Butternut squash, pomegranate, feta and mint salad with pine nuts

Now HERE is a salad that will bring a smile to your face on a sunny summer's day, and just in time for the London heatwave. I came across it in an issue of the Sunday Times Style supplement, which I normally never read.
Admittedly this is soooo North London, and the very fact that I am able to waltz into my local supermarket and pick up a pomegranate year round is a serious luxury, and one which I don't take lightly.
That said, the original recipe has said that you can happily replace this one ingredient with another sharp, sweet fruit, like a handful of juicy black cherries is what. I also think slices of orange could work.
It is a fantastic mixture of flavours - deep earthy spices roasted, then tempered with creamy feta and sharp, sweet pomegranate, rounded off with the refreshing mint, with the texture of the squash delivering a lovely big bite. It works well with some nice crusty bread, and I think couscous would be equally nice. It's also a nice counter to the more traditional tomato-cucumber-rocket-leaf. It also looks divine, and when we brought it to a picnic last weekend, it was one of the first things to get finished! Yum, yum, yum.

Butternut squash, pomegranate, feta and mint salad with pine nuts (serves four people)

• 1/2 to 3/4 of a large butternut squash
• 2 tbsp crushed chilli flakes (less if you like it with a milder kick)
• 2 tbsp coriander seeds
• 2 tbsp cumin seeds
• 2 tbsp pine nuts (dry toasted)
• 150g feta cheese
• 1 pomegranate
• Bunch of fresh mint

For the dressing:

• 1/2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
• 1 tbsp lemon juice
• A good pinch of caster sugar
• Leftover pomegranate juice (1-2tbsp, taste as you go)
• A small pinch of cinnamon
• 2 tbsp olive oil

Grinding spices

As always, pre-heat your oven. Something in the region of 200C is good. Next, peel your butternut squash, and chop into semi-circle slices (carefully, squash is very slippery and can be tough to chop!) about 1/2 a cm thick. 

Grind your spices in a pestle and mortar with a decent pinch of rock salt and ground black pepper. The mix doesn't have to be perfectly ground into the same texture, mostly just try to crush the coriander seeds. I sadly don't own a pestle and mortar, so I put whatever I'm crushing into a small plastic bowl, and use a rolling pin. It largely works but the spices tend to fly out everywhere. 

Spread the butternut squash across two roasting trays - you don't want to crowd them too much, so do use two trays, and drizzle with about 1 tbsp oil for each tray. Then divide over your spice mix, and use your hands  to make sure it gets a nice coating. Then put it in the oven for about 25 minutes, and check in every now and then, agitating the tray so it doesn't stick and maybe flipping the squash over so they brown on both sides. 

Meanwhile, you can dry toast your pine nuts. Keep an eye on as they don't sizzle, so you forget about them more easily than you think! You can also start picking your seeds out the pomegranate. The best way to do this, I find, is to slice the fruit cleanly in half, then over a bowl, use your hands to break each half apart, and use your fingers to root out the pockets of seeds. Try to save as much juice as possible for the dressing (and don't wear anything white while you're doing it.)

When the squash is done, remove from the oven. It should look somewhat like the below, and not too dried out. 

Butternut squash, ready to come out of the oven

To make a dressing, the original recipe invites you to use that most North-London of all ingredients, pomegranate molasses. I had no such thing, so into a jar I put the juice of the pomegranate that was reserved in the bowl (crushing seeds with a teaspoon if I needed more juice, around 1 or 2 tbsp), 1/2 tbsp balsamic vinegar,  1 tbsp lemon juice, and a small pinch of cinnamon. To add some sweetness, a pinch or two of caster sugar did the job, then top up with 2 or so tbsps of olive oil, and shake or whisk well.

Next, take your squash, scatter over a large plate, then crumble over the feta, leaving decent sized chunks. Add the pine nuts, and top with the mint and pomegranate. Drizzle dressing over just before service, and enjoy outside in the lovely sunshine (if possible!)

Pomegranate seeds, so pretty

Credit where credit is due: Modified from recipe by Gizzi Erskine in the Sunday Times

Le Cale, La Plage, Blainville-sur-Mer, France

We had good fortune to be able to enjoy a short holiday in Normandy last weekend, complete with a rented car like real grownups, handling the endless French roundabouts, torrential rain and sparse petrol stations but had a really wonderful time. And I have to tell people about this fantastic place we had dinner on Sunday night - La Cale.

No jazz band the night we were there, sadly.

It might just be me, but when you're on holiday in an area that thrives on tourism, choosing a place to eat which isn't "too touristy" (i.e. crap and overpriced) can be quite a big ask. So you go from street to street knowing in your heart that you're in completely the wrong area in the first place but resolutely refusing to settle for Irish pub food in the medieval town of St. Malo, for instance, so you try to pick something that fits half way between. La Cale, on the other hand, is quite a distance from anything flashy, is anything but easy to find and doesn't really feel all that tourist-targeted, although I daresay they get a few gushing expats and Brits like myself who just adore the whole set up. For starters, its address (on the business card we were given, at least) was "La Cale, la plage". It's just a shack, location: 'the beach'. No number or anything - this is the location on streetview, just down that long lane. Thank god for sat navs is all I'll say, we ended up following a sign that said "La mer, 0.2k" There's no set opening hours either, so you have to just show up and hope it's open, not too full, and not too empty. However, we were in luck! We ran from our car in the torrential rain and burst through the door and sat down at one of the rickety benches, grateful for the roaring fire (good old summer holidays). 
Taking in the whole atmosphere of the place was a great laugh - tonnes of crooked paintings on the wall, mostly boats and nude women, plus a cracked hair drier, all with a full view of the tide. We ordered a drink - local cider! - and watched the swell of the waves in the storm which were really just a scant distance away.

We both ordered moules frites (mussels and chips), not really knowing much about how they'd come, just that there'd be moules and there'd be frites. And by god, there was. Our table number, painted on a stone, was roared from outside the kitchen, and the next thing a HUGE, utterly huge, steel pot was slammed onto our table with a ladle next to it. Beautiful little mussels, swimming in cream, cider, parsley, and who knows what else, they were beyond delicious.

The frites that accompanied the meal were some of the best chips I've ever had, golden and crispy on the outside, but soft and fluffy enough to make eating them alarmingly easy. Combine with a side of oily homemade mayonnaise and we were in heaven.

Such delicious chips! 

Although we were fit to burst after we threw in the towel on the mussels, the boyfriend decided he'd be mad not to order a galette, so went for 'Galette Pere de Voision', recalled from memory but the name loosely meant neighbour's father, which a French pancake with calvados, butter and sugar. It was beyond delicious, the sharpness of the apple brandy combined with the richness of the butter and the carmelisation brought on by the copious amounts of sugar, was gorgeous. And despite knowing I'd probably regret it, I decided to snaffle a few mouthfuls from his plate, even though I felt like I had eaten 60,000 mussels already.
What I liked about La Cale was that although it's probably reasonably easy to do 'rustic France for tourists' style dining or whatever, this place felt like the real deal. The entire experience was utterly practical (want a napkin? BAM a roll of kitchen roll on your table.). The staff were very laid back, and friendly. And the location was to die for. I can't even imagine how great it would be to enjoy such fresh, well-cooked and authentically local food outside looking at the sea, without the driving rain (offset, mind, by the roaring fire - all my clothes stank of woodsmoke when we got home). The outside seating consisted of tables made out of wire-reels, from what I could tell, on a sand-coated wooden deck and looked equally practical and endearing. Imagine, with the sunset, and a warm breeze...sigh.

Hooray for summer holidays! 

I'll not be going back to Normandy for some time, with the whole car rental and distance to travel needed, it's a bit of a mission, but I'll probably remember La Cale as one of the highlights of the entire holiday. Wonderful.


La Cale, La Plage, 50560 Blainville-sur-Mer, France, +33 2 33 47 22 72 ‎

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The Meatwagon, Peckham Rye, SE22

The Meatwagon, famous largely for last year's pop up restaurant The Meateasy, is back. Their van got nicked last year, so they've decked out an American ambulance with a grill, of course. 'Guerilla dining' is how they refer to themselves, and they kind of operate around this nothing-wasted-on-frills-so-enjoy-top-quality-food-instead run down shabby vibe, which is kind of in vogue at the moment and certainly seems to be permeating a lot of London's most beloved trendy restaurants, Spuntino and Polpetto being two that come to mind. A burger van, basically. 
I love a good burger, so I travelled to Peckham, where the Meatwagon started out. (Peckham! You have to get a train from Victoria! I'm sorry, I know it's a bit pathetic, but I'm a North London girl for the time being.) Following the invitation of a friend, we went have a drink in the Rye, and enjoy a burger from the new incarnation of the Meatwagon which was stationed outside, grills-a-sizzling, Kasabian-a-blaring all in that nice twilighty summer evening glow. And a goooorgeous smell. 

So was it worth it? Pretty much. I opted for a cheeseburger, £6.00, which was brought to my pub table. It was thick, sticky-cheese encrusted wedge of happiness, served in a lovely glazed bun which absorbed the juices and flavours, without turning into a sog fest. Proper runny burger cheese as well, none of this 'mature cheddar' rubbish. It needed the addition of ketchup, as I'm a bit of a ketchup fiend, but apart from that it ticked all my boxes. Very rough round the edges, with grease and pink juice dripping down onto the paper plate with each awesome bite, gloriously disgusting, onions everywhere. It made a bloody mess and was a bit tricky to eat, but somehow I managed, hah.

Others I was with went for the bacon burger, £7.00, which also went down extremely well. My boyfriend chose the 'Dead Hippy' burger, a kind of Big-Mac-esque deal with the main interest point being that the meat was fried in mustard. Does anyone else even do that? It was the first I've ever heard of such a thing. In any case it was wonderfully spicy without being overwhelmingly mustard-y, (although he did prefer mine, in the end.)

Phwoar, meatyyyy.

Although staff seemed surprised and a little perplexed when one of our party asked for no cheese on his bacon burger (causes him migraines), and we could have done with some napkins, overall it was a really chilled out, enjoyable experience, and a damn good meal. I desperately want to sink my teeth into another one. 
The Hawksmoore it ain't, and their burgers aren't pretty, but oh yes, I'm pretty delighted I did make the trek dahn sarf to Peckham to give them a whirl. Do make every effort to catch the wagon if it's nearby, they seem to be doing the rounds nowadays - or make an evening of it like we did. 


The Meatwagon, all over London, info@themeatwagon.co.uk 

Vegetarian tagine with couscous and hummus

Roasted vegetables are one of those unique ingredients in a meal I find - they drag even the most bland or plastic 'panini' or salad right up into the higher echelons in one move. So what happens when you take a holy combo of red pepper, parsnip, carrot and red onion, roast them until they're sweet and caramelized, put them in rich, heavily spiced tomato sauce and serve with couscous and hummus? Good things happen, that's what.
 So: technically it's a vegetarian tagine. Extremely straightforward and brilliant for leftovers, plus (of course) is a seriously tasty meal. It's also low-cal if you care about that sort of thing.  It's a very straightforward tagine, doable by anyone. Cheap too, so what's not to love? (Apart from the fact it isn't terribly beautiful.

Admittedly, this isn't exactly seasonal, but do you have any idea how many times I've been caught in a moody downpour this month on my way back from work? This is ideal grumpy-comfort food, simple to make, warming from the inside out without the guilt of a pizza binge. The opposite, even - the original recipe actually informs me that this gives you your entire five-a-day in one handy meal.
Perfect for rubbish rainy June evenings, Sunday nights or whenever you want something hot and comforting without lots of effort. This is also pretty great if you're trying to serve a large group of people, given it's basically a quick stew. And feel free to replace the veggies - sweet potato in place of peppers would be nice, or courgette (although do adjust roasting times.) This would also be a wonderful side-dish for any Moroccan spread a treat, so if you feel like being extra creative, serve with falafel, lamb, pitta, salad, mint yoghurt, chicken in harissa, coriander-spiced meatballs... the list is endless. 

Vegetarian tagine with couscous and hummus (serves 2 with leftovers)

• 2 carrots
• 2 small parsnips
• 2 small red onions or 1 big one
• 1 red pepper
• 1/2 green pepper
• Handful of dried apricots (I chop mine, you can leave them whole if you prefer - you can see them in the bag in the photo)
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 400g tin of chopped tomatoes
• 1 tbsp cumin
• 1 tsp paprika
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp chilli powder/flakes
• 2 tsp honey

Plus 150g couscous and pot of hummus, to serve.

It's a very simple recipe. Chop up all your veg into even sized chunks, spread across two or three roasting tins. You can put them all in one, if you like, but crowded veg won't roast properly.  Leave the onion in about 8 wedges, though - not too small.Drizzle with a little olive oil, ensure evenly coated (try not to disturb the red onions from their wedge-shape, I find they dry out terribly when separated into thin strips.) Put into oven on a high heat, around 200C, for 20 to 30 minutes, taking it out to shake the veg and check on it occasionally. When the veg is roasted to your liking, remove from the oven.
Next, put a tablespoon of oil in a sauce pan, and add your spices. The amount I use is a lot higher than the recipe suggests, but I find it's far tastier this way - nothing worse than an under-seasoned meal! Stir the spices into a paste on a medium heat, until very fragrant, then add your apricots, honey and then your tomatoes. Refill half the tin with water, give a shake, and add to the tomatoes and spices mix on the stove. Turn  up to the boil, then reduce to a simmer until it thickens to your liking.

Adding the veg to the thickened spicy tomato sauce

Around this point, you can make some couscous. Everyone has their own recipe, but for me I like to fry a knob of butter in a pan, add two crushed cloves of garlic for a few moments, then add a shake of cumin or paprika. Then add 120g of couscous (for two) with 150ml of water, and crumble in half a vegetable stock cube. Bring to the boil, then cover with a lid and take off the heat. Fluff with a fork five minutes later, after the water has been absorbed. When the tomato sauce has thickened enough, add your roasted vegetables until heated through, then serve and enjoy! If you have a sprig of coriander floating about, it probably wouldn't go amiss, for garnishing purposes either. 


Credit where credit is due: BBC Good Food