CELERIAC REMOULADE

This on a menu, with a few thin slices of proper jamon, makes me squeal with glee. If there were space, I'd make a vat-load to fill jars for every corner of the fridge, and dip in and out when I pleased.

Celeriac remoulade wins for its true rooty flavour; no ingredient is lost even though tossed through buckets of spicy mustard and soused in tart lemon juice. It's a frugal combination and is easy to make. It is bed-friend to my favourite things: slather it on good bread; spoon it into a jacket potato and eat with baked beans (yes); gobble fork-free with piggy bits.  

CELERIAC REMOULADE

Serves 4-6

1 x 500g celeriac, peeled

olive oil, to drizzle

3 tbsp creme fraiche

1 tbsp grainy mustard

3 tbsp dijon mustard

juice of a lemon

freshly chopped parsley leaves, to serve

Coarsely grate the celeriac into a large bowl and drizzle with olive oil.

In another bowl, mix the creme fraiche with the mustards then stir through the lemon juice. Taste then season with salt and pepper as you see fit. Mix through the celeriac and, just as you are about to serve, toss with the chopped parsley.

Serve a handful on salty jamon and drizzle with a little olive oil.

PEA FOR PERFECTION

This blog is dedicated to my dish de la semaine. I've cooked it three times this week and it continues to excite me...who knew that wee green petit peas could be so wonderfully versatile?

PERFECT PEAS

SERVES 2

INGREDIENTS

large knob of salted butter
6 sleeves of prosciutto
1 white onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped and pasted
200g petit pois
40ml chicken stock
2 tbsp double cream (optional)

Fry the proscuitto in the butter until almost crispy. Remove the pork form the pan, saving the fat. Saute the onions in the fat until soft and salty. Add the garlic with the peas into the onions. Do not burnt the garlic. Add the stock and simmer until the liquid is all absorbed. Stir in the pork and add the cream. Pour hot from the pan into a warm bowl.

I had mine with a poached egg, and I recall groaning a little once the last mouthful went in. If cooked well, you will taste every ingredient that has gone in with the peas. Sweet, salty, crunchy, creamy...The fresh, sweet little garden pea is given a wild and creamy varooom, and you just can't get enough. Think hoppy grasshopper meets roaring hippo.

Try with sweet cure bacon, broad beans and mint for extra bite.

WHEAT THE DEVIL?

A Happy Post-Easter to you all.

Apologies for the long delay. I have spent the holiday in France gorging on creamy, stomach-swelling tartiflette, french bread, and greedy amounts of chocolat chaud with cream (or rather cream with a dash of hot chocolate). I know. Yawn. It's alright for some.

But while I was out there, munching on the finer things in life, it came into me how blooming lucky I am and how much I take for granted being allergy and intolerance free to all food. Having to ask what is in every dish before eating it, putting a brave face on when you want to be polite, or going on endless wild-goose chases for substitutions to the no-can-eats in a delicious looking recipe sounds like hard work to me.

FRIENDS OR FOES?

But where there is a will there is a way, and those who need to find a way often do it with the ultimate style. Over the next few weeks, I call out to you all, whether averse or sensitive to certain foods, to laden me with your YUM recipes, restaurants that cater for all, and intolerance-friendly ingredients that are highly underrated. I am far too (and gratefully so) naive on the matter, and want to find out what I'm missing - it could, after all, be an entirely better option to cooking with things that I mindlessly gobble up.

So on that note, while you all think of ideas, I'm off to find my friend Mr. F. Haines, - a wheat and gluten free man - to peer over his shoulder as he experiments in the kitchen...