Peckham’s Rye Lane is a right higgle piggle of shops. Traders pile on top of one another; get your mobile phone unlocked while you wait for the butcher to dice your goat meat. There are towers of unusual vegetables, mountains of scotch bonnet chillies, the odd box of African land snails and of course yams, yams and yet more yams  (just don’t look at the frozen fish or broiler chickens). There’s so much interesting stuff down there I just can’t get through it fast enough so I’ve set myself a little challenge. For the next few weeks, I’ll pick up a new ingredient every few days – something I’ve never used before and quite possibly something I won’t recognise. A new and exciting culinary adventure.

Things kicked things off on Sunday with salt fish – something I’ve eaten many times but never got around to cooking at home. A few quid bought me the chunks you see above. I’ve no idea what type of fish it is though and didn’t have much joy communicating with the shop keeper: “do you know what type of fish it is?” “£3,” was the reply. It went on like that for a while. We’ll get there.

When researching recipes I came across a few that recommended boiling the fish in several changes of water rather than soaking it overnight. I was tempted to try it as a time saving measure but feared the flesh not tenderising enough and so plunged the pieces into (several changes) of cold water for 24 hours. If anyone has tried the boiling method then please do let me know. The next stage was rather more arduous than anticipated as I wrestled with the still rather fibrous blocks in an attempt to remove the skin and tease out bones. Again, advice most welcome.

The chosen recipe was salt fish buljol: a traditional Trinidadian dish, apparently often eaten at breakfast. It ticked the right boxes for being simple (don’t run before you can walk) and because I had all the ingredients in anyway. The mixture is cooked until most of the moisture evaporates, leaving a rich amalgamation which celebrates the slightly chewy, meaty, unusual flaky texture of the fish. It is of course salty. We found more than we bargained for in this simple, yet deeply comforting dish.

The effort of preparation was definitely worth it then – salt fish is the bomb. I think maybe fritters are in the pipeline and Chris made some stonking fish cakes with the leftovers. A very encouraging start to my little experiment. Next on the list is a vegetable called Okazi; I’ve found a recipe for it I’m really rather excited about.

Salt Fish Buljol

About as much salt fish as you see at the top of this post (sorry, didn’t weigh it)
2/3 can chopped tomatoes
2 medium onions, finely chopped
2 red peppers finely chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
Black pepper
1/2 – 1 whole scotch bonnet chilli, de-seeded and finely chopped
Lettuce, for serving (optional). Avocado slices are also a nice accompaniment, apparently
Oil for cooking

Soak the salt fish overnight in several changes of water then pull off the skin and flake the flesh. Heat the oil in a wide pan over a medium heat and add the onions, peppers, chilli and tomatoes (I thought it odd not to soften the onions and peppers first but it works out don’t worry). Let that cook for a few minutes then add the fish, half the lemon juice and a good sprinkling of black pepper.

Cook the mixture down on a low heat until the moisture is almost all gone. This probably takes about 15-20 minutes. Taste and add more lemon juice if you think it needs it. Allow to cool then arrange on top of the lettuce.

The tinda masala is one of my favourite dishes at Tayyabs; certainly my favourite vegetarian dish and a no-brainer when it comes to ordering. The very first time I went there, I noticed it clinging on at the bottom of the menu and decided to try it as a sympathy order. When I put the first mouthful in my greedy gob however, there was no doubt that the dish was laughing in the face of my pity. I’ve only ever been served one disappointing tinda which, sadly, arrived after I’d been talking my mate’s ear off about it in the pub beforehand. It was watery, bland, lukewarm and all the worse for me bigging it up so much. Generally though those juicy little gourds are cooked on a fierce heat with a punchy, slightly sour sauce, the main ingredients of which Tayyabs insist are just garlic, ginger and chilli; I can’t blame them for not wanting to reveal their secrets.

I’ve seen fresh tinda around recently, but they always seem to look very tired. I cannot tell you the frustration this caused me until eventually, the canned ones stepped in to offer succour.  As soon as I opened that tin, I got a familiar waft of briny tinda – Tayyabs must use the canned version too.

I used this recipe from Mamta’s kitchen, although I omitted the potato and used mustard seeds where she suggests a choice between mustard and cumin. Overall I was pleased with the result: a perfect starting point for some experimentation, although I did think the tomato dominated and will reduce that considerably or just add some fresh at the end like Tayyabs do. A crispy onion garnish would also be most welcome. The tinda don’t really have much flavour of their own but are special for being so incredibly thirsty, soaking up the spiced juices which then burst into the mouth at the slightest pressure. Next time, I will tweak the spices and cook it faster at a higher heat, to avoid breaking up the tinda so much. Of course, I’ll need to make a trip to Tayyabs first for research purposes, just to make sure I get that spicing right. What a hardship.

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.

Funny looking things Jerusalem artichokes. All nobbly and difficult to peel. That, together with their unfamiliarity (not to mention their reputation for causing wind), perhaps doesn’t endear them to everyone. I however, love them. I adore their earthy, unique flavour and versatility – a bit like a potato but more interesting.

I’m keeping this brief (Christmas shopping anyone?) but I just want to share this recipe – pan fried scallops all caramelised without and soft within, nestled in a deeply comforting and wintry soup. I’ve drizzled the soup with just a little oil, flavoured with chilli, lemon and herbs – although I actually prefer my usual topping of crispy bacon (chorizo is also good) or hazelnuts, either incorporated into the soup or toasted, buttered and sprinkled on top. Mushrooms would also be fantastic. Oh and yes, I do know my bowl is chipped. That’s beacuse I am a real person.

I seem to have lost the recipe along with mind in my Christmas preparations but you don’t really need one – it’s soup (the recipe, not my mind). Here’s a rough outline. Fry one stick of celery and 1 small leek in a little olive oil and a nob of butter until softened. Add a bay leaf, about a tablespoon of thyme (I think, maybe not but it can’t hurt) and a clove of crushed garlic. Give it a stir then add a good splash of white wine and allow to cook for a couple of minutes. Add about 450ml stock and 8-10 Jerusalem artichokes, roughly chunked. Bring to the boil and cook until the artichokes are tender, then blend. Adjust the seasoning. Add a splash of cream, milk, creme fraiche or something of that ilk if you fancy. Pan fry the scallops in butter and a little oil for about 90 seconds each side then nestle in the soup. Finish with a drizzle of something if you feel that way inclined.

If you are a fan of Jerusalem artichokes or you think you might like to become one, this is yummy too.
Jerusalem artichoke and hazelnut soup with crispy bacon.

(I’ve heard that adding lemon juice to your artichokes will negate some of the less desirable gastrointestinal effects – I have no idea if this is true. Apparently, we all react differently, so you might want to try eating a small amount first….).

Apologies for the week-long absence. Food Stories HQ is currently stricken with sickness. This, added to the looming deadline for my masters dissertation and the full-time job thing, well, you could say I’m a bit strapped for time. Anyway, mini-moan over. Let’s talk about the food. Sometimes, I feel like other bloggers and I are completely on the same wavelength. Of course, those of us in the same or closely related parts of the world will be eating similar ingredients due to the changing seasons or current trends. Occasionally though, we find ourselves on the same little foodie quests and journeys.

Right now, my doppelgänger is Allen from Eating out Loud. For my blogiversary, I did a week of posting every day, a mini NaBloPoMo if you will. Last week, Allen did the same – no blogiversary, just some great recipes. I am also currently on a quest to reduce the amount of fat in my diet and explore nutritious alternatives and guess what? Allen’s been on that quest for a while now. In fact, I made his Polenta Tart Crust recently, a wonderfully creative way to avoid the health hazards of eating pastry too often. This past week, Allen has been exploring the joys of watermelon and guess what I can’t get out of my head?

When he posted a recipe for watermelon and feta salad, I commented that this was one of my all-time favourites because well, it is. I’ve added and taken away over the years but here is my current version. I usually make this salad with toasted pumpkin seeds; in fact, it was one of Food Stories’ first ever posts. I didn’t have any today however, so I added poppy seeds – my new food fad favourite.

They also go fantastically well with cucumber, a la Ottolenghi. If you’re not used to eating watermelon with savoury ingredients – I promise, you won’t be disappointed. The combo of salty feta, olives and juicy fruit is a life changer. A touch of mint and a squeeze of lime juice lifts the whole thing nicely. I usually get a slightly puzzled look followed by some oohing and ahhing, munching, sigh of pleasure, that kind of thing…

Watermelon and Feta Salad with Poppy Seeds

1 fat wedge of watermelon, de-seeded and cut into chunks
150g feta cheese, crumbled
1 small red onion, finely sliced
Kalamata olives (10 or so)
Half a cucumber, de-seeded and cut into slices
Small handful mint leaves, finely sliced
Half the amount of parsley, leaves picked and roughly chopped
Juice of 1 lime
Extra virgin olive oil (about 2 tablespoons)
Black pepper
Poppy seeds (about a tablespoon)

- If you have a whole watermelon and you need to dissect it, check this out. Cut the wedge into chunks and add to a bowl with the onion, olives, herbs, cheese and cucumber.
- Whisk the lime juice and olive oil together with the poppy seeds and some black pepper and add to the salad. Stir to combine and serve.