yesterday’s lunch. But how to use it? Hmmmmm, the wonderful blood oranges are in season right now. Feta and oranges, yum. A quick flick through Moro East turns up exactly what I vaguely remember seeing a couple of weeks back, a feta, chicory and orange salad. Ok, so there might be a lot going on flavour-wise with the chicken and now there’s a lot going on flavour-wise with the salad, but I’m in that kind of mood. And I’m not going to eat my bulgur plain either, oh no, I’m going to flip one page over from the chicory and orange salad to the delightful sounding bulgur, celery and pomegranate salad.

I usually put my flavourings for chicken under the skin but Sally says to cram the stuffing into the cavity of the bird. The stuffing is sweet but not overly so and I’m glad in the end that I made the sharp and tangy salads to contrast it. The saffron adds flavour as well as a striking colour, making the recipe seem quite indulgent.

The recipe says to steep ground saffron in water. I used a pinch of ‘normal’ saffron and steeped it in 100ml of water, just to ensure even distribution over the chicken. Sally also mentions that she never bothers to truss the chicken, she just folds over and ‘hopes for the best’. I was relieved to hear this as that is exactly what I do but it also represents one of the best things about the book; you can tell that she is a ‘real’ cook, a home cook. She may not perform every process to Michelin star standard, but she knows how to turn out great tasting grub.

I didn’t get to go to Persepolis again this weekend. It seems something is against this idea and other commitments intervene. I am absolutely determined to visit next week. Nothing will stand in my way. It’s better this way anyhow, as I’ll be able to talk to Sally about one of her recipes that I have actually made (if she is there, of course). I may even ask her to sign the book.

I made a couple of modifications to the recipe, substituting barberries for cranberries and omitting the almonds altogether in favour of more of my favourite pistachios. I’ll detail the recipe here as I made it. The original also includes some ‘chips’ which are cooked with the chicken for the last portion of it’s roasting time but as you can see, I had enough going on already! The recipe also requires you to soak the fruit but doesn’t specify how long you should do this for. After a bit of googling I found that ideally, the fruit should soak overnight. I soaked mine for a couple of hours and achieved a satisfactory plumpness.

Persepolitan Roast Stuffed Chicken
Adapted from Persia in Peckham by Sally Butcher

100g cranberries
50g prunes, soaked and pitted
50g dried apricots, soaked
50g walnuts
50g pistachios
50g sour cherries
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 tablespoon tomato puree
salt and pepper
1 plump chicken (mine was medium sized)
1 pinch saffron strands, steeped in 100ml boiling water
150g butter

-Preheat the oven to 180 degrees C/Gas 4/350F
-Pat the soaked fruit dry and roughly chop it. Roughly chop the walnuts.
-Melt 50g of the butter and fry all the fruit and nuts together for 6-7 minutes. Add the tomato puree, cinnamon and cardamom, cook for a minute and remove from the heat.
-Season the inside of the chicken, then cram the stuffing inside. Fold the skin of the chicken over the cavity or truss if you dare.
-Melt the rest of the butter, add the saffron mix and then pour over the bird.
-Cover with foil and roast for around 40 minutes.
-Remove the foil and continue to cook at 190 degrees C/gas 5/375 F, until the skin is crispy (this is when you put your potatoes in if you are using them).

Now, onto Moro East. For the bulgur salad, you need to juice the seeds from half a pomegranate and keep the seeds from the other half for the salad. But pomegranates are so tricksy aren’t they?! Firstly, I suggest concentrating so you don’t do what I did and cut the pom the wrong way across. This just makes things harder. As you can see from the picture, I then proceeded to butcher the pom in a totally unprofessional fashion.

I used twice the amount of bulgur as the recipe called for as I wanted to make this more of a grain-based dish. I also used a large head of celery. I actually reduced the amount of oil in the dressing from 6 tablespoons to 4 and although I had more grain, it was delicious and well dressed. Keep any of the young yellow leaves of the celery for garnish. Here is the salad as I made it.

Bulgur, Celery and Pomegranate Salad
Adapted from Moro East by Sam and Sam Clark

200g bulgur
1 large head of celery, sliced
Seeds of half a large pomegranate
100g walnuts, roughly chopped
1 small bunch flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon fresh mint, finely chopped

Juice of half a large pomegranate (push the seeds through a sieve)
2 garlic cloves, crushed with a teaspoon of salt
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

- Whisk the dressing ingredients together, season, set aside.
- Cover the bulgur with boiling water and stand for 10 minutes, then drain any excess liquid and set aside
- Mix everything together in a serving bowl and add the dressing. Serve immediately (Sam and Sam recommend leaving the walnuts out until ready to serve as they can make the salad taste bitter if left for a while)

For the orange salad, I just amended the quantities to my taste and omitted the black olives as I had so much going on already. Sam and Sam suggest using blood oranges if they are in season, which they are, so I did and they look so pretty.

Feta, Chicory and Orange Salad
Adapted from Moro East by Sam and Sam Clark

3 blood oranges
2 large heads of chicory, leaves separated
1 small bunch flat leaf parsley, leaves picked
1 teaspoon dried oregano (the original recipe calls for 1 tablespoon of fresh but I couldn’t get hold of any)
1/2 small red onion, sliced thinly
100g feta cheese
100g walnut halves

4 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon good-quality cider vinegar

-Whisk the dressing ingredients together, season and set aside
-Cut the rind and pith from the oranges and slice them into 1cm-ish rounds
-Arrange on a serving plate with the chicory, parsley, oregano and onion
-Pour over the dressing and gently mix. Then crumble over the feta and add the walnuts

Finally, finally….after much anguish, many phone calls and a couple of engineer visits, I am back online. Phew! We are now on the halfway point between East Dulwich and Peckham Rye, which has opened up a whole new world of influences and ingredients.

Peckham has a bad reputation, but has been the focus of an intensive programme of regeneration. Don’t get me wrong, it’s far from perfect, but the area has a buzz about it – a happy, energetic vibe. It’s noisy and vibrant and I love it. The mix of cultures here means there is a huge variety of ingredients available; shops piled high with exotic produce compete against each other with loud music. There’s a really diverse community of people, Caribbean, Bangladeshi, Nigerian, Eastern European and more. It’s exciting and fresh – like a whole new world for my taste buds! If you really want to get a sense of the place however, I urge you to pick up a copy of ‘Persia in Peckham’ by Sally Butcher. Sally and her husband run a shop called ‘Persepolis’, selling all manner of things Iranian, including some really exciting ingredients. How lucky am I? I’ve just moved to the area and I find this famous little gem right on my doorstep! Sally includes a chapter called ‘the Peckham influence’ which celebrates the diversity and energy of this community. It’s really absorbing.

The book reads in the same way as the best ones always do, like a story. Well, it is a story, Sally tells us how she has embraced the culture of Persia, about her family and of course, the food they share. ‘Persia in Peckham’ is one of those books where you can’t decide what to make first. I end up frantically flicking between pages, ‘I want to try this, and this and this….’ Here’s a few I managed to pin down……

Pomegranate soup
Persepolitan roast stuffed chicken (roasted with fruits, nuts and spices).
Broad bean balls (rice, minced lamb, herbs with yoghurt sauce).
Mackerel pan fried, coated in hemp and sesame crumble.
Sour cherry rice.
Rose, raspberry and almond roulade.

The way Sally opens the door to Persian cuisine is so inviting. She explains the cornerstones of the Iranian way of eating, the ingredients that pop up over and over; mountains of fresh herbs, rice, pomegranates, saffron…I’m working up to ‘Fried Brains’. I don’t think I’m quite ready for that one…

NB: I’ll be visiting Persepolis as soon as soon as possible. If anyone else has been, please, please let me know everything!