Here’s a mouthful. A little of everything in one bowl, quick and tasty.
I got some spaghetti on to boil whilst the pan business goes on. A quick frying of some bacon in a pan, and then some frozen peas and sliced chestnut mushrooms. Whilst that fries up I took a trip to the windowbox to collect some woody, aromatic thyme. I think it’s my favourite herb, so robust and penetrating, leaving a comforting note. I chuck a few leaves in with everything else.
Pasta’s about done now, so I drain that and chuck it in the pan with some creme fraiche and lemon juice. A quick season, a sloosh around for a couple of minutes, and in a bowl it goes. Instant and tasty.
This moussaka posited an excellent time-saver: red pesto as the main gravy indredient. You can’t hold back with moussaka; as a permutation of lasagne as all nations are wont to have, bold flavours work best here. This version oozed lambiness, retaining a lot of that savoury juice that characterizes rich lamb dishes.
The red pesto saved a lot of bother by forming the basis of the sauce, both gutsy and part tomatoey. Persuaded to try again I’d some tomato puree to oomph up that side. In a semi-traditional nod this recipe had a custardy topping, one which I’ve never been oversold on. And this is no exception. A clagginess underscores any flavour advantage you might gain. I’d rather head back to roux territory for the ultimate aubergine topping. And what a star aubergine is here. Meaty, moist and exuding a mediterranean flavour, and somehow always so filling.
Served with leftover courgettes from yesterday, this was a very satisfying meal.
Inspired by a recipe in last month’s delicious magazine, this faintly Moroccan dish seemed too tempting to pass up. I love an excuse to eat lamb, which can often take too long to cook, so when I find a snappy lamb dish difficult to ignore.
I got some lovely lamb neck fillet, all chunky and packed with lambiness. This was smeared in a yoghurt-spice mixture and left alone for a while. The spice was supposed to be a Moroccan-style infusion but due to a kitchen mix-up got blended with my garam masala (gary masala…) which I’ll get to the recipe for one day but rest assured it’s fairly standard Indian-y blend of cumin, cinnamon, chilli, pepper, fenugreek…
The nice and sloppy marinated lamb was griddled to brownness and then left in the oven for ten minutes whilst the other stuff went on.
The cous cous was steeped in boiling chicken stock, lemon zest and butter and left covered to absorb the flavours. Meanwhile, I griddled razor-thin sliced courgettes a coupla minutes a side to get those attractive dark lines. Five minutes later, I’m adding lemon juice, chopped coriander and the browned courgettes. Tumble it onto plates, dot with lamb and serve with lemon wedges. Not difficult at all, but filling, tasty and very nearly healthy.
I’m a big fan of home-made lasagne dishes; as many variations as there are families this side of the Alps. Alternately cheesy, beefy, saucy, chewy… it’s such a warming, filling dish full of flavour that unashamedly reeks of comfort, how could you not love it? I have my own version (of course) that I love to trot out, but my head was turned by this version apparently printed in The Times. I got it from Ocado’s recipe book given with their deliveries. It’s a touch lengthy, requiring a true béchamel and a gutsy tomato sauce but as it’s a Sunday I’ll let it go. None of it is real grind, more a case of letting things simmer.
The dish means “Lasagne in the hunter’s style”, I’m not quite sure where that part comes from. I’ve had cacciatore-style dishes before, which usually means a rich tomatoey base. Lasagne in the classic sense (and when I say classic I mean that in the English way that most of us recognise) is mostly this anyway, so hey-ho. The thing that I understand grates Italians most is the mountain of meat smothering the pasta, which after all is what the dish is named for. So I’ve made a deliberate attempt here to layer the golden sheets inbetween thin peeks of ruddy ragu and let it sing through. I use Waitrose’s fresh lasagne sheets (snob alert!) which have a wonderful chewiness and a light crispy texture when cooked unadorned. They are a wondeful fridge standby too: need papardelle / tagliatelle / faux linguini instead? Just slice as required.
Out of the oven it behaves as it should: patchy brown, angrily bubbling sauce. It was the high point however, it looked much better than it tasted. I felt here the braising steak was not given long enough to develop a tender consistency, despite me giving it longer than prescribed. Additionally the meat hasn’t had long enough to meld with the tomato sauce – the flavours are entirely separate in the mouth, and not in a fulfilling way. Beef mince would have sufficed perfectly. Done again I would brown the meat first, then let stew with the tomatoes for a lot longer – maybe two hours or so. I pushed it a little further in the simmering stage also as there was a heckuva lotta juice in there. Also adding parmesan to this béchamel is overdoing it, and becomes lost among the savoury notes.
On the positive, having chunks of meat is texturally pleasing and gives an interesting mouth-feel. The sage topping is inspired, leaving behind a camphorous perfume that sits atop the cheesiness in a pleasant way. That’s one I’ll be using elsewhere – I adore sage, particularly with oils and dairy, but struggle to find times when it’s appropriate.
In all, an interesting take on a ‘traditional’ lasagne al forno, but ultimately overwrought and trying too hard. I’ll do my usual at some point, and we’ll see how that measures up for time, effort, and taste.
PS. This does give me a chance to proffer one of my favourite lasagne-style meal tips: when taking a dish like this out of the oven, leave it to one side for five minutes or more; the cheeses and sauces will set and meld and make a topping much easier to cut through. This leaves a much tidier and cool-looking wodge of food on the plate.
