Vivek Singh’s king prawns in coconut curry sauce
Chingri malai curry is one of the all-time favourite Bengali dishes, reserved for very special guests, big celebratory dinners, weddings and so on. I remember this dish once served inside a green tender coconut. As a child, I was told the term malai refers to the creamy flesh inside the green coconut that can be enjoyed while tucking into the coconut. It made sense then and it makes sense now as this is how most people relate to the dish. While travelling and working as a chef, it surprised me no end to see the similarity between this dish and a Malaysian laksa, and I wonder if the Bengali name originated from Malaya, as it is known in India. The period between Dussehra (Durga Puja in Bengal) and Diwali (Kali Puja in Bengal) is a period described as Bijoya or victory. During Bijoya, people visit family, friends and their entire social circle, taking sweets, exchanging gifts and eating together. Forgetting to visit someone over Bijoya is the Bengali equivalent of dropping someone from your Christmas card list! One of my earliest food memories is eating this delicious prawn curry at a Bijoya dinner.
Serves 2
freshwater prawns 400g (the largest size you can find), peeled and deveined (peeled weight)
ground turmeric 1 tsp
salt 1 tsp
vegetable oil 3 tbsp
bay leaves 2
red onions 3 (around 275g), blended to a fine paste
ground cumin 1 tbsp
ginger and garlic paste 2 tbsp
green chillies 2, slit lengthways
shellfish stock 250ml
coconut milk 75ml
sugar ½ tsp (optional)
green cardamom pods 4-5, ground
coriander 1 tbsp, chopped
lime juice of ½
Marinate the prawns with half the turmeric and half the salt for 5 minutes.
Heat half the oil in a pan and add the bay leaves and onion paste and sauté over a medium heat for 10-12 minutes until very light brown.
Meanwhile, heat the remaining oil in a non-stick frying pan and sear the prawns briefly for 1-2 minutes, turning them to sear on each side, then set aside.
Mix the remaining turmeric, the ground cumin and ginger-garlic paste in 75ml water.
Add to the sautéed onions, reduce the heat and cook for 2-3 minutes, stirring regularly. Add the remaining salt, green chillies and prawns and stir for 1 minute. Add the stock, then mix in the coconut milk and simmer for 2-3 minutes or just until the prawns are cooked, adding a little more stock if necessary. Correct the seasoning with salt and sugar and sprinkle on the ground cardamom and chopped coriander. Squeeze over the lime juice and serve with rice.
This is best eaten with fresh boiled basmati rice, enriched with a tablespoon of ghee or cold salted butter, a pinch of smoked sea salt and freshly cracked pepper. Add the butter, salt and pepper to hot steaming rice, mix and serve immediately.
From Spice at Home by Vivek Singh (Absolute Press, £25)
Jane Grigson’s brandade de morue
Brandade has had its devotees ever since Grimod de la Reynière “discovered” it in Languedoc and wrote down the recipe at the end of the 18th century. He concealed the name of the place where he first ate this cream of salt cod, which has led to much pleasurable but fruitless speculation. (Like Lobster à l’américaine – or armoricaine.) Was the place Béziers, the ancient cathedral town between Sète and Narbonne? Or was it Nîmes, where one cooked food shop at least sends brandade to customers all over France? To add to the mystery, an almost identical dish, baccalà mantecato, is a great speciality of Venice and the Veneto.
Brandade is a fascinating dish to make. Poor-looking greyish-white boards of dried cod are transformed into richness by the gentle attentions of olive oil and cream. Less gentle are the attentions of the cook, who must keep up a steady crushing of the ingredients, combined with a shaking of the pot (the name is said – by Grimrod de la Reynière – to come from brandir, an old verb meaning to stir, shake and crush with energy, for a long time: one may wonder on what other occasion it might have been employed). Such a slow transformation of substances may sound tiresome in a busy life, but it has its own relaxed pleasure, and a delicious result. A consolation – fruit is the only possible follow-up. The modern recipe has changed little. I use cream, you may prefer to use rich milk and some butter instead.
Serves 6
dried salt cod ¾-1kg
olive oil 500-600ml
garlic 1 large clove, crushed, finely chopped (optional)
single cream or milk and cream 300ml
salt, pepper, nutmeg, lemon juice
bread fried in olive oil 18 small triangles
parsley 2 tbsp, finely chopped
Soak the cod and cook it in the usual way. Remove and discard all bony parts, but keep the skin. This is often discarded, but as Ali-Bab remarks in his Gastronomie Pratique, it helps the flavour and the consistency of the brandade, being gelatinous.
Put the pieces of cod, and skin if used, into a stoneware or enamelled iron casserole, over a low, steady heat (with a heat-diffuser mat underneath, if gas is used). Have the oil, and garlic if used, together in a small pan, keeping warm. The same goes for the cream or milk and cream. Pour a little oil on to the cod, and crush the two together with a wooden spoon, moving the pan about. Then add some cream, or milk and cream. Continue in this way until oil and cream are finished. You should now have a coherent creamy mass, very white if you have omitted the skin, white flecked with grey if you haven’t. Season with salt, pepper, nutmeg and lemon juice.
The thing to avoid is overheating, which could cause the brandade to separate. Should this happen, take the unorthodox step of putting the mixture into a bowl and beating it vigorously and, if possible, electrically. Or use the processor.
Serve either in the cooking dish (though this will probably be too large), or on a plainly coloured earthenware dish. Dip one corner of each triangle of fried bread first in the brandade, and then into the parsley, before tucking the croûton into the edge of the brandade as a garnish.
From Jane Grigson’s Fish Book by Jane Grigson (Penguin, £16.99)
Mitch Tonks’s scallops Seahorse-style
At my restaurant the Seahorse, we do serve some local meat, but in the main it is known for its seafood, which is cooked over charcoal or just prepared simply according to the seasons and served unadorned, so our guests can appreciate the fabulous seafood that’s caught just outside our door. This scallop dish is a favourite with our diners.
Buy scallops that are still in the shell and ask your fishmonger to clean them for you, reserving the cut half of the shell. Leave the rose on, as these are delicious. Do not buy scallops that look milky or are sitting in a puddle of water, as these will undoubtedly have been soaked and their flavour and texture will be poor.
Serves 2
fresh scallops 6
fresh tarragon 1 tsp, finely chopped
white wine 6 tbsp
olive oil 6 tbsp
sea salt
fine breadcrumbs 6 tbsp
For the garlic butter
garlic 2 cloves
fresh parsley leaves a handful
salted anchovies 2 fillets
butter 100g
Tabasco a splash
Preheat the oven to 240C/gas mark 9.
First, make the garlic butter. Place the garlic, parsley, anchovy fillets and butter in a food processor with a splash of Tabasco and blitz until smooth.
Place a scallop in each shell, keeping the rose on. Sprinkle each one with a little tarragon, then add 1 tablespoon of wine to each scallop and 1 tablespoon of olive oil.
Season with a little salt, then place a teaspoon of garlic butter on the top of each scallop. Sprinkle breadcrumbs over each one.
Place the scallops in a roasting dish and cook in the oven for 5 minutes.
The breadcrumbs should be nicely browned, the scallops firmed up and the olive oil, garlic butter and wine all bubbling together.
Serve 3 scallops to a plate or one plate of 6 to share and get stuck in.
From Fish by Mitch Tonks (Pavilion, £25)
Mitch Tonks’s roast squid stuffed with mussels, lemon and spinach
Serves 4
mussels 500g
fresh spinach 450g
garlic 2 cloves, finely chopped
olive oil
dry white wine 5 tbsp
dried chilli 1
fresh white breadcrumbs a handful
lemon juice of 1
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
freshly grated nutmeg a pinch
fresh flat-leaf parsley 2 tbsp, chopped
squid 8 medium, with tentacles cut off and reserved, cleaned and skinned
garlic, lemon and parsley dressing to serve (see below)
green salad to serve
Preheat the oven to 240C/gas mark 9. Scrub the mussels and remove the wispy beards. Discard any shells that are broken or that are open and do not close when tapped sharply.
Put the mussels in a large pan with a little water, cover and steam for 3-4 minutes, until they open. Remove them from the shells. Discard any that remain closed. Strain the liquid to remove any grit, and reserve.
Wash the spinach and cook it over a low-medium heat in the water still clinging to it for 2-3 minutes. Drain and finely chop.
Fry the garlic in 1 tbsp olive oil over a medium heat for 2-3 minutes, or until it starts to brown. Add the spinach and wine and boil for 2 minutes to cook off the alcohol. Take off the heat.
Crumble in the chilli, then add the breadcrumbs and mussels, and moisten with the reserved mussel liquid and the lemon juice to make a workable stuffing. Season and add the nutmeg and parsley, then stuff the squid with the mixture, securing the end with a co*cktail stick if you wish.
Heat 1 tbsp olive oil in an ovenproof frying pan over a high heat, then sear the stuffed squid and tentacles on all sides until golden – approximately 3-4 minutes in total.
Transfer to the oven and roast for 6-7 minutes, or until cooked. Drizzle with the garlic, lemon and parsley dressing and serve with a green salad.
Garlic, lemon and parsley dressing
Season 6 tbsp good olive oil with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Stir in 1 crushed garlic clove and 1 tbsp finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley. Mix in lemon juice to taste.
From Fish Easy by Mitch Tonks (Pavilion, £19.99)
Nigel Slater’s warm crab and tarragon tart
I rarely make pastry, but for a quivering, rust-coloured tart of such delicate flavour I will happily make a fragile crust and fill it with a creamy custard and pieces of fresh shellfish.
Serves 6
For the pastry
butter 175g, cold and in small chunks
plain flour 200g
egg yolk 1
ice-cold water 2 tbsp
For the filling
eggs 3
double cream 300ml
French mustard 2 tsp
tarragon leaves 1 heaped tbsp (about 35-40 leaves)
crab meat 500g
parmesan 2 tbsp, grated
Make the pastry: rub the butter into the flour, either with your fingertips or in a food processor. Add the egg yolk and water and a good pinch of salt. Push into a smooth ball and roll it on the table until it is slightly cylindrical – it will slice better in that shape. Put the pastry in the fridge to cool and rest for about half an hour.
Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Slice the chilled pastry into thin rounds and press them into a 23-24cm tart tin. Press the pastry to cover the base and up the sides, making certain there are no holes. Prick the bottom with a fork to stop it bubbling and chill for 15 minutes, before baking for 15 minutes until it is dry to the touch.
Separate the eggs. Mix the yolks with the cream, add salt and pepper and mustard, then chop and add the tarragon. Stir in the crab meat. Beat the egg whites until they will stand in peaks then fold them into the crab custard with a large metal spoon. Pour the custard into the pastry case and sprinkle with parmesan.
Turn the oven down to 190C/gas mark 5 and bake the tart for about 30-35 minutes until it is puffed and golden but slightly wobbly in the centre.
Remove the tart from the oven and let it cool a little before cutting. It should be set at the edges and soft, almost runny, in the centre.
