Fish fingers and custard with smashed Sontarans

If I say “fish fingers and custard” what pops into your mind?

No.  I’ve not joined some weird food blogging event sponsored by a multiconglomerate of processed “food” manufacturers daring participants to combine two unlikely products and pretend that they are fit for human consumption (individually or together).

No.  I’ve not accidentally typed “fish” when I meant “lady.”

No.  I’m not pregnant (but yes, I am still looking for a decent guy…in case anyone out there knows of one).

Yes.  I’m a Whovian. 

So what’s the big deal with Doctor Who?  Why has this TV series about a Time Lord and his companions hurtling through time and space in the TARDIS captivated so many worldwide? It’s not a big US “a big budget automatically makes it good” production--in fact, production values are traditionally low.  Really…have you seen a Dalek?  They look like overgrown pepperpots with a toilet plunger as one arm and a paint roller (or is it an elongated eggbeater) as the other, with a camera lens on a stick as an eye.  That's what they look like. In reality they're heartless, angry squid creatures who hide out in the pepperpot shells.

I think it works because when you strip away the sexy fish vampires, killer mannequins, battle-obsessed potato people, farting aliens, and cyborgs at its heart Doctor Who is about a drifter with a dark and mysterious past, who when he sees bad things happening, does something about it.  His friends and comrades are often recognizable to the average viewer—students, shopgirls, people just trying to get their act together—and together they get to the bottom of issues and generally make things better.

And for me…the cleverness of the baddie pretence is irresistible.  For 50 years writers have taken everyday items and made them terrifying: shop mannequins, stone angels, your neighbour's voice crying for help, your television set.  I've always known diet pills are evil.  As to The Doctor: he's eccentric. And he's smart.  How could I not be attracted to that?

Throughout the past half-century the Doctor has remained an enigma.  In as much as he’s an optimist, he reveals himself in bits and pieces.  Sometimes he references the Time War or other fights he’s been in.  Sometimes he talks about the people he’s lost. Sometimes his reactions tell the tale.  Whatever it is…there's a lot of darkness that he keeps at bay.

One of the things I find interesting is how fans interpret the words and deeds found within the canon.  Many have extrapolated life lessons, such as the ones I found that speak to PR and strategic communications.

Okay fine.  But what does all this have to do with fish fingers and custard?

Well…the Doctor has a few food peculiarities.  Pears are bad.  Jammy Dodgers save the day.  He likes to offer people Jelly Babies.  Celery is a boutonnière.  And then there’s the entire banana thing.

Long story short, after regenerating into the 11^th Incarnation, the doctor got hungry and after rejecting many foods, he was satisfied with fish fingers and custard.

I’m sure Stephen Moffat came up with that combination to see what Whovians would do with it. And yes, a number of people have created their own recipes, including Alton Brown, this sweet version using cookies.

So…a challenge.  And I’m up for it in honour of Doctor Who’s 50^th Anniversary celebrations this weekend.

The fish part is a fairly easy non-recipe recipe: dust fish goujeons with seasoned flour, dip in an egg wash and then coat in panko crumbs mixed with herbs (such as parsley or dill).   You could also just go out and buy a packet of fish fingers…but where’s the fun in that?

As to the custard, I knew I didn’t want to play around with a savoury milk pudding spiked with saffron, turmeric or mustard.  So I took the easy route and zhuzhed up a homemade aioli.  No my custard (or TARDIS sauce) isn’t electric yellow, nor is it cooked, but it does have dairy and egg.  I will say, the sauce is also good with roast potatoes.

And well…what’s fish without chips? You could do fries or good, chunky chips…but given how battle-loving the potato-like Sontarans are, I decided to make some crispy, smashed Sontarans. 

Fish fingers

Ingredients
500g (1lb) firm white fish such as cod or haddock, cut into finger-like pieces.

Salt

All purpose flour, seasoned with salt and pepper

1 beaten egg

100g (1.5 c) panko breadcrumbs mixed

1Tbsp  chopped fresh herbs (such as dill or parsley)

Oil, for frying

Method

Lightly salt the fish fingers and refrigerate, uncovered for 20 minutes.

Heat  enough oil so you can either deep fry or shallow fry the fish. 

Dab off any wetness from the flesh, then dredge in the seasoned flour, dip in egg and then cover in the herbed panko crumbs.

Fry until the fingers are cooked.

Custard Sauce/Tardis Sauce

For the Aioli

1 egg yolk

2 grated garlic cloves (as paste-like in consistency, as you can get it)

7.5ml (0.5Tbsp) Dijon mustard (smooth or grainy)

60ml (0.25c) flavourless oil

60ml (0.25c) extra virgin olive oil

7.5ml (0.5Tbsp) warmed white wine vinegar

salt and pepper to taste

Combine egg and garlic with mustard, salt and pepper.  Whisk in the oils in a steady stream.  Keep whisking until fully incorporated and then whisk hard for about a minute to make the mix thick and glossy.  Add the vinegar and whisk some more.  Balance flavours to taste.

You’ll get about 125ml (1/2c) of aioli from the above recipe

To turn the aioli into TARDIS sauce, mix together the following ingredients

60ml (0.25c)  aioli

60ml (0.25c) sour cream

7ml (1.5tsp) prepared horseradish

5ml (1tsp) Dijon mustard (smooth or grainy)

5ml (1tsp) prepared English mustard

2ml (0.25tsp) cayenne pepper (or to taste)

2ml (0.25tsp) onion powder

salt

Balance flavours to taste.

Smashed Sontarans

Again, this is another non-recipe recipe.

Baby potatoes (about 5cm/2” in length) OR regular potatoes, cut  into 5cm/2”  chunks. Leave the skins on

Salted water (for boiling)

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Other seasonings, you see fit.

Preheat oven to 200C/400F.  Slick a cookie sheet with olive oil

Parboil the potatoes in the salted water.  Drain and tumble onto the oiled cookie sheet.

Press the down on the potatoes with a  spoon, fork or the bottom of a sauce pan.  You can smash flatish or just press down enough to rough up the surface.

Sprinkle with salt, pepper and other herbs and spices as you see fit. 

Drizzle more olive oil on top.

Bake for 20-30 minutes until the potatoes are cooked, with crispy brown bits.

Allons-y!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Corned beef Hash

Even though I was careful to not have a whopping huge hunk of corned beef, I had more than enough for a couple of suppers and sandwiches.

The most obvious solution to my embarrassment of cured beef riches was, as you've probably guessed by this post's title, corned beef hash.

Then again, I may have embarked on a 14-day brining adventure just to make this crisped potatoey-beefy-oniony conglomeration.

Like so many foods created to use up an odd bit of this or that, this, again, is a non-recipe recipe. I don't think there's a hard and fast rule about corned beef hash: chopped up left over boiled potatoes, chopped up left over corned beef, mixed with chopped onion, garlic and spices, fried, an served warm for breakfast lunch or supper.

Browned hashed potatoes with bits of spiced cured beef, topped with a soft boiled or runny poached egg, with butter toast to sop up the golden goo...what more does one want for a lazy Sunday breakfast, or a midnight nosh when back from a night out sampling the local pub's liquid offerings? Not much, I think.

Corned Beef Hash
Serves 2-4

Ingredients
Butter and or olive oil, for frying
1 onion, finely diced
1 garlic clove, minced
250g (1.5c) boiled potatoes, finely chopped
100g (1c) corned beef, finely chopped
salt
pepper
0.5tsp mustard powder
1tsp vinegar



Method
Heat fat in a cast iron pan until quite hot. Saute onions until transluscent. Add garlic and stir until its scent is released.

Tumble in chopped potatoes and meat, a pinch of salt, two of pepper and the mustard powder. Sprinkle with vinegar and stir well and press into an even layer in the pan.

Fry until the bottom is crisp and golden. Turn, in sections, to crisp the other side. If it sticks, add more fat to the pan. Fry and turn again (or as often as needed) until the potatoes and meat are lovely and crispy.

Dollop some sour cream along the side and garnish with chopped chives or spring onions.

Serve with eggs (soft boiled, poached, fried, or whichever way you wish), baked beans, fried tomatoes and or fried mushrooms.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Colcannon

I love it when I find an incredibly easy and tasty dish. Don't get me wrong: for the most part I still love spending a couple of hours in my kitchen, carefully dosing out ingredients, slowly folding and rubbing and waiting for volatile oils to release and scent the air. The truth is I don't always have that sort of time to devote to feeding myself (sad, isn't it?). I'm normally on the lookout for something quick, delicious and slightly different from the same-old same-old, but one that can be completed in those fleeting moments between work, meetings, going out and sleep. From time to time I find a solution so elegant in its simplicity, I wonder why I didn't try it before. Colcannon is one of those foods. A traditional Irish dish, it's simply sauteed greens stirred into mashed potatoes. As someone who loves sauteed kale, cabbage and other deep leafy greens almost as much as I love creamy (and garlicky) mashed potatoes, this is pretty much a happy foodish marriage to my tastebuds and gullet. What makes it better (I think) is that it's pretty much a non-recipe recipe. Don't believe me? Here's proof:

• Step one: Saute some kale (or green cabbage or other leafy green).


• Step two: Mash some potatoes (preferably with milk/cream and butter).


• Step three: Mix everything together.

Still don't believe me? Read the painstaingly recorded instructions which follow this bit of expository. To summarize:

• Step one: Saute some kale (or green cabbage other leafy green).


• Step two: Mash some potatoes (preferably with milk/cream and butter).


• Step three: Mix everything together.

See? Colcannon Serves 4-6 Ingredients 250g (0.5lb) Kale leaves, chopped (one bunch) 1 shallot, thinly slivered 4 spring onions, green parts only, finely chopped butter, for sauteing and mashing 500g (1lb) Yukon gold potatoes (or any mashable potato) 125ml (0.5c) milk 1 clove garlic, smashed salt pepper Method: Fry the shallots in butter until golden. Add the kale and spring onion greens and a couple of tablespoons of water to the pan. Give it a stir and lid the pan and let the greens steam lightly--the green will be vibrant, but the veg won't be limp. Remove the lid and let the water evaporate, stirring occasionally. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside

Parboil potatoes in salted water. When they are about half-cooked, drain off 2/3-3/4 of the cooking water and retun to the hob, put the lid on and steam over low heat until an inserted knife blade or fork easily slips in and out of a potato. When the potatoes are about ready, heat the milk with the smashed garlic. Mash the potatoes to your liking, using the garlic-infused milk and butter. Stir in the cooked greens. Balance flavours to taste. Notes:

• You can substiute cabbage (savoy or green) for the kale.


• If you have bacon fat on hand, use that to saute the greens.

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Sauteed Cabbage, Potatoes and Bacon

Savoy cabbages make me smile.

I can't help it. There's something about those deeply lined leaves and their crinkled edges. There's also something to be said about the colour: graded blue-green tones with stark palid veining that remind me of pine trees' boughs laidened with snow.

There's also a bit of whimsy there and I can't help but to see if Peter Rabbit is hopping about the grocery store bins and shelves.

I can't resist but bring one home with me.

I know not everyone likes cabbage. Too many heads have found their way, boiled into a sulphurous and somewhat slimy end.

I suppose if that was my first introduction to cabbage, I'd feel the same way. But it wasn't. My first (and still, to this day), favourite way to have cabbage is as cabbage thoren: a dry stirfry made with black mustard and fresh coconut. No, I don't have a recipe--it's one that I want to get from my Dear Little Cardamummy. When I do--and when I adapt it to be my own--I'll post it.

It's not slimy or overcooked. There's no pungent smell. It yields slightly to the tooth but retains some colour and crispness. The mellowed green flavour is what cabbage, when treated with a bit of tenderness, should taste like. Or at least I think so.

When I bring home a curly green head of Savoy cabbage, there are few things more satisfying to me than this all-in-one dish of cabbage, potatoes and bacon. Last night's leftover potato gets cubed and sauteed in bacon fat and tumbled with slightly steamed cabbage. It's pretty much a non recipe-recipe--the quantities aren't written in stone, and the flavours can be changed to suit your taste with the addition of caraway, butter or even a bit of cream.

Cabbage, potatoes and bacon
Serves 4-6 as a main course, more as a side dish.

Ingredients:
100g (3-4 rashers) bacon, chopped
olive oil
1 onion, slivered from pole to pole
2 garlic cloves, minced
salt
pepper
450g (1lb) boiled Yukon Gold potatoes, cubed into 1cm dice (2 good-sized potatoes)
450g (1lb) cabbage (Savoy or white), cored and shredded
3-4 Tbsp water
a few drops of white vinegar

Method:
Frizzle bacon in oil, until half-cooked. Add onions, garlic as well as a good pinch or two of pepper and one of salt. Fry until the bacon is cooked and has rendered its fat. Remove mixture to a bowl, leaving as much fat in the pan as possible.

Fry potatoes in batches until tinged with gold, adding the crisped potatoes to the bacon mixture.

Tip the shredded greens into the pot and saute for a minute or two. Add water and vinegar and a pinch of salt. Lid the pot, letting the veg steam for a few minutes until the colour is vibrant, but the leaves are still crisp.

Return the bacon, onions and potatoes to the pan and stir well. Balance flavours to taste.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!

Mmm...Canada: Newfoundland Fries

Happy Canada Day!

Has it really been two years since our dear Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess and I cohosted a Canadian food event called Mmm...Canada (she, with sweet entries and I with savoury entries)? Really?

We tried to organise it this year, but our lives are turvey-topsey, bisy backson with barely a chance to sit down and have a cup of tea. And really...if we can't set the time aside for a cup of tea how can we do this land justice in a foodish way?

We'll bring it back. Really. I promise.

When I stepped into my kitchen to offer a Canada Day treat, so many foods came to mind. So many in fact I was practially beside myself with what I should do. Sweet? Savoury? Something regional? Something with indigenous ingredients? Something with a memory?

Yes. All of the above.

It could have been latent guilt playing upon me for not doing an event, but I think it was the sheer breadth of foods that gave me bursts of energy and creativity. Over the month I'll post as many as I can. Some are sweet, others are savoury. Some are ingredient focussed and some, are a regional treat. Some are fabulous for hot and heady summer days and others, like today's recipe, are I think best suited for cool autumns and frigid winters.

A few weeks ago I wrote about poutine, the fabulous Québecois dish that is, according to a favourite colleague, the ultimate comfort food. Newfoundland fries continue in this tradition of embellished french fries.

My area of the world is dotted with the occasional chip wagon: a parked caravan offering sizzling fresh, deep fat fried potatoes. With a sizeable community of Maritime emmigrés--specifically Newfoundlanders away from home--these wagons' signs often boast "Newfoundland Fries."

French fries, turkey stuffing, peas, gravy, cheese curd and sometimes chunks of the bird itself, Newfoundland fries are like the best of a formal Thanksgiving dinner with the informality of a plateful of chunky chips.

Such fare is not for the feint of grease, the watcher of cholestorol or the minder of salt.

No matter. The peas make up for it, of that I'm more than certain.

Newfoundland fries, like poutine are a non-recipe recipe and good use of bits of leftover dinner, in this case a roasted chicken or turkey meal.

Newfoundland Fries
Serves as few or as many as you wish

French fries
Cheese curds
Roasted chicken or turkey
Stuffing from said bird
Hot gravy (chicken or turkey)
Peas

Tumble cheese, meat and stuffing onto the fries. Ladel on the hot gravy and sprinkle with peas.



If you are still hungry—or curious about what Canadians eat--take a meander through my list of Canadian food blogs--it’s a pet project of mine, I've been running for about six years and updated whenever I can--just let me know if you want to be added.


cheers!
jasmine







I'm a quill for hire!

Food to mend a bruised heart: Part One: Poutine

It doesn't matter if you're 16 or 36 or 56 a bruised heart is still a bruised heart. Those of you who know the story, know the story. For those of you who don't, all I'll say is that a cycle is complete, probably not to replay with the same cast. The full story is not yet known...and I suspect I'll never truly know...but hindsight offers interesting glimpses.

Like many, I choose to take my solace in food. Broken down into copious amounts of sugar, salt and fat (which some misguided souls believe to be unhealthy and even self-destructive), these three flavours bring comfort and relief.

The salty-strong craving was matched with hot and cheesey as well as beefy and mindless. Poutine satisfies.

For those of you in the dark, poutine is quite frankly one of the greatest foods on this planet.

French-Canadian in origin, it is at it's simplest a combination of french fries, and cheese curds made melty by bubbling hot gravy. While not quite ubiquitous, it's not that difficult to find as diners, chipwagons, roadhouses and well-known national fast food chains usually have their versions on offer. Even swanky restaurants gussy it up a bit with special cheeses, dusting their fries with spice mixes and slathering everything in unctious sauces.

My preference is to have medium to chunky chip-like fries, made with unpeeled potatoes and deep-fat fried until golden. Baked fries just don't have the same mouthfeel as proper chips, but will do in a pinch. Red wine-mushroom sauce (like the one I used for Julia Child's Oeufs à la Bourguignonne, and what I photographed) is gorgeous on hot fries and mild curds.

Variations could include spaghetti sauce and mozzerella, chili and cheddar, or adding bits of meat like roast chicken, bacon, sausage or ground beef. There are no real rules ... just as there are no real measurments (well, not according to me)...which makes it a non-recipe recipe.

Poutine

French fries

Cheese curds

Gravy (beef, chicken, whatever)

Heat the gravy as the fries are cooking until wisps of steam rise from the pot.

When the fries are done, spoon some gravy onto the plate. Pile the fries on top. Sprinkle with cheese curd and top with more hot gravy.

Related posts:

Food to mend a bruised heart part two: Choco-fudge cake with peanut butter icing

Food to mend a bruised heart part three: Maple-glazed peppered bacon

cheers!

jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Potatoes and bacon and cheese oh my!: Panhaggerty

My bibliophilia is not a secret.

I love well chosen words, committed to paper, bound in paper or cloth.

I love the scent a recently-printed book releases as I flick through it.

I love the light texture of the paper fibres on my fingertips as turn each page.

Even though my collection numbers in the four-digits (and that's after I lost a few hundred because of a tragic-to-me flood two Christmases ago), like the men I who keep my company, I am rather choosey about the ones I bring home.

I peruse bookshelves, pick up a title and skim its pages. More often than not, it's reshelved. At most I'll spend 30 seconds with a book--like resumés, fundraising asks and online dating profiles, that's all the time an author has to wow me into adding their title to my basket.

The same goes for cookbooks. I read them in the same way as I do novels. Actually, it's more than that. Not only do these writers need to wow me with their food, but they also have to understand the music of language--of food language--before I'll consider adding them to my cookery book collection. They need to weave tales and transport me to their kitchens and times as well as support me on my journey there. Few pass the test.

Which is why when I found myself curled up in one of those wooden armchairs, in one of those ubiquitous big box bookstores, with a cookbook for more than 20 minutes, I knew I had a gem in my hands. When I realised I had a Cheshire Cat-like grin plastered to my face, I knew Colman Andrews' The Country Cooking of Ireland would come home with me.

I spent most of this weekend with the book--reading about Ireland's seafood and cheeses, potatoes and game. I've marked more recipes to try than I have in a very long time. It's not pretentious. It doesn't break down ingredients into molecules, nor does it try an elevate food to an esoteric level. It celebrates food. It celebrates the land and waters. It celebrates the Irish.

What more do I want from a cookery book?

I've marked a number of recipes to try. Some, because the ingredients sound wonderful (filet mignon and mushrooms in whiskey sauce). Others because I've heard of, but never tasted them (colcannon). And still others because their names just make me smile (parapetetic pudding, anyone?).

Panhaggery definitely falls into the last of these categories. And the first. And the second.

I took Colman Andrews' original recipe as a guide, adjusting the amounts of fat and potatoes, adding in some sage and garlic. It's easy satisfying and adaptable. I can see myself making this again, but with sweet potatoes and bleu cheese, or playing with charcuterie.

But really, more importantly, this dish made me smile.

Panhaggerty
adapted from The Country Cooking of Ireland by Colman Andrews

Serves 6-8 as a side dish

1 Tbsp butter, plus more if needed
100g (3.5 oz) streaky bacon, chopped (four rashers)
1 medium onion, slivered into lunettes
1 garlic clove, minced
black pepper
0.25-0.5 tsp dried sage
225-450g (0.5 lb-1lb) Yukon Gold potatoes (or any boiling potato), (see note)
175g (1.75c) grated cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 180C/375F.

In a 20cm (8") cast iron frypan fry the chopped bacon in the butter until crisp. Remove the bacon pieces to a kitchen toweling-lined bowl.

Pour off the fat, leaving about a tablespoon in the pan (do not discard fat). Add the onions and garlic. Stir until the onions wilt and begin to caramelise. Mix in a couple of pinches of pepper and the sage. Remove from the pan and mix with the crisped bacon.

Remove the pan from the heat and brush the bottom and sides with oil (adding more from the poured-off reserve, if needed).

With one third of the potatoes, shingle the slices over the bottom of the pan, leaving none of the metal exposed. Layer half the onion mixture overtop the onions and then layer a third of the cheese overtop the onions. Sprinkle with pepper.

Layer half the remaining potatoes on top, repeat as above with the rest of the onions and half the cheese and pepper. Top with remaining potatoes. Dribble the remaining fat over the potatoes, dotting with butter, if necessary.

Pop into the oven and bake for 40-50 minutes or until an inserted knife easily pierces each potato layer.

Turn on the broiler. Sprinkle with the last of the cheese and broil for 1-2 minutes or until the cheese has melted thoroughly.

Note: The quantity of potato depends upon how thinly you slice them and how large the potatoes are. Start with slicing half the potatoes (225g/0.5lb) and judge after the first layer if you need to slice any additional potatoes.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!

Brussel sprouts with sausage and potatoes

Ah, poor Brussel sprout...why do so many people dislike you?

I mention a craving and some gaze upon me with a horrified look that could only mean that I've converted to the cult of big box freezer meats and other processed dinners stores...or worse yet, have become a gym bunny.

Really, these cute little leafy, Smurf-sized cabbages can't be all bad can they? Well, I suppose with initials like BS, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that people don't necessarily trust them when presented.

Even a supper party teaming with good-eating (as in adventurous) foodish friends elicits dubious looks at a pot loaded with brussel sprouts with pancetta and chestnuts (from Nigella's Feast). I proudly announce that their scant and polite first portions were not only hoovered, but followed by proper sized second (in some cases a third) helpings, and in the process, I'd won converts to my altar of Brussel sprouty adoration.

The problem, it seems, is a prediliction for boiling the happiness out of these little spheroids until they are greyed, almost mushy and devoid of...sparkle. Why would anyone do that to a lovely little cluster of leaves? Really.

For me, there is no such thing as a lowly Brussel sprout, to be treated with anything that hints at derision. Really, all they need is a bit of a steaming--just enough to take away the squeak add a bit of vibrancy to their colour...a bit of salt, pepper and butter (everything is better with butter). My Dear Little Cardamummy curries them. I've been known to add them to a veggie pasta as well as pizza. But, truth be told, I normally take a page from La Lawson and other recipe writers who pair them with bacon. Really...like butter, everything is better with bacon.

So the other week, when a local grocer had my adored little cabbages on special offer, I was in a mini-bliss...and treated them as a hash-like main course. Not only does it use left over boiled potatoes, it's very easy and quite satsifying. The quantities are specific, but not--if you want more meat, add more meat. If you want fewer potatoes, don't add as many. Change it up as you wish--a favourite variant uses sweet potatoes and thick bacon cubes.

Brussel sprouts with sausage and potatoes
2 Italian sausages, freed from their casings
Olive oil
Half a medium globe onion, sliced in lunettes
2 garlic cloves, minced
A pinch or more of chilli flakes
350g leftover boiled potatoes, cubed (or you can parboil them)
350g Brussel sprouts, cleaned and quartered
60 ml water
A few dashes of Worcestershire Sauce
Salt
Pepper

Brown the sausage; remove the meat leaving the fat in the pan. Soften the onions in the pan, adding oil as needed. Add the minced garlic and chilli flakes, salt and pepper. Tip in the potatoes and brown, stirring occasionally. Remove the potatoes and add the brussel sprouts with the water; lid the pan and let the veg steam for a few minutes until vibrant. Strain out any remaining water and reintroduce the potatoes and the sausage and Worcestershire. Mix well and adjust seasoning to taste.


cheers!
jasmine

Red, White or Swiss: Rösti and veal and mushrooms in white wine

or Rœstis et emincé de veau, sauce au vin blanc et champignons...

or Kartoffelrösti und Zürcher Geschnetzeltes

About a week and a half ago, the lovely Zorra of Kochtopf sent out a note saying she was homesick for her beloved Swiss homeland. Swiss National Day is on 1 August and she'd appreciate if we'd help her celebrate by blogging about dishes that were red, white or Swiss by 29 July.

I must admit that my knowledge of Switzerland and Swiss things is rather spotty:
- Its provinces are called cantons
- It's a landlocked nation with a good defensive army who supply mercenaries to the Pope
- The first Swiss-related food I had was Nestlé's chocolate something or other, the next was Swiss cheese, and the next was rösti--grated potato cakes.
- There are four official languages (German, French, Italian and Romansh)
-The Von Trapps fled the Austrian Nazis for Switzerland
-I've flown over parts of it, so I can tell you the Alps are pointy (which means the mountains are relatively young).
- The Swiss Rocket Man is pretty cool
-The once-popular Helvetica font is named after the rootword that forms Helvetii, a tribal group found in that area
- Their humanitarian tradition includes The Red Cross
- The Geneva Convention
- The League of Nations was based in Geneva
- Napoleon conquered the Swiss army in the late 1700s, imposed a new and unpopular national constitution, but within a quarter century Swiss independence was regained and the other European powers recognized the nation's neutrality through the 1814-1815 Congress of Vienna
- Sir Roger Moore lives there

When it came to cooking for this event, I decided to make some Swiss foods. Unfortunately, the only thing that came to mind was rösti--absolutely delicious, but a bit predictable. Sigh...what to do, what to do...

As luck would have it, I was invited to friends' for supper last week...and one of them is Swiss.

After a delicious meal that included gazpacho and barbecued venison, I told them of the event and asked for some suggestions--but not rösti...I'm sure there will be several versions of it for the event. I left with a borrowed copy of Schweizer Küche/Cuisine Suisse/Swiss Cooking by Michael Klein and Yvonne Tempelmann, a trilingual (German, French and English) book featuring traditional home cooking from the mountainous country.

After flipping through the pages, and pausing over all the cheese-ladened goodies (Appenzeller fried cheese fritters, spinach gnocchi with Schabziger cheese, potato-tomato bake), I decided on a mushroom and veal dish, swathed in a white wine sauce...which is recommended to be served over...umm...rösti.

Really, was there a doubt that the fried potato cakes would be absent? If there was, take a look at this post's title...it kindasorta gives it away.

Both dishes were very easy and quick to make. The rösti is a very quick and simple way of doing away with a few extra boiled potatoes from last night's supper. And I'm seriously thinking of encasing the veal dish in a puff pastry or a shortcrust pie the next time I make it...

Veal Strips from Zürich
adapted from Swiss Cooking by Michael Klein and Yvonne Tempelmann

Olive oil
500g thinly pounded veal, cut into strips
salt
pepper
a spoonful of flour
1 minced onion
200g finely sliced mushrooms
1 tsp white wine vinegar
100ml white wine
100ml beef stock
200ml heavy cream
1 Tbsp cornstarch
finely chopped parsley, for garnish (optional)

Fry the veal, remove to a bowl; sprinkle with salt, pepper and flour.

In the same pan, sauté the onions and mushrooms, adding extra oil if necessary. Add the vinegar and wine; reduce the liquid to half. In a measuring jug mix together the stock, cream and cornstarch; add to the pan a stir well. Bring it to a simmer. Tip in the meat and juices, stir well and let the sauce thicken a bit. Season to taste. Garnish with parsley if desired.

Rösti
adapted from Swiss Cooking by Michael Klein and Yvonne Tempelmann

600g day-old boiled potatoes, grated
salt
pepper
nutmeg
butter
1 minced onion

Season the potatoes and set aside.

Sauté onions in butter. Tip in the potatoes and stir--you want to heat through the potatoes, so this will take a few minutes.

At this point you could either

• Pat all the potatoes into a cake and fry over a medium flame until the potatoes become a crisp brown.

or

• Remove the potatoes to a bowl. Take out one quarter, shape into a cake and fry as above, frying as many cakes at once as will fit in your pan.

cheers!
jasmine