The late Robin Cook said of chicken tikka masala that it is ‘now Britain’s true national dish, not only because it is popular, but it is the perfect illustration of the way Britain absorbs and adapts external influences.’ 

Britain’s love affair with Asian food is indeed quite remarkable and is probably the most heartening example of ‘multiculturalism’ in action.

Yet, unlike domestic cooking, the dominant method of consumption involves no preparation at home; we ‘go out for a curry’ and ‘order in a Chinese.’ Moreover, modern British variants tend to be dominated by quite a narrow range of regional cuisines: famously 90% of Indian restaurants are Bangladeshi-run, while Cantonese is the dominant form of Chinese. 

This has led to an unfortunate homogenization of Asian cuisine with unvarying menus prevailing across the country.

Often it seems the exotic nature of the ingredients intimidate aspiring chefs who generally turn to more immediately accessible French and Italian cuisines for inspiration. For my own part, I find Chinese supermarkets more of a curiosity than a place to purchase, even if there seems to be great value.

In her]]> Frank Armstrong 2010-03-11T10:35:17+00:00 http://www.spectator.co.uk/scoff/blog/5830628/tortionataor-torta-di-lodi.thtml

My Italian grandmother – known to us all as 'Nonna' – used to make a delicious almond shortcake called Torta di Lodi. She would always have one ready for visitors and grandchildren. It's a speciality of the eponymous town, on the banks of the river Adda in Lombardy, south of Milan. The cake itself is both crunchy and buttery, served broken into chunks – it's too crumbly to slice. It is sold in all the good pasticcerie in Lodi. The beauty of it is that it is really easy to make, especially if you have a food processor.

Tortionata or Torta di Lodi

200g plain flour

200g whole unpeeled almonds

200g butter

150g sugar

1 egg yolk

grated rind ½ lemon

Place all the ingredients in a processor and blitz till it forms a loose dough.

Press into a buttered 25cm cake tin. With the back of a fork, form a pretty pattern of]]> Chris Foulkes 2010-03-10T11:09:03+00:00 http://www.spectator.co.uk/scoff/blog/5828163/oil-on-canvas.thtml

I want to tell you about cooking for George. G and I have known each other since we were four years old. I can remember him trapping his fingers in the hinges of a door during a game of hide-and-seek at the old mill where my family lived, and his whole hand being consequently bandaged with great pomp and ceremony; sulking on the day of the Grand National when during a family sweepstake I pulled the name of the horse he wished to back from the hat; I remember him breaking his arm and drawing with his left hand - still an hundred times better than anything I could do - and making an origami swan one New Year’s Eve when, as teenagers, my sister and I suddenly felt shy of him and his brother, who were growing handsomer by the minute.

We’ve just returned from our eighth trip to India, where we love the food and have made dear friends among the people. The combination, however, can be hazardous to the unwary.

One friend in Mumbai explained that there is such a strong tradition of hospitality in India that people will give their last chapati to a guest, and will often not eat at all until their guests have had their fill.

In another Hyderabadi family which has adopted my partner and me as Uncle and Aunty, the first thing our beaming plump host did, as we sat cross-legged around a spotless cloth on the floor, was to unexpectedly flip a fried egg onto each of our plates. My partner ate both. There followed a succession of bowls of food: mutton, chicken curries, pieces of fish (pomfret) fried in a spicy batter, pickles, dhal, aubergine, okra, heaps of hot chapatis, sliced raw vegetables (carrot, cucumber, tomato) for ‘salad’, brought to us by the smiling women of the family, constantly refilling our plates. When we had managed to convince our host that we would collapse if we ate another bite, we were]]> Lilian Lopez 2010-02-25T11:33:02+00:00 http://www.spectator.co.uk/scoff/blog/5790773/a-country-exile.thtml It was September; pear and peach trees bowing, sunflowers blossoming, fig season in full swing, and the air clean and earthy. Cecinibbi promised convalescence and rebirth to the weary wayfarer. Having dispensed of a summer eating, drinking and cavorting, pre-recession, between Dublin, London and the sumptuous meat-garden of Buenos Aires, I had resolved to visit Italy. Cecinibbi, a Lilliputian hamlet nestled amid the textured undulations of Umbria, is characterised by olive groves, fruit trees and grapevines. There, the farmers, hunters, builders and bee-keepers are burnished and leather-skinned from decades of self-sufficiency. Its walls emanate aromas of stone-baked doughs, spit-roasting fowl and crackling garlic.

With tannic headache, a lingering fear of gout and the riot of twenty cigarettes stampeding in my lungs, I arrived, with my parents, at Rome Ciampino airport. A stalwart friend, Michael, had come to meet us; the septuagenarian engineer had eschewed fashionable London and salvaged the financial debris of numerous marriages, retiring to a farmhouse nearby. The house was roomy and modern, and had a similar cadence to our retreat. It was a sanctuary of art, literature, vegetable-growing, cooking and entertaining.
 
In his usual manner of ungoverned kindness, Michael had motored]]> Maggie Armstrong 2010-02-22T11:27:11+00:00 http://www.spectator.co.uk/scoff/blog/5785043/a-divine-recipe-for-halfterm-weekend.thtml

Chocolate fridge cake (Florentine style)

By Sam Stern 

This could be the richest, easiest chocolate cake ever. You don’t  need to cook it. And it tastes a bit like posh Florentines. You can customise it to suit your tastes. Use all biscuit and raisins instead of the other dried fruit.  Or vary the fruit and nuts or type of biscuit - try Rich Tea or HobNob. The mix of milk and dark Divine chocolate makes for just the right base for this decadent tea-party special.  

200g  Divine milk chocolate
100g  Divine dark chocolate
Finely grated rind of half an orange
4 tablespoons golden syrup
175g butter
175g digestive biscuits
125g raisins
100g glace cherries, washed, dried, quartered
75g dried apricots, finely chopped
Handful of flaked almonds or chopped hazelnuts (optional)

Break the chocolate up. Tip it into a heatproof bowl. Add the rind, syrup and butter.  Sit over a pan of gently simmering water, keeping the base of the bowl clear of the water.  Leave to melt slowly, without stirring. Put the biscuits in]]> 2010-02-19T11:41:23+00:00 http://www.spectator.co.uk/scoff/blog/5777773/apple-and-walnut-crpes-with-clotted-cream.thtml

Apple and Walnut Crêpes with Clotted Cream

Serves 4 
 

Crêpes are always popular. Making wafer thin crêpes can be a little tricky to begin with, but it will get easier. The key is to have a good non-stick pan. They are not expensive and it’s worth investing in one.  

Crêpe Mix

300ml milk

1 medium egg

1 egg yolk

a pinch of salt

100g plain flour 

Apple and walnut filling

1 large Bramley apple

4 Granny Smith apples

60g toasted flaked walnuts

½ zest and juice unwaxed lemon

20g unsalted butter

40g castor sugar

200g thick clotted cream 

Caramel Sauce

100g castor sugar

200ml double cream 

This insight can be applied to how particular nations or cultures relate to their food. Thus, we might observe how the prudish sexuality of Victorian Britain coincided with the joyless, industrialised food of that time; or, how experimentation with food among the aristocracy in eighteenth-century France was accompanied by sexual proclivity.

What do you find, then, when you merge the buttock-enhanced exuberance of Brazilian sexuality with the eccentric fetishes that seem to prevail in Japan? Or, correspondingly, what emerges if the intricate sushi and ‘poisonous-in-the-wrong-hands’ Blow Fish of Japanese cuisine is seduced by the tropical fruits and laid-back barbecues of Brazil?

I hoped to discover the nature of this crossbreed when I dined at Sushinho, a Japanese-Brazilian restaurant on the King’s Road which derives its identity from the million and a half ethnic Japanese now living in Brazil.

On arrival one is struck by the sharp lines and chrome finish, a style readily identifiable with the contemporary Japanese restaurant. The convivial benches of a Brazilian churrasco are nowhere to be found, but, thankfully, the dim lighting lessens the impact of the ultra-modern, and]]> Frank Armstrong 2010-02-15T11:03:58+00:00