Category: coriander

pork belly confit

pork belly confit with apple & onion velouté and carrots

Pork belly is one of my absolute favourite meaty things. That crisp skin, tender meat and fleshy feel combined with it’s happy ability to take on bold flavours makes it an all-round winner.I saw some at the fabulous Essex Food Fair in Braintree I attended so snapped it up immediately – even going so far as to get the butcher to dig through his box of goodies to find some lovely belly strips for me. The pigs are reared in Battlesbridge, quite close to where I live so there’s that wonderful satisfaction that comes from using local produce and supporting local businesses.

I’ve cooked belly pork many times, but with a piece of pork with such provenance and the luxury of time I wanted to do more than just roast it. Some research online led me to believe that confit was the way to go. So I submerged it in fat, left it to bubble away for three hours and then gave it a further half hour in the pan dry, and the results are tender and juicy. I served it with simple carrots and an apple and onion velouté, which I lifted wholesale from Gordon Ramsay here. It’s a nice alternative to apple sauce, at once highly acidic yet rich to give a piquant edge to the glorious pork fat.

Pork belly confit:

3 pork belly strips

6 juniper berries

1 teaspoon coriander powder

1 teaspoon oregano

1 teaspoon sea salt

250ml sunflower oil (use whatever fat is on hand; goose fat or lard would be excellent)

2 teaspoons rosemary leaves

Pre-heat the oven to 150C. Warm the oil in a pan.

Pound the juniper, coriander, oregano and salt together in a mortar and pestle. Rub this mix into the pork bellies on all sides.

Place the meat into a shallow baking tray and pour over the hot oil. Sprinkle the rosemary over the top.

Cover the tray with foil and put into the oven for three hours. No basting, no peeking!

Take the tray out of the oven and leave to rest for ten minutes. Put the oven up to 200C.

Remove the pork from the fat and put onto a clean baking tray. You will thank yourself later if this is non-stick.

After a further 30 mins remove from the oven. Allow to rest for five minutes before serving.

Tip: reserve the oil from the pork and store in the fridge for another time. My fat is going towards – what else – roast potatoes!

cauliflower coriander courgettes curry food tomato

vegetable tikka masala

Curry is a mythical, hybrid beast in England. Born of curious Raj influences, the modern Indian food apparently bears little resemblance to food eaten in India today. Most of us experience the odd names of the menu and play roulette with what we get, as they appear different from restaurant to restaurant.

After making garam masala and forming it into a tikka paste, I can now make a curry with it. I started by frying a sliced onion, and when softened I added a dessert spoon of paste and allowed to sizzle a little. Then I chucked in some sliced courgette and cauliflower and stirred it round to allow the paste to soak in. Then a litre of stock and tin tomatoes and allowed to simmer until tender and thickened, about 20 minutes. I served with pilau rice, yoghurt raita and piles of fluffy naan.

The best part about dishes like this is despite all the preparation you’re never entirely sure of the exact flavour until it’s in a curry. It had a pleasing spice, the paprika stamping it’s authority at first amped up by the smoky sea salt, then the coriander and cumin tickle and tingle. Then the gentle fire of the chilli remains. Very nice, though I think it would very good with lamb.

Best of all, I have another serving of tikka paste to use up. Yum.

coconut coriander cumin curry food garlic ginger

tikka paste

After garam masala, the next logical step is to make some tikka paste as the basis for a curry.

Into a blender went: my garam masala, a smal piece of ginger, two garlic cloves, a squeeze of tomato puree, a de-seeded green chilli, paprika, a touch of cayenne, touch of cumin, fresh coriander, dessicated coconut, ground almonds, smoked sea salt, and a splash of veg oil to bind it together. Whiz it up, and I’ve got this pungent mix bursting with potential. What will become of it?!

bay coriander cumin curry food nutmeg

garam masala

Or Gary Masala, as I call it in my kitchen (ho ho). It’s a Hindi expression, meaning “hot paste” although I have heard other translations. It’s a blend of ground spices that are the cornerstone of the Indian kitchen.

Contents vary from cook to cook, from family to family; as a clueless Essex boy I have taken a ‘greatest hits’ from others I’ve heard about. I’ve made mine with: cinnamon sticks, cumin seeds, black peppercorns, nutmeg, mustard seeds, bay leaves and coriander seeds (all spices should be used in their whole unground form for maximum aroma). I lay them all out on a baking tray and put them in a mildly warm oven (about 140C) for about 45 mins. This can be done in a dry frying pan but I find the papery dryness from the oven lends itself better to crushing without gaining a scorched taint. The great side-effect of this is your kitchen is filled with a powerful aromatic perfume. Then comes the crushing: I don’t have a spice mill capable of this so it’s down to the good old pestle and mortar for me. I then store it in an old Schwarz spice pot.

The possibilities of this are great – I have a recipe coming up for this later this week…