Green potstickers

I love my friends so much that when one of them decides to go vegan, caffeine and sugar-free AND teetotal for a whole entire month in the name of charity, I'm still friends with them. Sigh. It's hard hanging out with these kind-hearted people. (If you donate £20 you can have a poem written for you with your choice of theme!) I remember how difficult veganism was, so I was only pleased to invite them round for lunch.

I almost always default to Asian food anyway but even more so with veganism, as that's where it feels most versatile without losing as much flavour. You won't get far with trying to replicate a bacon sandwich, but these potstickers, packed full of vegetables with no meat in sight are (almost) as satisfying. I will freely admit that I eat too much meat - I think we probably all do - so I'm making a more concerted effort to get more vegetables in there. It just needs a little imagination.

Green Potstickers

Makes around 30 

1 packet of white round dumpling skins (not wontons) - sometimes labelled gyoza, or make your own
1/2 a medium sized courgette, diced
3 sticks of celery, peeled and diced
100gr peas, freshly podded or thawed
1 inch of ginger, grated
3 cloves of garlic, minced finely
2 tbsp light soy sauce
120gr firm tofu, chopped finely
1 tbsp cooking oil
2 stalks of spring onion - whites minced and the greens finely sliced into rings
2 large shiitake mushrooms, rehydrated and minced

Dipping sauce:
Ginger, slivered
2 tbsp Chinkiang black vinegar
1 tsp sugar
1 tbsp light soy


Heat 1 tbsp of cooking oil in a saucepan until it is shimmering. Add the garlic, ginger and celery and stir fry until softened. Add the courgette, tofu and soy sauce and cook on a medium heat, stirring constantly. Add the whites of the spring onion and cook for another 2 minutes. By this point the mixture should be quite dry, if not cook on a higher heat, still stirring.

Remove and leave to cool. Add the fresh or thawed peas and the greens of the spring onion. Add it to a blender or a food processor and pulse briefly until it has all been chopped finely.

Place a wrapper on the palm of your hand and add a teaspoon of the filling. Fold the dumpling, pleating as you go. (For step by step pictures, and a meatier filling my book, Chinatown Kitchen has it all.) Otherwise, here.

In a non-stick frying pan add the remaining 1 tbsp oil and heat on a medium heat until shimmering. Add the dumplings flat side down and fry for 3 - 4 minutes, checking that they're not burning. Add 50ml water and place the lid on so that they steam for 3 - 4 minutes. Remove the lid and, checking that the bottoms aren't burning, cook until the liquid has evaporated and you're left with a crisp bottom.

Mix the dipping sauce ingredients together and serve with the dumplings.

Delancey & Co., Goodge Street

I'll confess - I never once went to Katz's Deli in New York in all of the 5 or 6 times I've visited the city. I know, it's an institution, but have you seen the sandwiches that come out of there? They are enormous. Behemoth. I couldn't face satiating my hunger quite so roundly. That would put me down for at least an entire meal time.

Delancey & Co. on Goodge Street is a New York deli-style kind of place. 'Modernising New York tradition', they call it. Smoked salmon, salt beef and the mystery that is smoked turkey - I'll never understand what is so special about smoked turkey - offered in bagels or various type of bread. When I first visited, challah bread took my fancy and it came totally wodged with salt beef.

That green goo? That's wasabi horseradish mustard and it doesn't seem to be on the menu anymore; all the better really, because that greenness gave me the wibbles. Nothing is wrong with normal mustard. In fact, please stick to normal mustard. The cheese, blow-torched onto the bread is entirely superfluous and I'm going to go out on a limb and say for once, this sandwich is better cheese-less. Yep. The unadulterated salt beef is really that good.

They're not buggering about with their smoked salmon, either. That shit is generous. Too generous for a 9am breakfast bagel. But perfect once the sun has passed the midday point.

It's not cheap - it's definitely not Brick Lane Beigel Bake cheap - at £7.95 for a standard salt beef sandwich. The meat is plentiful and moist, laced with fat and just the right side of salty, and the smoked salmon is obviously well made. Skip the chopped salad - it has the office canteen slop feel to it - and opt for the sweet n' sour pickles instead, to fill your vegetable quota. They are GOOD.

Delancey & Co.
34 Goodge Street
London W1T 2QL

Minced Prawn & Egg Tofu

On Sunday The Independent published an article about a trip I took with their journalist, Holly Williams, around London's Chinatown to show her the wonderful array of ingredients you can use, and how easy they are to use them. This is a recipe using egg tofu, which I think is much maligned by people new to Asian cooking as it does look a little peculiar. There was only so much I could fit in the book, and compared to other forms of tofu this one isn't as common, so I had to kill it. 

But I do love it so, so here it is now. It's made by adding egg to the soy milk before it is coagulated to form and solidify it. It's very delicate - when you slice to tube in half the egg tofu slides out like jelly. The egg gives it colour and a slight hint of rich egg flavour; it's really good steamed, and I also like to dust it in cornflour and braise it in sauce, or simply dust it in spiced flour (the salt and pepper tofu coating in Chinatown Kitchen is great for this) and eat it as a snack. 

Thanks to Keiko Oikawa for the images

This particular dish involves mincing up raw prawns and delicately piling it atop discs of the tofu, and then steaming it all together. Some have it as is, savouring the sweetness of the ingredients but I like to take it a little further with a spicy sauce to drizzle over. Here is the recipe -it's really easy, takes less than half an hour and it is best served with a vegetable side dish and a bowl of steamed rice. 

Minced Prawn & Egg Tofu

Serves 4 with sides

300g raw prawn meat
2 tbsp egg white
Large pinch white pepper
Large pinch salt
1 tsp cornflour
2 tbsp chilli oil with sediment
1 tbsp Chinkiang black vinegar
1 tsp brown sugar
½ tsp sesame oil
2 tsp light soy
2 tubes egg tofu
1 tsp cooking oil

To serve

1 stalk spring onion, julienned
Coriander, roughly chopped

Smash the prawns with the side of a cleaver and chop finely. Place this prawn paste in a small bowl, then add the egg white, pepper and salt. Stir well. Add the cornflour and stir again.

In a bowl, mix together the chilli oil, vinegar, sugar, sesame oil and soy, and leave to one side.

Slice the tofu tubes in half and carefully squeeze out the contents. Slice into circles the width of your thumb. Arrange flat on a plate. Add 1 heaped tsp of the prawn mixture on top in a small mound, and place in a steamer. Drizzle with the cooking oil. Steam on a high heat until the prawn meat turns pink – this will take around 6 minutes.

Remove carefully and drain off any water collected. Drizzle the chilli oil mixture around the tofu, and top with the coriander and spring onion to serve.

C Food, Camberwell

I've spent the last few days in France by the seaside, sipping (ok, glugging) Provençal rosé, frolicking in the sea and generally having a lovely time. I came back to a slightly greyer London, dejected and tired so I was completely delighted when I arrived at C Food, a new pop-up in Camberwell. Just off the Peckham Road, the courtyard this weekly pop-up is housed in took me right back to the holiday spirit I'd just left behind. When we arrived, musicians were strumming guitars gently, and twinkling fairy lights festooned the space.

Brightly coloured tables and benches are set out for groups to dine at, sharing family style. Held every Sunday until 27th September, for £25 set price for food, the menu kicks off with bundles of peppery radishes and nutty, seeded bread.

Oysters, freshly shucked come at two per person, a fine example, briny with a splash of lemon. We slurped on a blush rosé, £18 per bottle, easing me back from my French binge.

New potatoes, boiled and buttered, scattered with parsley are handed down the table and soft floppy green leaves are dressed with a mustardy vinaigrette. Platters of seafood (for four to share) are served on ice; a dressed crab, rich with brown meat, was eagerly piled on top of the bread and dolloped with dill or plain homemade mayonnaise. Plump prawns are mess-makers, the bowl beneath catching the discarded shells. I've not often had cold mussels but these were sweet and firm, less wobbly than a hot preparation. Smoked salmon is generous (I would have liked some capers, but I do love the things) and a ramekin of smoked mackerel paté benefitted from a squeeze of lemon. As darkness fell, one bottle turned into two and the doom of the impending Monday melted away.

Dessert is simply strawberries drizzled with cream and dotted with mint leaves, a nod to this month's Wimbledon and a refreshing and light end to the meal.

Safe to say I really enjoyed C Food - it was the perfect antidote to the holiday blues. By the end of the meal we were chatting to our neighbours long after the evening had settled in. I could barely believe we were in the hustle and bustle of Camberwell, and it was quite the shock turning back onto the main road. You can buy tickets here.

(I was invited to C Food but all opinions are my own. Obviously.)

If you prefer your mussels hot over cold, I have a cracking recipe for Mussels in Lemongrass Broth in Chinatown Kitchen - you can buy it here.

Clear Beef & Turnip Soup

The Chinese have plenty of ways of cooking their version of a 'beef stew'. The Taiwanese and Sichuanese add a bit of spice to theirs with chilli bean paste, to make a rich, red broth - I have a recipe in Chinatown Kitchen, using ox cheek. At one of my favourite noodle shops in Hong Kong, Kau Kee, they only sell beef - brisket, tendon and 'slices'. You can get it in clear soup or in curry soup - both are incredible. I also like cooking the beef in Chu Hou sauce, which is made with fermented soybeans, ginger and garlic.  

I return to the clear version frequently, and I find it's light enough to be a year-round dish. The scent and fragrance of the soup from hours of simmering is mouth-watering. The soup is clean, slightly sweet, intensely beefy - you don't have to have noodles with this, you could also spoon it over rice. 

Clear Beef Brisket & Turnip Soup

Serves 4

1kg beef brisket, cut into bitesize chunks
500gr beef bones (optional)
4 cloves of garlic, peeled and smashed with the side of a cleaver
7 slices of ginger
2 spring onions, whites and greens separated, both chopped finely
2 star anise
1 stick of cinnamon, or cassia bark
1 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine
1 lump of yellow rock sugar, about 10gr
1.5 litres of water
3 large turnips or mooli, peeled and sliced into bite-sized chunks
1 tbsp cooking oil
1 tsp salt

Bring a large saucepan of water to the boil. Add the brisket, bones, 3 slices of garlic and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat, drain the water away and rinse the beef pieces, as well as the saucepan well to get rid of the scum. 

Return the saucepan to the stove and heat the oil. Add the garlic and remaining ginger and stir-fry until fragrant. Add the beef pieces and bones, then sprinkle in the cooking wine. Add the cinnamon, rock sugar, star anise and the salt, then the water. Bring to the simmer and simmer for 1.5 hours with the lid on. Alternatively you could put this lot in a pressure cooker and cook at pressure for 15 minutes. 

Next, add the turnips and cook for a further 40 minutes (5 minutes in the pressure cooker). 

Carefully drain the broth into another saucepan, and discard the beef bones. Reduce the broth for 5 minutes on a rolling boil, then add the whites of the spring onions and take off the heat, returning the turnips and beef to the pot. 

Serve with rice, or ladle over cooked noodles to serve. I cooked rice noodles and cavalo nero for the opening shot, served with chilli oil. 

Som Saa, Hackney

Have you ever enjoyed a restaurant so much that you revisited the night after? 

There are so many restaurants in London, especially new ones opening up all the time, that it would seem like madness to do so, but I did do it. One Friday night, we rocked up bang on 6pm to Som Saa in Hackney. It's situated in an archway underneath London Fields train station. If you ever went to Burnt Enz, sadly now relocated to Singapore, you might recognise the space as it's the same one, in the Climpson Arch. They're in residence there, headed up by Andy Oliver and Tom George. Andy's pedigree is solid, having trained at Nahm in Bangkok and The Begging Bowl in Peckham. I knew I was already enamoured with his food from this brief stint in 2013.

They are in the arch temporarily, until they find themselves a permanent home. It's always busy; it was reviewed well, and Thai BBQ is so-hot-right-now. On visit number 1 we put our names down and took to some outside benches with snacks and drinks, nibbling on cashews spiked with chilli and lime. This prawn with samphire on a betel leaf is intended to be eaten whole and it was absolutely gorgeous. It's one of those things that slap you round the face and demand that you pay attention. The perfume of the lemongrass, the citrus lime, balanced with fish sauce, a hint of lime leaf - masterful.

After a brief wait (which wasn't really a wait, given that we were seated, with snacks and drinks. There are worse ways to queue) we were seated. The first to arrive was the coal-roasted aubergine, garnished with a soft boiled duck egg, resplendent with herbs. Smoky, silky and sweet, sticky rice we have unlimited amounts of was perfect for mopping up the sauce. 

Lon Kapi is smoked mackerel and raw vegetables served with a dip of shrimp paste and coconut cream. I knew I had to have this, as I also know the lengths they go to to make their own coconut cream by hand. It is not in vain. Leaves of bitter chicory contrast wonderfully with the slightly sweet dip. I particularly enjoyed the sour / sweet chunks of green mango too. 

As for larger dishes, the sea bass is deep fried whole and served looking panicked. It's covered in herbs, so you have to rootle around a bit for the morsels of flesh. Roasted rice is pounded into a powder and sprinkled on top, for a bit of crunch. 

We also tried a Isaan-style som tam; at Som Saa, both Isaan and Bangkok styles are offered. The Isaan is not for the faint-hearted; this particular style of Thai cooking, from the North East of the country, is known for being spiciest, and features sour and fishy flavours heavily. Indeed, the som tum is made with fermented crabs. It sure was funky. It was so spicy I glanced over to a man eating it and his head was thrown back, he was slightly perspiring, and he was gulping the air. 

I came back the following evening with 4 friends. We ordered everything from the menu with glee. 

This time we had the Bangkok som tam, which comes with crispy pork. Crispy pork makes everything better so there was a clear winner between the two options. 

All the other dishes I enjoyed again, though none of us were particularly fond of this grilled oyster mushroom on chicory. I think it was the dill, it jarred somewhat. 

The grilled onglet with herbs, lettuce and roasted red chilli paste made a great little parcel to pop in the mouth. Onglet is known for for being particularly flavoursome as it comes from the diaphragm - as such it has to be cooked very rare so that it remains tender. I would have paid a little more for a fattier, juicier cut like rib-eye. 

Soup was the clear, soothing broth with mushrooms bobbing about in it. Our table heaved with plates as elbows knocked into shoulders as we attempted to dish the soup out. It was reviving and comforting. Some remarked that it was bland, but I thought that really was the point of it. 

Thai meals are all about balance. Some dishes are meant to be on the sour side, some spicy, some mild, and you're also supposed to have dishes that lean to a sweeter angle. Our palates were becoming slightly fatigued - a couple of the salads were quite similar - and then this baby turned up. It's a Northern-style pork belly curry with pickled garlic and ginger. Northern-style in this sense meant no coconut milk, just rich, sweet, anise-scented sauce that the fork-tender pork belly cooked in. I loved the ginger on top; it cuts through that richness and livens it up. I loved this dish very much. In fact, I loved Som Saa very much.

Both times at Som Saa I spent around £25 on food, while the bill for drinks can go up depending on how long you're waiting. And how many of these you drink. The Sang Som hangover was strong. 

I have a recipe for Tom Yum soup, amongst other Thai gems in my book, Chinatown Kitchen - in case you're out of reach of Hackney, or just prefer cooking at home. 

Arch 374 Helmsley Place,

Hackney, London E8 3SB

No Reservations

Summer Opening Times

Dinner:        6pm-late Thurs - Sun

                        (last orders 1030pm)

Lunch:          12-3pm Sat / Sun only

Garden:        6pm-late Thurs / Fri

                        12-3pm & 5pm-late Sat / Sun                  

                        weather and kitchen permitting

A Wok Trick, & The Prakti Charcoal Grill

Thanks to @BluePatchTeam for the photo

Yesterday I was at Rye Books in East Dulwich doing a cooking demonstration for my new book, Chinatown Kitchen. I taught a small gathering how to fold wontons and potsticker dumplings, before they got stuck in themselves to have a go too.

The chap in the flat cap is Alastair, owner of Rye Books. When we first met he gave me a Praki, that little red thing there, to experiment with, as that was what we were going to use to cook the dumplings at the demonstration. Alastair sells these in his shop - Prakti are a charcoal burner manufacturer from India, and the burners are designed to use less fuel and be more efficient. Originally aimed at home cooks and restaurants, they're also a brilliant camping stove - portable and easy to carry, but also easy to light and to control the heat from the charcoal. I'm terrible at lighting barbecues - there's usually a lot of flapping, often resorting to liquid lighter - and I was surprised to find I managed this one first time.

We've taken it on trips with us - we cooked sausages for sandwiches in a car park in the middle of the countryside. They don't give off much smoke either, so you can use them in smaller spaces...

...Like my balcony at home. I was worried the smoke would blow into other people's flats, but it's quite well contained. Placing a few sheets of foil or a ceramic tile underneath it stops the ground from scorching. Here are some masala mutton chops that tasted almost as good as Tayyabs; I bought them from the refridgerated Halal butchery counter in Asda on the Old Kent Road. I strongly recommend them - they are s.p.i.c.y.

One trick I did find was that wok cooking is pretty great on the Prakti. My electric hob is nowhere near hot enough for traditional wok cooking, but if you sit your wok on a charcoal grill, the charcoal heats up higher than a conventional hob, thus giving you some proper stir-fry ability. Also, the charcoal imparts a lovely flavour. I cooked egg fried rice, and the whole operation only took a few minutes longer than it would have done on the stove, for far superior results.

It had a great level of 'wok hei', literally translated as 'breath of the wok', that much-sought-after wok flavour you get from cooking at a super high heat.

There's a recipe for egg fried rice in Chinatown Kitchen - you can buy it here.

You can pick up a Prakti at Rye Books - they're £65 each.