Not Cutting The Mustard

I recently attempted a dessert with results I'm not proud of. I'd spent a good week at least, just thinking about this one dish and like my last relationship, it was a huge failure on my part. Individually, the components worked out fine, however once combined well.. Let me assure you that it wasn't something I'm looking to repeat any time soon; so much so, that my normally trigger happy shutter finger immediately pounded the delete button in a panicked frenzy as soon as any evidence of its existence appeared. I suppose it's back to the drawing board, although I'm not quite sure how to fix this tiny little calamity.

I'm not really the type to pack up and move on. I like to dwell, dwell on things until that one thing is all I can think about and I suddenly feel as if I'm going nuts. I know where I went wrong but I don't know how to make things better and it's so frustrating. The answer this time, seems to be just out of my reach.

Peering into the glass that's half full fortunately reveals a recipe for mustard shortbread which I've concocted using the ratio of flour to rice flour in a recipe from one of Darina Allen's more recent publications: "Ballymaloe Cookery Course". It's rich with butter, wonderfully textural and nice with a cup of tea. My Mum says it reminds her of a popular Chinese biscuit which is slightly sweet yet savoury and even my Dad likes it which is saying something. Yay!


Mustard Shortbread

30 g yellow mustard seeds
120 g flour
30 g rice flour
40 castor sugar
4 g salt
90 g unsalted butter, chopped

Pound mustard seeds using a mortar and pestle until mostly fine.
Combine in a bowl with remaining ingredients.
Rub butter in with fingertips and press into a ball.
Roll out to 3-4 mm thickness and cut into desired shapes.
Place straight onto a tray. Alternatively, press into the bottom of a square pan in an even layer.
Dock with a fork at this stage if you wish.
Bake at 140ºC for 20 minutes on the bottom rack.
Remove from oven and cut into desired shapes while still hot if you haven't already done so.
Cool on tray.

Beetroot Relished

­I would like to give my solemn thanks to the single beetroot that died in the making of this very post. It was the only seedling that survived through the many trials and tribulations of summer. I remember when it was just a seed and pushing it gently into its very own jiffy peat pellet which, at the time, was purely for novel reasons. And then at some stage I placed it outside along the grey retaining wall to fend for itself out in the open. It was bullied by a tiny little caterpillar once but I took care of that! They grow up fast don't they? Of course time just seems to fly past. You think it will never happen to you and then one day you wake up and everything changes. My dear beetroot passed away on January 2nd, 2010, weighing 450 grams. It will be with us forever in our hearts and stomachs. May we never forget the joy that it has brought to the kitchen table.

Roast Beet Relish

350 g beetroot, peeled and diced (approx. 1 cm cubes)
200 g cherry tomatoes, halved (keeping stalks and stems)
6 g garlic, crushed (3 cloves)
30 g olive oil
5 g rosemary sprigs
3 g salt
35 g brown onion, sliced
85 castor sugar
50 g white wine vinegar
20 g balsamic vinegar
12 g horseradish cream

Heat the oven to 180ºC.
Toss beetroot, tomatoes, garlic, oil, rosemary, salt and any tomato stalks and stems you have, together in a medium bowl.
Transfer to a thick-bottomed tray and spread out evenly.
Roast for 20 minutes.
Sprinkle the sliced onion over the top and give it a good toss.
Return to the oven for a further 15 minutes.
While that's cooking, combine sugar, vinegars and horseradish in a small pot and heat just enough to dissolve the sugar.
Discard tomato sprigs, stems and rosemary.
Pack beetroot into 2 x 300 g jars (sterilised of course).
Pour over vinegar and seal while hot.
Cool to room temperature then refrigerate for 1 week before opening.

Chocolate Pepper Cookies For Comfort

There's a lonely little sunflower poking its bright bronze head out from amongst the tangle of budding tomatoes. It's new here and the pumpkin vines are already trying to drag it down. It's a tough cookie though. I can sense that it will put up a good fight and ride out the hard times ahead with as much strength and courage as it can muster. It may be the only one of its kind but that is not to say that it faces each day alone and friendless.

A dense but relatively neatly trimmed rosemary bush sits to its left and on its right stands a sprightly young black elder sapling. Together all three take turns in providing shade for their companions throughout the scorchingly hot days, the generous display of flowers attesting to their thorough enjoyment of summer rays. Try as we might to avoid it however, things we love in life often leave us. Perhaps it's a lover who is going away (for what seems like a lifetime) until spring or maybe it's a case of two friends who are simply growing apart.

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Sunflowers are an interesting species. They're used to produce margarine, latex, biodiesel and something akin to peanut butter called sunbutter. The real advantage they have over other plants though, is their natural ability to cleanse the soil (called phytoremediation), ridding it of toxic substances including arsenic, lead and uranium.

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I remember travelling to the sprawling city of Cuenca during my last trip to Spain. Famous for las casas colgadas, the houses hang perilously from the cliffs of Huecar's Gorge that divides the old city from the new. It's funny how I find beauty in strange places sometimes. It wasn't the architectural balancing act or the stark juxtaposition of what appeared to be two vastly different eras rolled into one. What struck me the most was sitting alone on the train returning to Madrid and being surrounded by a never ending field of sunflowers. It was incredibly surreal. They rolled over the hills and stood bravely against the rocky outcrops that bordered the railway tracks. Sitting quietly, staring out of the window and letting the sight wash over me was an experience in itself and it felt so comforting, like I was finally home.

This cookie recipe comes from a place far south, across the Strait of Gibraltar. Adapted from South Africa (Where Flavor Was Born: Recipes and Culinary Travels Along the Indian Ocean Spice Route, Andreas Viestad), these chocolate cookies come out rich and dense like a brownie, with bursts of melted chocolate studded throughout and a potent black pepper kick. For SHF #61 - Sweet Comforts this is a recipe for chocolate pepper cookies - soothing, spicy and awesome with a glass of milk.

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Chocolate Pepper Cookies

(adapted from Where Flavor Was Born, Andreas Viestad)

450 g bittersweet chocolate (70% cocoa), coarsely chopped

170 g unsalted butter, chopped

100 g raw cane sugar

2 eggs (110 g)

250 g flour

4 g baking soda

3 g salt

12 g black peppercorns, coarsely ground

Melt half chocolate over a bain marie, set aside to cool to blood temperature.

Cream butter and sugar in an electric mixer with paddle attachment.

Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition until thick.

Sift flour, baking soda and salt into a bowl.

Add to butter and mix thoroughly.

Slowly beat in melted chocolate.

Stir though remaining chocolate and pepper.

Cover and refrigerate dough for 1 hour.

Place heaped tablespoons of dough onto a lined baking sheet (for a smoother cookie roll the dough into balls and flatten them slightly with your palm).

Bake for 12 minutes at 180ºC "until crisp and crunchy on the outside but still somewhat chewy inside".

Allow the cookies to cool on the tray for a minute or two before transferring to a wire rack.

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