Thank you, last summer, for the tomato sauce...

When you're home late, you're cold, you shouldn't be because it's mid-May, but it's been raining on and off all day... pasta with sauce made last August is all that anybody really needs.

Last summer, I made an utterly basic tomato sauce with tomatoes from the farm down the road. The pots had just sat in the cupboard all through winter, me periodically glancing at them, and thinking that winter hadn't got that bad yet.

Winter never did get that bad. But spring did. We had three weeks of spring, everything blossomed, flowered, there were drifts of petals swirling past our windows, then we had two weeks of glorious summer during which I got sunburned twice, and ... suddenly... it became early spring again.

By which I mean it got cold, started to rain, got colder, went on raining, and was generally unpleasant. Is generally unpleasant. I have had to put my sandals away and get my wellies back out! Brrrr...

And therefore, after spending the day outside at a barbecue, we were all cold, hoping that we hadn't caught cold, and craving something warm, smooth, and ultimately comforting.

There are few things more comforting than pasta. Pasta with lots of rich, oily tomato sauce. Pasta that you can bury your head in, and pull up over your cold feet like a lovely fleece blanket. Pasta that loves you, and loves your tummy, and doesn't care that it's been waiting in the cupboard for the last 9 months...

Jurassic Cooking

Greta, as I do believe I have mentioned several times before, is a toddler with... particular tastes in food. She likes what she likes, and most of the time, she doesn't like whatever it is that I'm waving in front of her mouth, hoping like mad that she'll actually open up and try a bite.

Except for things like garlic sausage, cheese with garlic, Cenovis (Swiss Marmite/Vegemite), old gruyère, radishes (the hotter the better), and assorted other foods that babies are just not supposed to like. On the other hand- mashed potato is disgusting, mashed banana is beyond even contemplation, cooked carrot is evil, and all the usual baby foods recommended in the books are utterly rejected.

Greta therefore spent her first few months of "solids" being fed out of jars, as I got tired of her throwing everything that I cooked for her with love and devotion onto the floor. At least with jarred food, when she screamed the place down at every spoon, I didn't feel like she was rejecting my cooking! However, once we moved, I decided to try again. And to add garlic.

She started eating a bit more, but then the warm weather intervened. Greta, rather like her parents, is a cold-weather person. And for the last couple of months, whenever the temperature went over 25C (i.e. most of the time), well... Greta didn't want to eat. We managed by feeding her Petits Suisses at every meal, but that's not hugely healthy. I did usually manage to get the odd spoonful of apple-sauce into her to salve my vitamin-conscious soul, but more than that, well, NO, Mama! And so my carefully crafted home-made portions of baby food have been either washed down the sink (in the case of, for example, courgette risotto with chicken), or dumped in the bin (pasta with tomato sauce and tofu).

Finally, praise the lords and pass the biscuits, the weather has begun to cool. And the effect on Greta's appetite has been quite impressive. From an average daily consumption (excluding milk and water) of maybe 2 Petits Suisses, 2 tablespoonfuls of fruit, and a couple of mouthfuls of something else random, usually all accompanied by howls and much struggling... she's suddenly chomping down on 200g of food at a sitting. The only reason it's not more is that I find myself holding back, worried that she's going to throw up!

On the way back from the walk today I stopped off at the farm, and picked up another 3kg of tomatoes, as well as some plums and some mirabelles. I intend to make plum jam later in the week, but as I'm out of sugar, it won't be today.

I put aside about 1kg of the tomatoes for salads and sandwiches- the others I skinned, de-seeded, chopped extremely roughly, and put in a pan. I cooked them for I think about 45 minutes, crushing them with a wooden spoon, adding only a bit of salt and pepper. In the mean time, in the water I'd used to briefly boil the tomatoes to help with the peeling, I cooked some small pasta shapes. Next to that, I steamed a chopped courgette.

Having bottled most of the tomato coulis, once it was thick enough (this is going in the basement for winter), I added what was left to a small bowl of the pasta, with some of the courgettes, and a good dollop of olive oil. Let's see what she makes of that for her dinner.

My food plans for this week, other than the aforementioned plum jam, includes making a lot more tomato coulis, as well as tomato sauce, for jarring and stashing for the cold season. I'm thinking tomato and basil sauce, tomato and courgette sauce, tomato and aubergine...

--

Later edit: She did not like it. She spat out five teaspoonfuls one after the other, making a face, then started shaking her head NO and preparing to cry. I gave up. Peter ate it instead, and said it was delicious.

Back to the drawing board!

Summer dishes

For a day when it's been over 34C, I've certainly done a lot of cooking! Fortunately, however, other than the bulghur for the tabbouleh, it was all chopping and mixing and stirring.

Peter was making calf's eyes at me last night, reminding me that I'd promised to make tabbouleh and guacamole for him this week. These two are some of our default Summer Foods, and we get through a lot of them over the hot months.

I stopped by the farm on the way home from Greta's daily walk and picked up another three kilos of tomatoes. They're so good, I can't get over how much flavour they have. I was speaking to the farmer's wife (and the farmer, who was boldly displaying a grey-haired torso and fuzzy belly), and she told me they have masses more tomatoes, even in the "cold room", as well as mirabelles and plums. I might have to make more jam than planned, as I have a feeling that mirabelles and honey might go very well together.

Even more so as there's a place across the road and along a few metres advertising local honey... and I should also go up the road in the other direction to the Domaine and buy some of their peaches.

But to get back to what I did with the tomatoes. After I staggered in and put Greta down, gave her plenty of water to drink, gulped a couple of pints myself, I started chopping.

First up, gazpacho, adapted from Not Derby Pie. What is Derby Pie, I wonder?

Ingredients:
- 1 chunk, about 3 cm thick, of stale wholemeal pain de campagne
- 5 garlic cloves
- a couple of big pinches of sel de mer aux herbes de provence
- 2.5 tablespoons vinaigre de Xeres
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
- 1.3 kilos ripe tomatoes, cored and quartered
- 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil (I used a really nice olive oil that Peter bought from his caviste in Gland)

I soaked the chunk of bread in water for a couple of minutes, then squeezed it dry-ish. Put that in the blender, with just over half the tomatoes (what was left was one whole tomato of about 600g!). I put the cumin seeds in my mortar and pestle, bashed at them a minute or so, then added the garlic cloves and the salt, and pounded them down together. Put that and the sugar in the blender, then turned it on. It took a bare half minute to be nice and smooth, so I then added the rest of the tomato, blended that in, then slowly poured the olive oil in through the top.

That then went into the fridge to meld and settle.



Peter and I had a bowl each for supper (well, he had two), and it was very good. Richly flavoured, punch-y with the garlic, and, as Peter put it, "It's smooth, but it has texture. It scrapes across my tongue in a good way."

I might knock up a jar (with half the garlic) for my parents some time soon, they'd like it.

I then cooked just under a mug-ful of organic bulghur. It would have been a mug-ful, but it was the end of the packet!




The trick to making a good tabbouleh, I am convinced, is to not overcook your grain. I was at a bbq last weekend where the one salad that stood practically untouched was a tabbouleh made with couscous that was so wet that the whole thing just looked like a bowl of mush. It's a good idea to actually slightly undercook the grain, as it is going to be snuggled up to tomatoes and cucumbers, as well as having olive oil and lemon juice poured over it.

Unfortunately, I had a small squally Greta clinging to my ankle at this point, demanding to be picked up before she got eaten by hyenas, so I overcooked the bulghur a bit. Annoying, but not the end of the world, as I think I got it just in time.

To the cooked bulghur, I added:
- 2 large (the size of my fist and a bit over!) tomatoes, seeded, and diced
- 2/3 of a cucumber, seeded, diced
- a handful of golden sultanas that I had left over from making chutney- normally I'd put in a couple of handfuls of raisins, although I have put in mango at times, which works well
- a chopped spring onion (it should have been two, but I only had two left, and needed the other one for guacamole)
- 2 packs (0.020 kg each) of mint, leaves sliced finely into a chiffonade
- 2 bundles of flat parsley, leaves chopped extremely roughly- sometimes I use rocket instead
- juice of two lemons
- plenty of olive oil
- salt, freshly-ground black pepper

All mixed together, and left for a couple of hours. I make this for summer parties, and it always vanishes very fast! I think the difference to how tabbouleh is usually made around here is that I stick to a more "traditional" interpretation, i.e. I make sure that there is lots and lots of green herbs, whereas when you buy it ready-made here, it's usually a lot of couscous and a few flecks of mint, so that is how most people make it.



Peter says that I did catch the bulghur in time. As he had two bowls of that as well for dinner, I suppose he's right. He did complain that I hadn't chopped the parsley small enough, though. What is left, I will split up into individual tupperwares, and stack in the fridge, as otherwise he'll eat all the rest of the bowl in one sitting. If it's divided up, he's a bit more reasonable!

Having finished making the tabbouleh, I handed Greta over to her father for long enough for me to make the guacamole, as it's a bit difficult to chop coriander with a toddler in one arm.

I also make a relatively "traditional" version of guacamole. Instead of the absolutely smooth green paste that for some reason some people seem to think is about right (I blame the back of the Old El Paso packets of spice for guacamole, which say "take two avocadoes, mush them up, add this packet, you're done"), I make quite a chunky one.

- 3-4 avocadoes, as ripe as possible before going off (and I've had some "guacamole" served to me where the avocadoes were so unripe that they were actually diced!)
- 2 spring onions, chopped (I only had one left due to using the other in the tabbouleh- often I put the white part of just one in, and the green of two)
- 2 packs (0.020 kg) of coriander, thick stems removed, chopped
- 1 medium tomato (or a handful of cherry tomatoes), seeded, diced
- lime juice (a few tablespoons)
- and... erm... the Old El Paso packet. Because I've tried making my own mix, and this is the best. But I do add chili flakes to it.

Tip the OEP packet contents into a small bowl, add the lime juice and chili flakes, stir. Leave whilst you remove the avocado flesh and put it into a bowl (I put it straight into the tupperware I'm going to keep it in). Mash, not too smoothly, but not leaving any big lumps. Add the lime juice and OEP, stir well. Don't beat any air into it, however- air is what makes the colour turn, and you don't want that! Add the onions, tomato, and chopped coriander, and a bit of salt. Mix it in, smooth the top, cover it with a layer of plastic wrap smoothed down onto the surface to keep the air out, put the lid on the tupperware, put it in the fridge for a couple of hours.

These days, I serve it with pita crisps. It used to be chili tortilla crisps, but pita crisps are a nice change. Unfortunately, we're out at the moment, so we didn't have any tonight. I shall try and pick some up tomorrow at Coop.

My jam is currently at the steeping stage in the saucepan. I'll start cooking it in about 45 minutes, now that the weather has finally cooled down enough to be bearable!

Peach Chutney, Tomato Chutney, Watermelon Rind Pickles

This evening, I made four pots (two half-litre, two 250 ml) of tomato chutney, having finally managed to find nigella seeds in an organic/diet shop in town. I'd spent the last week trying to find nigella, having identified them variously as onion seed, kalonji, and black cumin. People mainly just looked at me strangely when I asked if they had it- I tried Globus, Manor, Coop... Then on Saturday morning I bumped into my best friend in town, told her what I was looking for, and she suggested an Asian shop up near Placette (sorry- Manor!). So I went there on Monday morning. No luck, but I did find that it has all sorts of things that I had no idea I could find around here- such as tamarind. I've been reading recipes with tamarind in them for a couple of years now, but always assumed that it hadn't made it to Switzerland yet. Serves me right for not poking around more! However, on the way to the shop, I walked past the above-mentioned organic shop, so I stepped in there on the off chance. I found all sorts of other things there too, such as teff (to make injera with- I've only had injera once, but I loved it), and dulse. Will bear the two shops in mind in future!

So that was my final ingredient for the chutney. I've been making chutney on and off for about two weeks now. It started off with a white peach, ginger and chili chutney which I made up due to having too many white peaches that were turning too fast to mold. I put two red chilis in there, making it lethally hot- hence the single pot was handed over to my parents with instructions to let it mature for a few weeks! Since then, I've made it again, with yellow peaches and only one chili.

Ingredients:
- peaches
- mustard seeds
- chili
- red wine vinegar
- onion (I think)
- brown sugar

Chop peaches, without skinning them, put in large enamel casserole dish, simmer until softened, add the other ingredients, simmer until thick. No doubt not at all the right way to make it, but sometimes you just make things up as you go along...

Having made a watermelon and feta salad for a family party, I remembered reading about watermelon rind pickles. I then spent a few days trying to round up what I needed for that- and now have two jars sitting maturing in the cupboard. Not so sure how that's going to go. They look... interesting. Probably more interesting than tasty. But I might be pleasantly surprised. I more or less used this recipe.

The tomato chutney, I had an urge towards making due to the farm around the corner selling some glorious big red tomatoes that looked absolutely yummy. And we've been meaning to start buying fruit and vegetables in the village anyway- can't get less food miles than that! Assuming that it would be "cooler" at about 16h, I waited until then, popped Greta on my back, and walked down the road.

It may have been cooler than earlier... but it was still incredibly hot, about 32C. Thank goodness it was only a 3 minute shuffle, or we would have melted away, leaving nothing but a pile of clothes and a baby carrier on the road.

The farmer's wife (why do we always assume she's the farmer's wife and not the farmer herself?) was having a nap, but a little old lady who turned out to be my neighbour-from-across-the-road hauled herself out of the shade of a parasol under a tree to sell me three kilos of tomatoes for very cheap, and have a chat about who she knew in my building. I'd have loved to stay and be friendly, but we were standing right in the sun, and although I'd smeared Greta with sunblock before coming out, I wasn't happy about it. Besides that I was also slowly wilting!

So we said our goodbyes, Greta waving politely, and walked back home. Of course, I wanted to start up my chutney immediately, as you do when you've finally got all your ingredients together, but Greta got very clingy and didn't want put down when we got back. I managed to measure spices out and tip them into a bowl, ditto the sugar, and I even managed to par-cook and then skin 2 kg of tomatoes (1 kg saved for salads and sandwiches), which was pretty impressive with only one hand. But then, as I've discovered since having Greta- most things can be done with one hand. Including breaking and separating eggs. As long as you don't mind egg white all over your fingers!

After she went to bed, I had a final review of my two source recipes. I'd picked this recipe from Becks and Posh, and another from allrecipes, and had decided to pretty much meld the two.

Ingredients:
- olive oil
- 2 tsp brown mustard seeds
- 2 tsp nigella seeds
- 2 tsp fennel seeds (a leap of faith, this, as I dislike anise flavour intensely!)
- 2 tsp cumin seeds
- 6-8 cloves garlic, chopped finely
- 2 inches ginger root, chopped finely (I put the ginger and the garlic through the mini-chopper together)
- 1 cup golden raisins (which was too many- it should have been about half)
- 4 dried red chilis (not quite dried- I used ones I bought in a pack a few weeks ago when I was making a proper red Thai fish curry, and hadn't used these ones, so they've been sitting out drying)
- 1 tsp piment d'Espelette
- 2 cups organic cane sugar
- 2 1/2 cups apple vinegar
- 2 kg tomatoes

I heated the oil, added the spices and chilis, stirred, left a minute or two, then added the garlic and ginger, stirred that around briefly, then added the vinegar followed by the sugar. Stirred until the sugar had dissolved, then added the tomatoes and the sultanas. I simmered the pot for just under two hours. Becks and Posh said that it should be sloppy, and it was. Much sloppier than I had thought it would be, even with the warning! I spooned out one half litre into a jar, then the two 250ml jars, then did another half litre, and that was it. Inverted the jars, left for a bit, then labelled them with these great labels that dissolve in the dishwater, and left them to cool over night.

I'm now contemplating either plum or greengage jam (or both) with vanilla. Probably based on this recipe from Chez Pim.