Chicken liver mousse

13 November 2020

It used to be perfect for apéro, and since those days are on pause I’ve started making it regularly, for no particular reason. Every few weeks recently, so that it can be there for a quick lunch or ‘Abendbrot’ dinner (German for bread and cheese and cold cuts, in this house usually also with soup or salad), or even breakfast. It has become part of a rhythm, like my weekly bread.

Chicken livers in any form is one of my favourite things, and this has become indispensable. It’s always devoured and often fought over in this house. So easy to make (thirty minutes) and completely addictive.

Chicken liver mousse
This is very similar to my chicken liver terrine from ten years ago, but processed into an unctuous mousse. So in the absence of a food processor, the livers can be chopped by hand.

600g chicken livers
300g butter + Olive oil
3 shallots or small onions, thinly chopped
Fresh sage and/or thyme
Brandy and port (or marsala or Madeira, whatever is open and on hand)
Salt and pepper

‘Trim’ the chicken livers, meaning cut off the sinew and carefully remove any green (it’s the gallbladder which is bitter).

Melt the butter in small saucepan, reserving a large tablespoon to cook the livers. Once melted, remove from the heat and set aside.

Meanwhile, heat a large frying pan with the reserved tablespoon of butter and a little olive oil. Add the shallots (or onions) and cook gently until translucent and just barely starting to brown.

Turn up the heat and add the livers, drained of any excess liquid (otherwise they will stew rather than brown). Cook over high heat, turning over once, for 3 to 4 minutes, until starting to brown.

Lower the heat to medium, add the herbs and give them a swirl in the pan to meld the aromas. Now add a few glugs of alcohol, about two tablespoons each of the sherry and marsala (or port).

Continue cooking for a minute or two until the livers are just cooked through (cut one open to check — it should be pink).

Transfer the livers and onions (take out the herbs) to a food processor. Process until blended. Add about 250g of the melted butter gradually to whip up a mousse. [=> Reserve just enough butter to cover the mousse with a layer of fat at the end.] Taste. Season generously with salt and pepper. Taste again.

Transfer the mousse to a bowl or terrine, cover with the remaining melted butter. Let cool before transferring to the fridge for a few hours at least.

The mousse keeps for a couple of days.

Autumn soups

9 November 2020

Occasionally (or, possibly, fairly often), I binge-buy vegetables. Last Wednesday was such a day. Whatever the reason — (ir)rational distractedness? — I apparently ordered, from our London supplier of local British produce Farm Direct, carrots, cauliflowers, broccoli, leeks, turnips, kohlrabi, pumpkin, celery stalks and root, onions, peppers… I may be forgetting something? — Mushrooms!

I rarely buy food with the intention of a specific recipe. Usually, especially with produce, it’s what looks good and is available, and since the season has changed there was exaggerated enthusiasm about all the new things. Which doesn’t solve the problem of what I will be doing with all of this, but an easy guess would be: soup!

Here are a few autumnal soups that I like going back to, over the years.

Creamy spiced lentil soup

A soup in shades of green

Spicy lentil and red kuri squash soup

Parsnip and butternut squash soup with sage

Soba noodle soup with meatballs and bok choy

Cream of cauliflower soup with salmon roe

Five-ingredient pumpkin leek soup

Halloween charcoal cookies

30 October 2020

There may not be much of a Halloween celebration this year, and I nearly didn’t find pumpkins to carve as our corner grocer and prime purveyor sold out two days ago (to quote her: ‘I don’t know, I think people must just be so bored’), but I did manage to make these black cookies, naturally coloured with activated charcoal powder, and that makes me happy.

Charcoal crackers are quite common here in Britain, often to be paired with cheese, which gave me the idea for the colouring. I adapted a recipe from our home cookie bible, Alice Medrich‘s Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy — while I’m not much of a cookie baker, the children use it all the time. The vanilla cream cheese sandwich version of the sugar cookies proved to be the perfect recipe, to which I simply added a hefty dose of charcoal powder to achieve the deepest black.

Charcoal cookies after a sugar cookie recipe from Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy by Alice Medrich

380g (3 cups) flour
2 tsps cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
225g (1 stick) butter, softened
300g (1 1/2 cups) sugar
2 Tbsps milk
1 Tbsp pure vanilla extract
3 Tbsps activated charcoal powder

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, and salt, and mix thoroughly.

In a large bowl, beat the softened butter with the sugar until smooth and creamy. Beat in the milk, vanilla, and charcoal powder. Add the flour mixture and stir to thoroughly combine.

Divide the dough into 2 pieces, and roll each onto parchment paper into thin sheets approximately 1/3 cm (1/8 inch) thick. Place in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours or overnight.

Make a stencil for a bat (or rat, or cat, or any other shape).

Preheat the oven to 175°C (350°F).

Cut out the dough along the stencil shapes, using up the leftover bits and pieces as you go by kneading them together just enough to form a smooth dough and rolling it out again.

Transfer the shapes to a baking sheet lightly dusted with sugar and bake for 10 to 12 minutes.

Pear and Stilton elevenses

23 October 2020

October 23. Cycling through the park speckled golden with leaves and sunlight this morning is a memory for today. Autumn at its most perfect. And already the sky is overcast, dulled and dreary, a few drops even. In London the weather changes five times a day, it’s about catching the rays.

This snack, which may just as well lengthen the sun or brighten a rainy morning, is my favourite thing in autumn.

Pear and Stilton elevenses

A perfectly ripe pear, peeled or not
Stilton

Sourdough biscotti

20 October 2020

This idea sprouted a few months ago as an attempt to use up some of the ‘discard’ from my sourdough starter — in my experience the biggest challenge of a novice sourdough baker. (The ‘discard’ is the part of the sourdough mother that is not used for baking but needs to be cast aside so that fresh flour and water can ‘feed’ the mother.)

It’s now become a joke that everyone started baking sourdough during ‘lockdown.’ I am guilty as charged, and, like everyone else, faced the existential stress, for my fledgeling sourdough mother, of finding flour in April (when, naggingly, every shop was laden with the most beautiful breads) — I even had bags shipped directly from a mill, until that source dried up too. Having (re)embarked on this adventure I was quite resolved to follow through, unlike an attempt from six years ago which miserably petered out.

I am happy to report that my starter has survived, and thrived, since March. It crossed the channel and hung out in Brittany with us for a month, it came back with us, it has even had babies who, as far as I know (and hope!), are still alive and kicking in the neighbourhood. I will write more about my experiences with sourdough, but today I am baking these biscotti. It’s not exactly starting backwards, since the trickiest aspect of sourdough has been to find the rhythm of the starter, the bread, and especially the discard, without ever having to throw any away. It is safest to embark on a sourdough adventure with a few of these ‘discard’ recipes under one’s hat.

After some attempts and fine-tuning, these biscotti have just the right texture — the ideal balance of a hard crisp outside but ever so slightly yielding inside.

Sourdough biscotti
NOTE: This recipe should be used as a template, with many possible variations in the combination of nuts, fruits, and spices.
I particularly like walnuts/dried figs/fennel seeds and also almonds/anise, and I’m sure pistachio/apricot would also be great.

40g olive oil or melted butter
3 eggs
120g sugar
Zest from one lemon
50g sourdough discard
350g white spelt flour
Generous pinch of salt
This part of the recipe is the variable:
75g nuts (coarsely chopped almonds or walnuts, hazelnuts, pistachios, …)
50g dried fruit if using (dried figs, apricots, …)
1 Tbsp fennel or anise seeds

Method:
In a smallish bowl, whisk together the olive oil (or cooled melted butter) with the eggs, sugar, and lemon zest. Stir in the sourdough discard.

In another, larger bowl, mix the flour with the nuts and fruit, spices, and salt. Create a well and pour in the liquid ingredients. With a wooden spoon, using circular movements, mix to combine thoroughly. Finish by hand, knead a few times, and shape into a flat ball. => If the dough is so sticky that it seems impossible to gather into a ball, add a little flour.

Cover with a tea towel and let the dough rest at room temperature for at least 2 hours, until it feels risen and puffy (it doesn’t need to have noticeably increased in size).

Line a baking sheet with a piece of parchment paper. Shape the dough into two flat oblong logs and leave them to rest, covered, for another 30 min or so, until slightly puffy.

Preheat the oven to 200°C.

Bake the logs for 25 minutes at 200°C, then lower the temperature to 175°C and bake for another 15 minutes. The logs should be slightly coloured.

Remove from the oven, let cool enough to be able to handle, slice the logs, and return the slices to the oven for 5 to 10 minutes on one side depending on how thin you’ve cut them. Turn the biscotti over and cook for another 4 to 5 minutes => watch and check and bake to the desired colour.

The biscotti keep well in a sealed jar for a week.