Grilled Pineapple Salsa

I've been big into my salads at barbeques recently. This red onion and pomegranate salad is now a regular feature, and after having made this salsa, I imagine it will be too. Gone are the days of sweaty supermarket coleslaw, mayonnaise-laden claggy potato salads and a bowl of wilted lettuce to slap in your burger bun as a token gesture. No no, it's all about fresh, colourful and vibrant sides to garnish your plate.

Fresh pineapple has always been a favourite of mine. Dressed with mint, it makes a refreshing summer snack and dipped in salt and chilli, a moreish treat. Nicaraguan pineapples, their flesh snowy white, were intensely sweet and blended with water to make a thick juice, were a perfect way to start the day. Barbequing the pineapple makes them sweeter, the heat caramelising the sugars inside the meat. Chopped roughly into Asian flavourings, it made a great accompaniment to grilled mackerel, the sweet and tart flavours contrasting with the rich, oily fish. This one I made was rather fiery which suited us fine, but do test your chillis before you lob them in. Of course, you don't have to lug the barbeque out; a griddle pan will also do the trick.

Grilled Pineapple Salsa

Makes a huge bowl that satisfied 10

2 pineapples
4 red chillis (or more, or less, to taste)
A large bunch of coriander
4 spring onions
1 lime
Fish sauce, to taste

Cut the sides off the pineapple and slice into large pieces through the width. Place the slices on the hot barbeque and grill for 6 - 7 minutes each side so that they are well scorched. When cooled, slice around the hard core and chop into chunks. Add to a large bowl with the chillies, chopped finely. Slice the spring onions on the diagonal and throw them in, along with the bunch of coriander, chopped roughly. Dress with the juice of the lime, and add glugs of fish sauce, tasting after each one, so that you get a nice sweet, salty and sour balance.

Stuffed Barbequed Squid

Now that summer is upon us, the barbeque gets a serious firing up. A perfect way to spend a lazy Saturday or Sunday, I sometimes struggle to see past the usual burgers, steaks, chicken drumsticks and kebabs. Often it can turn into a total meatfest. Recently though, we've been a bit more creative. Baby octopus, marinated in paprika, lemon juice and garlic get skewered, drizzled with oil and slapped on the hot grill so that it's tentacles curl up and you're left with juicy bodies with a bit of crunch. Razor clams have featured, the heat making their shells slowly open for the sweet tender meat to then be chopped roughly and dressed with lemon and olive oil.

I usually marinate squid in a citrus with some flavourings, score them and slap them on but have recently taken to stuffing them. Their little bodies, skewered closed with cocktail sticks become the perfect encasing for the fillings; able to withstand quite a high heat,  they burst messily over your plate as you slice them. You can really make up the stuffing as you go along, but I think it's best to have some sort of grain in there to soak up all the juices. These are flavoured with chipotle and ancho chillis, so the rice was smoky and fiery all at once.

Dried ancho poblano chillis, which you can buy online here, are possibly my new favourite thing. It's a shame they don't come cheap but they have an intense fruity flavour while keeping a mild heat. Soaked in hot water, they collapse softly making them easy to chop or puree into a sauce.

Stuffed Baby Squid

1kg baby squid (I buy mine frozen from the Chinese supermarket - at £4.50 / kg they are quite a bargain)
1 onion
2 cloves garlic
2 sticks of celery
1 dried ancho poblano chilli
1 dried chipotle chilli
1 tbsp tomato puree
1 lime
100gr wild rice
A handful of coriander
Salt & pepper
Cocktail sticks

Soak the cocktail sticks in cold water - this prevents them from burning on the barbeque. Bring a small pan of water to boil, and soak the dried chillis in the hot water in another bowl.

Dice the onions and celery and mince the garlic. In a frying pan, add a glug of cooking oil and cook slowly until softened and golden. Drain the chillis and chop finely, adding them to the onion mixture. Fry slowly for about 5 or 10 minutes. Add the tomato puree and the rice, stirring to coat. Add 100ml water and bring to the boil. Simmer for 10 minutes, stirring every so often; if it's looking dry add more water. Wild rice is very forgiving so you don't need exact measurements of water. Simmer for another 10 minutes until the grains are tender and the mixture is moist but not sloppy. Take off the heat and season generously with salt and pepper. Squeeze in the juice of the lime and add the coriander, chopped finely. Leave to cool.

Meanwhile, remove the tentacles from the squid and chop finely. When the rice mixture is cold, stir the tentacles through. Stuff the rice into the squid using a teaspoon, carefully, and secure with a cocktail stick. Fire up your barbeque and when your coals are white, oil the squid and slap them on for 3 minutes or so each side.

Steamed Pork Belly With Lily Buds

It looks like a great hunk of gloop, doesn't it?

A packet of dried lily buds has been sat in my cupboard for months, waiting for me to do something with it. After an appeal for help, a friend sent me a scan of a recipe book he picked up in Malaysia that consists only of pork belly recipes, and using 50gr of the strands meant I could get rid of at least half a packet. 

I've used this method of cooking pork belly before. It's lengthy and involves multiple stages of cooking, but the end dish results in tender meat, silky fat and subtle flavours. It's not for the faint of heart; deep frying a piece of pork belly usually results in a fair amount of hot oil being spat all over the kitchen. Squeals can be heard emanating from my terrified but salivating mouth.After an initial boiling to rid the meat of impurities and scum, it is then dried and slid into a wok of bubbling oil until it takes on a gorgeous caramel colour.

Next, it is packed snugly into a bowl with various aromatics, to be set into a steamer to gently stew away until it becomes a dish that can be pulled apart by a deft hand with chopsticks - or in my case, tugged apart messily with a knife and fork.

The deep frying intensifies the porky flavour of the skin, while steaming makes sure that the skin goes from slightly tough and crisp to gelatinous and yielding in the mouth. Most European recipes prize the crisp crackling on pork belly, but Chinese recipes are not so rigid. Pig skin sliding down around the plate and eventually down the throat is just as satisfying as a fragile shatter beneath the teeth. The lily buds lend a floral Chinese herbal note - the kind you get when you catch a whiff of Chinese herbal medicine shops - to the dish, with a subtle meaty aniseed flavour from the star anise. I couldn't resist messing around with the recipe a bit; I added dried mushrooms, soy sauce and preserved vegetable for some added savoury tones.

Scooped up with some rice and served with stir fried pak choy, this dish was moreish but stayed light, without the richness of the belly weighing too heavily. It's not much of a looker though.

Steamed Pork Belly With Lily Buds

Serves 4

1kg pork belly, skin on and scored
4 star anise
4 spring onions
1 tbsp Tianjin preserved vegetable
6 dried shiitake mushrooms
50gr dried lily buds
70ml Shaoxing rice wine
2 tbsp light soy sauce
1 tbsp dark soy sauce
70ml chicken stock
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tbsp cornflour
300ml vegetable oil

Bring a large pan of water to the boil. Reserve a bowlful and soak the lily buds and shiitake mushrooms in this. Place the pork belly carefully into the saucepan and simmer on a medium heat for half an hour. Meanwhile, rinse the preserved vegetable and chop the spring onions roughly.

Drain the pork belly and pat dry. Rub with the dark soy sauce. VERY carefully, deep fry the pork belly skin side down only until golden in colour. You might want to wear long sleeves for this. Remove and soak in cold water for 30 mins.

Place the pork belly skin side down in a large bowl. Drain the mushrooms, lily buds and preserved vegetable - pick the mushrooms out and place on top of the belly. Add the spring onions and nestle the star anise within.Top with the preserved vegetable and pour over the rice wine, sesame oil, soy sauce and chicken stock. Place in the steamer and steam for 45 minutes. Remove the lid and arrange the rehydrated lily buds on top and steam for a further 1 hour and 10 minutes.

When this has finished, carefully remove the bowl from the steamer. Scrape the lily buds and mushrooms from the top and arrange on a dish. Carefully lift the meat out of the bowl and place on top of the lily buds, skin side up. Decant the liquid into a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Loosen the cornflour with 1 tbsp cold water amd stir into the saucepan. Simmer until thickened and glossy and pour over the pork belly to serve.

NB. Along with the Tianjin preserved vegetable which looks like this, you can get the dried lily buds in Chinese supermarkets.

Spicy Baked Eggs

One thing I usually make sure to do at the weekend is to take the time to have a nice proper breakfast or brunch. Weekday breakfasts consist of sad dusty bowls of miserable muesli at my desk, waiting for my email to load, or slices of slightly warm toast, bolted down while I run around the flat trying to find my keys. It makes the weekend a far more appreciated, leisurely affair.

Eggs feature heavily. They are comforting for healing the damages of Friday night beers, and they settle the stomach nicely. Recently I've taken to baking eggs in ramekins so that the whites are just set and the soft yolk oozes over the bread-dunking assault.

I went for a healthier version of the usual baked eggs with spinach, cream, butter and other niceties and made this smoky, chilli-packed version instead. A single dried chipotle chilli gave it plenty of kick with a background of smokiness that complemented the tomato well. If I wasn't still sick to death of them, this would go nicely with rice cooked with beans.

Spicy Baked Eggs

Serves 4

4 large eggs
1 tin of tomatoes
2 tbsp tomato puree
1 onion
1 fat clove of garlic
1 courgette
1 tsp sugar
1 stick of celery
1 dried chipotle chilli
2 avocados
4 flour tortillas
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C. Dice the onion, celery and the garlic and sweat in a frying pan gently. Meanwhile, rehydrate the chipotle chilli in a little boiling water. Once the onions are golden, add the tinned tomato and the tomato puree. Chop up the chipotle chilli and cut the courgette into chunks. Add to the tomato mixture along with the tomato puree and sugar, give it all a big stir and leave to simmer for 15 - 20 minutes, until thickened. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

When ready, spoon the tomato mixture into 4 ramekins, reserving about 2 tbsp. Crack an egg into each ramekin, carefully spoon a little more mixture on top and season lightly. Drizzle the extra virgin olive oil over the eggs. Cover with foil and bake for 10 - 15 minutes, until the whites are set and the yolk is still runny.

To serve, halve the avocados, skin them and slice thinly. Season with salt and pepper, and serve on the side. Place the tortillas under the grill until they are browned and nicely puffed up.

Hainanese Chicken Rice

Hainanese chicken rice has long been a favourite of mine. I still remember the best I've had; at the Shangri-La in Singapore when I was about 9. It was the rice in particular, silky grains laced with fat, tasting intensely of chicken, I haven't had the same anywhere since. In fact, Hainanese chicken rice seems to be a rare dish to be found in London.

However, I heard that there was one place that was worth trying - Uncle Lim's Kitchen, in East Croydon of all places. Situated in a shopping centre, at first glace it looks like a place I'd never stop at. A glass counter with bubbling trays of sweet and sour chicken, if you look a bit closer you'll also see Malaysian beef curry, and a sign advertising Hainanese chicken rice served from Fridays to Mondays. I was here for one thing and one thing only.

Served cold and off the bone, the chicken was dressed in soy sauce and was tender and juicy. The skin was springy and globules of jelly clung to the meat. The rice was tinged with garlic and a chilli sauce spiked with pounded ginger added a welcome kick. I was a bit sad that this wasn't served with the usual bowl of broth to accompany it though. Priced at £5.80, it was a bargain.

So happily I have a fine rendition of the dish a mere 20 minutes from home. It wasn't as good as the best I've had, but it would take a lot to top that.

Uncle Lim's Kitchen

Upper North Arcade
Whitgift Centre
Croydon CRO 1UZ

Tel: 020 8688 8378

Stir-Fried Okra with Chinese Sausage

Okra is a bit of a funny beast. Often called 'ladies fingers', they are slightly furry and have gained an infamous reputation for the slime factor. Often used in dishes from the Deep South, they are a typical ingredient in gumbo; stewed in liquid for a while, they lend a gelatinous and thickening quality.

Though I rather like the slime, they don't have to be - cutting them on a dry surface with a dry knife (so not getting them in contact with water) and then dusting in flour and frying in hot fat means they crisp up.

I used okra in this dish with Chinese sausage; you can buy them in Chinese supermarkets vacuum packed. There are a few different variations and I usually buy the ones that don't have liver in them. Though fairly expensive at around £5 - £6 for 12, they last forever in the fridge since they are cured. Slightly sweet, chewy and porky, the sausages are laced with fat and go really well in one-pot rice dishes, congee and stir-fried dishes. Here, the soft yet crunchy okra was a great texture contrast to the sausage. The splashes of soy bring out the slight slime, all to be scooped up nicely with plain steamed rice.

Stir-Fried Okra with Chinese Sausage

Serves 2

200gr okra
2 Chinese sausages
2 cloves of garlic
1 red birds eye chilli
2" knob of ginger
1 tbsp cornflour
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp oyster sauce
1 tsp sesame oil
Pinch of white pepper
Vegetable oil
1 spring onion
A small handful of coriander

Chop the sausages into bite-sized pieces. In a small pan, bring some water up to the boil and add the chunks to simmer gently for 5 minutes. Drain the sausages

Wash the okra and pat them dry. On a dry chopping board, slice the okra diagonally in 2" chunks. Mince the garlic and ginger, and chop the chilli. Slice the spring onion diagonally into ears and chop the coriander finely. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a wok until smoking. Turn down to medium, toss the okra in the cornflour, and stir-fry for 2 - 3 minutes. Add the chilli, garlic, ginger and sausage chunks and continue frying for another two minutes. Sling in the soy sauce and the oyster sauce, toss to coat and take off the heat. Garnish with the spring onion, white pepper and coriander, and drizzle the sesame oil to serve.

Pigging Out At The Drapers Arms

I firmly believe that pork is the king of all meats. It was with much excitement that I groggily made my way to The Drapers Arms, a lovely gastropub in the backstreets of leafy Islington. I had just completed a gruelling 30 hour journey from Nicaragua and I was in desperate need of some replenishing food.


The menu boasted five courses of porky goodness. First out was the smoked ham hock and pig's head terrine with toast and picallili. A coarse, jellied terrine was stuffed with flecks of herb, meaty jelly and chunks of pork. I long ago knew that I wanted to marry whoever's genius hand was behind the pickle-making here, and the picallili, crunchy and tart, was a delight.

Next up, a dandelion, black pudding and shallot salad was topped off with soft boiled eggs. The black pudding here was the softest I've had and it luxuriated upon the leaves nicely. Why aren't dandelion leaves more widely available? Robust, intense and bitter, I first tried it pulled out of the ground at Riverford Organic Farm. I love bitter foods and the silky egg yolk tempered the greenery nicely.

A course of simply sliced gammon was slightly on the dry side, though enlivened with yet more wonderful pickles; gherkins, beetroot and turnip.

The next course was one of my favourites - salt pork belly stew with white beans and watercress. Comforting, moreish and homely, the studs of pork were tender and slightly fatty, coating the mouth nicely.

Roast loin of pork came out next, accompanied by this crunchy and vivid beetroot, celeriac and apple salad; just the right hint of sweetness and earthiness that married together with the pork nicely, without having to resort to the usual apple sauce.

Crispy crunchy crackling and juice slices of meat were simplicity itself, but it showed that you don't have to do much to a good piece of meat.

The advertised rhubarb sorbet was garnished with angry blood red oranges that tartened up the dessert and yet managed to stay creamy. After those courses of rich pig meat this was a welcome and palate cleansing end to the meal.

I waddled off home, pleased as punch to have been fed so well after having spent two weeks existing on rice and beans. This was a one-off event, (follow them on Twitter to hear about upcoming ones) but it showed off some obvious skill in the kitchen and I'd gladly eat there again.

The Drapers Arms

44 Barnsbury St
Islington
London N1 1ER

Tel: 0207 619 0348



I dined here as a guest of Nick's, one of the co-owners. As you've seen, I like to make bets. He lost, and I won a complimentary seat.