Soup of the evening

Soup, the food that gives you the energy to eat other foods.

I know it's not much to look at (Mrs. Inspector vouchsafed "slime"), but it is an absolute treat.

Lamb, chickpea and spinach soup

This is enough for 2 people with leftovers.

Place 500g lamb neck in a small oven proof dish. Add enough water or good quality stock to cover. If using water, add a bouquet garni, some whole black peppercorns, 1 roughly chopped carrot, ditto 1 celery rib and 2 bay leaves. Cook in a slow oven (140°C) for 2 hours until the meat is falling off the bone. Remove the meat from the stock, and pick off the bone once cool enough to handle. Keep the stock for the soup.

Peel and dice 2 medium sized potatoes. Fry in a tsp olive oil until translucent and almost cooked, around 10 minutes. Add 1 finely chopped spring onion, 200g chopped spinach (or an equal quantity defrosted frozen spinach purée, which works just as well) the stock, a small glass of white wine, an equal one of water, 1 tin of drained chick peas, half a finely chopped preserved lemon and 1 tsp chilli flakes (only a pinch if you have the temerity to use cayenne rather than flakes). Bring to a boil and simmer until the potato has cooked through. Add the meat and 1/2 tsp dried mint or dill, taste for seasoning, and serve.

This hearty soup partners equally well with a light, fruity red or a gutsy white wine. I had the tail end of a bottle of Aegerter Chablis 2008. It was delicious.

Noosphere

There is this
and then there is another place outside inside everything
where all the rivers in our hearts empty out
a hummingbird at dawn
a shooting star
in the desert, the bleached bones of a long-dead thing

Leave the glass floor with a gentle push of your bare feet and send yourself into a watercolour cosmos

the most beautiful skies as a matter of fact

Interviewer: "What were the skies like when you were young?"

Jones: "They went on forever – They - When I w- We lived in Arizona, and the skies always had little fluffy clouds in 'em, and, uh... they were long... and clear and... there were lots of stars at night. And, uh, when it would rain, it would all turn - it- They were beautiful, the most beautiful skies as a matter of fact. Um, the sunsets were purple and red and yellow and on fire, and the clouds would catch the colours everywhere. That's uh, neat 'cause I used to look at them all the time, when I was little. You don't see that. You might still see them in the desert."

Singing nose flute Rickie Lee Jones recalling picturesque images of her childhood. This was later appropriated without her consent by ambient house troupe The Orb as a sample on dance noodle Little Fluffy Clouds.

Apricots

I like apples. Apples rarely disappoint. Apples are the Ivan Lendl of the fruit world. Sure, there are some more exciting flavours out there, but are there any that are so consistent? Sure, they can get a bit mealy (they like to be kept in the fridge), and like any tennis players, respond badly to bruising. Most apples are within touching distance of the best apples I've ever eaten (a particularly succulent, crisp and perfumed batch of Spartans which heralded autumn some years back).

Not all fruit are as dependable. There is a massive difference between an early ripening stone fruit, and a full blown mid-summer job, almost ready to explode it is so lusciously ripe. Apricots especially. They can be polite and unassertive, or moderately spectacular. I like dried apricots because they concentrate the sweet sour tang that defines the best of this fruit.

In South Africa, an unusual preserve called mebos is made from ripe, but firm, apricots which are brined, stoned, pressed flat, salted, and dried in the sun for several days. This produces a complex tangy, sticky puck of apricot, which is popular in the Cape as a lunch box staple. I was lucky enough to take delivery of an aid parcel from some friends in London (thanks R&R!), full of South African treats for the homesick, wan soutie, including a much coveted pack of mebos. I have adapted the following recipe from ice cream supremo David Lebovitz's book, The Perfect Scoop.

Mebos and Pistachio Ice Cream

Quarter 120g dried apricots and chop 2 mebos finely. Put the pieces into a small saucepan with 180ml white wine, dry or sweet as the mood takes you. Simmer gently for 5 minutes, cover and stand for 1 hour to allow the fruit to soak up all the juice. Coarsely chop 70g unsalted pistachio nuts.

Pour the apricot/mebos/wine mush into a blender with 130g sugar, 500ml single cream and a few drops of lemon juice. Blend until smooth, and chill thoroughly in the fridge before freezing the mixture in an ice cream maker. During the last few minutes of churning, add the pistachio nuts.

Socca

This is a Yotam Ottolenghi recipe, from his fantastic new book Plenty. The recipe can also be found here. I commend it to you. It makes a very tasty light supper. I'm posting a photo of my effort, because I was very proud of pancake # 4, which had a shape that almost certainly occurs in another dimension's version of nature, and hardly any burnt bits.

In The Pink

Since my arrival in landlocked Hungary, most of my intake of Class Pisces has been of the tinned variety. I come over all excited when Mrs. Inspector gets the tin opener out of the drawer, and am reduced to rubbing up against her leg in anticipation. I've also had a rather tasty fisherman's soup, or halászlé, at a dingy bistro at the top end of Paulay Ede Utca. And one day, I'm set on purchasing a whole live carp from a market and smacking its head on the kerb to send it to Fishalla before doing all sorts of unspeakable things to its carcass. But what I really miss, is a spanking fresh bit of sea fish. So, it was with lightened wallet that I returned home earlier this week with 2 chunky salmon fillets, procured from Culinaris, where etiolated ex-pats can be seen staring hungrily at the various imported wares like dissolute vampires.

This is a pretty dish, the rose sauce and the gentle pink of the poached salmon contrasting with the autumn hues of the salad

Poached salmon fillet with pink sauce and warm lentil salad

Allow one salmon fillet per maw. In a snug saucepan just large enough to accommodate the fillets in a single layer, add an equal mix of white wine and water to cover. Add 6 peppercorns, some chopped green herb stems (I used parsley and dill), a bay leaf, a chopped celery rib, and a small chopped onion or shallot.

Bring this slowly to a simmer, and cook gently for 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to cool in the stock.

To make the lentil salad, put 80g Puy lentils per person in a saucepan, and add enough of the strained stock from the salmon to cover by a finger's width. Top up with water if necessary. Bring to the boil and then reduce the heat and cook, uncovered, for around 35 minutes until the lentils are cooked. Watch the stock level, but ideally the liquid should have mostly evaporated by the end of cooking. Drain.

While the lentils are cooking, make a mirepoix of 1 carrot, 1 celery rib and 1 onion. Sweat gently in 2 tbps olive oil for 10 minutes until softened. Add ½ tsp chili pepper flakes, a handful of finely diced button mushrooms, and cook gently for a further 10 minutes until the mushrooms give up some of their liquid. Now add the cooked lentils, a bunch of finely chopped parsley, a tsp of finely chopped sage leaves, 1 crushed garlic clove, a little crumbled feta and 1 tomato, also finely chopped. Season generously, add a glug of olive oil.

To make the pink sauce, mix 1 heaped tsp Erős Pista with 1 tbsp tejföl. You poor foreigners can substitute these for harissa and crème fraiche accordingly.

To serve, place a piece of salmon atop a mound of lentils. Spoon a good heaped teaspoon of pink sauce over the salmon.

Born up a tree.