Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum

I haven't posted about avocado for a while. Four years to be more exact. So, I thought that with the mild temperatures we have been having in London and that early feeling of summer, what better food to have than a light lunch with avocado in the lead role? The recipe and photo were taken from The Guardian Cook supplement and they took it from the blog What Should I Have for Breakfast Today.

Avocado baked with an egg and chorizo

1 avocado
2 eggs
1 chorizo sausage, roughly chopped
Olive oil
Salt and black pepper
2 slices of bread, preferably multiseed
2 tsp chopped flat-leaf parsley

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Cut the avocado in half, remove the stone and scoop a little extra of the flesh out, so you can fit more egg into it. Break the first egg into a bowl. Using a spoon, place yolk in one half of the avocado, then carefully start to add white (you may not manage to add all the white). Season with salt and pepper, then repeat with the other egg and half of avocado. Place the avocado halves in a small baking dish that fits them snugly, so they won't tilt and the egg will not spill out – scrunched-up foil in the base of the dish helps to hold them level. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the white is opaque and the yolk is done to your liking. Meanwhile, heat a little oil in a frying pan and cook the chorizo sausage pieces until crisp, then drain on kitchen paper. Fry the slices of bread in the same pan, adding a little more oil if you need it. Serve the avocado on a plate with the sausage, seasoned with salt and pepper and a scattering of herbs, with toast on the side

The music to accompany this tasty recipe has to be equally savoury. My first offer is The Unthanks with a beautiful and enchanting melody, King of Rome. The arrangements are superb just like the combination of avocado and chorizo.



Magic is at the centre of cooking and magic is what makes music good music. Tiganá Santana came recently to my attention via Songlines magazine. Elizabeth Noon is one of those tracks that leave you licking your lips just like our recipe tonight.



There was a time when, if someone asked me who my favourite classic composers were,  I would say straight away: Bach, Beethoven and Mozart. Chopin, Handel, Brahms and the others would follow closely after but it was mainly the first three that did it for me. Not anymore. Whilst I continue to love Beethoven and Mozart's oeuvre, it is into Bach's music that I have delved more over the years (especially after reading two biographies on his life and work) and which I find spellbinding and filling. Like avocado, which to me it's filling. The Prelude in C Minor is my way of explaining why Bach's music makes feel this way.



I live in Londontown and Bellowhead sing about London Town. So, it follows that if I want to sign off tonight with an uptempo number I should go for this band made of members of whom only one is from... Londontown. Enjoy.



Next Post: "Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music", to be published on Sunday 11th May at 10am (GMT)

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum

 Photography: Louise Hagger for the Guardian

I confess that when I first heard the recent horror stories about people getting wounded whilst trying to cut avocados I laughed. I was not being mean, I swear. I felt sympathetic to those involved in avocado-caused accidents. It 's just that the way these injuries were described was... hard to believe. Most people apparently got cut trying to flesh out the large seed. Any Cuban (or Mexican, or Brazilian) will tell you that if you quarter (there, that's a massive clue) the avocado, the seed will fall out without any further intervention.

I love avocado, which is the reason why I am posting this recipe. I am always looking for new ways of getting the best of this highly nutritional fruit. Yotam's recipe offers a new twist.

Avocado with curried prawns and lime

100ml groundnut oil
1 banana shallot, peeled and halved lengthways, then each half cut lengthways into quarters
1 red chilli, deseeded and thinly sliced
20 fresh curry leaves
2 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp black mustard seeds
2 limes, 1 finely shaved and juiced, the other cut into four wedges, to serve
Salt
300g sustainably sourced raw king prawns, peeled and deveined (cooked peeled prawns are a perfectly acceptable shortcut)
20g mayonnaise
80g Greek-style yoghurt
1½ tsp mild curry powder
1 tsp honey
2 ripe avocados, cut in half lengthways and stoned

Heat 85ml of oil in a small saute pan on a medium-high heat, then fry the shallot and chilli for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the shallot is golden and fragrant. Add the curry leaves, fry for 20 seconds, until crisp, then take off the heat and stir in the coriander and black mustard seeds, lime skin and a pinch of salt. Set aside for 20 minutes, to cool and infuse, then discard the lime skin.

Put the remaining tablespoon of oil in a medium sauté pan on a high heat, then fry the prawns and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt for a minute or two, stirring, until the prawns are cooked through and fragrant. Transfer to a plate to cool.

Mix the mayonnaise, yoghurt, curry powder, honey, two teaspoons of lime juice and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt in a small bowl. Finely chop half the prawns and stir into the sauce; toss the remaining prawns in the infused oil.

To serve, put an avocado half on each of four small plates and sprinkle with a small pinch of salt. Spoon in the creamy sauce, then top with the whole prawns, allowing some to fall off around the avocado. Drizzle each portion with a tablespoon of infused oil and sprinkle with the crisp aromatics. Serve with a lime wedge.

The music to go with this dish has to be equally punchy. That is why I am opening with Laura Marling. I saw her set at the recent Glastonbury and she was excellent once more. Here's Salinas.

Second track tonight comes a band I discovered only a year or so ago. The Airborne Toxic Event makes music as unusual as their name. This melody is as haunting as the emotions that probably motivated.



The last song is a classic, reworked by the flamenco singer El Cigala. Cheo Feliciano made this salsa number a worldwide hit and now it has been given a new lease of life by El Cigala. El Ratón (The Mouse). Enjoy.

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum

I love avocadoes. And now my son does, too, which fills my heart with glee. It is said that if you were to be stranded on an island and you had the opportunity to choose just one kind of food that you could eat every day in order to survive, avocado would be the most appropriate and healthiest option. It contains a high percentage of monounsaturated fat, vitamins B, E and K and fibre.

In Cuba we have a funny way of finding out whether to use an avocado for salad or dip/paste. We shake the fruit close to our ear (cue puzzling looks from other customers in my local supermarket) and if we hear the seed inside it moving, that means it can be added to any green salad you're preparing. We call that type of avocado, 'aguacate aguachento' (watery avocado). If the seed remains static, we press our fingers on the fruit skin instead to assess its ripeness. If they sink, then we go for the paste.

Guacamole is not very common in Cuba as it is in Mexico and other Latin countries in Central America. Hence my introduction to this dish came only when I was in my twenties, courtesy of a Mexican family who lived in Havana at the time and with which I was acquainted. I found their guacamole quite spicy for my taste, if truth be told, but after almost thirteen years in Britain where I've had th pleasure of occasionally tucking into Mexican food, I've grown accustomed to the hotness (as in spicy).

The recipe below is by Felicity Cloake, a writer specialising in food and drink. I have to admit that I don't include tomatoes when I make my guacamole, just try to keep it as simple as possible. Plus, I like using lemon juice as opposed to lime, or garlic dressing if I haven't got any lemons. This recipe is perfect as a light lunch on a rainy day, followed by some hot 'mate', drunk, preferably in a customised gourd. Just, you know, to keep things as Latin as possible.

Guacamole

1–3 fresh green chillies, depending on heat, and your taste, finely chopped
2 spring onions, thinly sliced
Handful of fresh coriander, roughly chopped
3 ripe avocados
1 ripe medium tomato, cut into 3mm dice
Juice of 1 lime
Salt

1. Put a teaspoon each of the chilli, onion and coriander into a pestle and mortar, along with a pinch of coarse salt, and grind to a paste.

2. Peel the avocados and remove the stone. Cut into cubes, then mash into a chunky paste, leaving some pieces intact.

3. Stir the chilli paste into the avocado, and then gently fold in the tomatoes and the rest of the onions, chilli and coriander. Add lime juice and salt to taste. Serve immediately, or cover the surface with cling film and refrigerate.

And if we're to keep things as Latin as possible, then it should follow that my first musical offering tonight has Latin written all over it. Late Cuban singer Ibrahim Ferrer joined forces with the British pop band, Gorillaz, and together they released this gem of a song. Full, like a ripe avocado.



To me, grinding the chilli, onions and coriander is like listening to Franz Ferdinand's guitars. The workout I get from combining those ingredients in a mortar is similar to the syncopated beat of the Scottish band. Marvellous.



Once my guacamole is ready, it's time to sit down, put my feet up and enjoy it. Just the way I enjoy how Caetano's voice sounds: mature, confident and serene. The water is boiling and pretty soon I'll have a gourd with steaming 'mate' in hand. Happy eating!



© 2010

Next Post: 'Birthday Post: Reflections and Music', to be published on Tuesday 16th November at 12:01am (GMT)

Meals on (Two) Wheels

When it comes to music, Jamaicans are never short of a banger (or more), so it goes without saying that when it comes to their cuisine they favour a zinger there as well. Rudie’s in Dalston, east London, is that kind of place where you can get a piece of real Jamaican grub at a decent price in comfy and homely surroundings.

Meals on Two Wheels rocked up there recently and after struggling to find a parking space for its bicycle (this is east London after all!), it rested its muscular behind on one of the establishment’s straight-backed seats. A gloomy and nippy winter Saturday afternoon was the only excuse needed to tuck into a plate of Peppered Shrimps and a (as it turned out) very generous portion of plantain (by the way, the correct pronunciation of "plantain" might be reason enough to start WWIII. If you don't believe me put a West-Indian and an African in the same room.). The prawns were king-sized and bathed in Boston sauce. They were accompanied by a welcome committee, made up of cherry tomatoes and avocado salsa.

Whilst over the years Meals on Two Wheels has gone from no-hot to vindaloo-hot, nothing could prepare our regular, bicycle-powered section for the might of Jamaican hot. The Old Jamaican Ginger Beer that was ordered with the bite was not enough to quell the fire. Luckily, a very helpful Italian waitress brought over a glass of milk. This went some way to mitigate the inferno caused by the Peppered King Prawns.

However, do not let this small incident put you off Rudie’s. Pound for pound, it is one of the better eateries in east London today. The shrimps were well-cooked and tender. They were also plentiful. The plantain was of the as-Mama-cooks-them-back-home variety. And at just under fifteen quid for a dish that could have been a main (their platters range from £7.50 to £12. They also cater to vegans), Rudie’s is a snip. Meals on Two Wheels has since been back with a couple of friends.

Just a piece of advice, though. Make sure that if you do go to Rudie’s, you’re not out marathon-training the next day. Your stomach might disagree with your choice.

© 2019

Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music... Ad Infinitum

 Photograph: Louise Hagger for the Guardian.

Maybe it is the success I had recently with a chicken and avocado salad I made for a colleague’s leaving do at work, but I am getting bolder with my veg and spices. This recipe comes courtesy of one of my favourite cooks, Yotam Ottolenghi. My only addition would be a Scotch bonnet chilli. Just to give the salad a bit of a kick.

Moroccan carrot salad with orange and pistachio

The orange blossom is a lovely addition to the dressing, but don’t buy a whole bottle just for the sake of a quarter-teaspoon. This salad is still lovely without it. Serves four.
650g carrots, peeled and coarsely grated
2 oranges, peeled and cut into 1cm pieces
½ small garlic clove, peeled and crushed
50g pistachios, toasted and chopped
20g coriander leaves
15g mint leaves

For the dressing

3 tbsp olive oil
¼ tsp orange blossom water (optional)
2 tsp honey
1½ tsp cumin seeds, toasted and lightly crushed
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
3 tbsp lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Whisk the dressing ingredients in a bowl with half a teaspoon of salt and a good grind of pepper. Add the salad ingredients, toss to coat and serve.

The music to go with this recipe must have that fresh feel, too. And because it is winter, it must also have that heart-warming quality that this season’s food has. First up are the Four Tops. Just because this song exudes the joy that fills up my kitchen when I’m cooking. Enjoy.



His voice is velvety, smooth and utterly ethereal. Maxwell’s cover of Kate Bush’s This Woman’s Work is as good as, if not better than, the original. It goes hand in hand with our crisp, spicy salad.



We finish with a fine daughter of Africa. Malian singer song-writer Oumou Sangare’s soulful voice is one that suits our aromatic salad very well.



Next Post: “Thoughts in Progress”, to be published on Saturday 4^th March at 6pm (GMT)