Coffee and café culture has reached unprecedented popularity in the Western world and coffee drinkers tend to be passionate about their beverage of choice. Given the level of emotional commitment, it’s not surprising that coffee drinkers would also be increasingly concerned with the welfare of the farmers, as shown by the rising prominence of schemes such as Fair Trade.

Black Gold, a new feature documentary on the subject of the vast chasm between the incomes of coffee farmers and the profits of large coffee companies, screened on More 4 last night. I missed it but it’s playing again this Saturday and I hope to see it as I find coffee a truly fascinating subject. I worked as a volunteer in a coffee growing region of Costa Rica when I was 20 and in my travel writing career I have visited coffee farms in Uganda, Tanzania and Papua New Guinea (you can see some of the resulting articles on my travel site Roaming Tales). There is no doubt that coffee can be an immensely powerful social force and that more can be done to encourage this.

Millions of people around the world make their living in some way from coffee (such as this family in the PNG Highlands, pictured left). It’s the lifeblood of communities in many developing countries, even when it’s not the biggest export. (Coffee is tiny in PNG compared with mining or logging, for example, but it’s actually ordinary people who benefit). The average person with a small plot of land will grow food for the family and a few coffee trees to bring in cash for school fees, medicine and so on. In the 1980s, when coffee prices were high, small growers could even send their children to private school and university on the proceeds from coffee. Now there is greater global competition and prices are much lower but it’s still a crop of immense social significance.

I am curious to see what the documentary itself is like because quite honestly, I find the arguments put forward by producers on The Guardian’s Word of Mouth blog to be somewhat simplistic.

“Farmers we’ve spoken to find it patronising that huge corporations give money to charitable projects while they pay farmers an extremely low price. ‘Why not pay us a decent price’, they say, ‘and we’ll decide where to spend our money’.

Real change will only come when countries like Ethiopia capture the value-chain of coffee. Not just growing and picking beans but processing, roasting and exporting the finished product on to the shelves of our supermarkets.

Until then, the only way to make informed choices is to know how much is going back to the grower.”

Well, yes and no. Coffee companies spend money on aid and charity is because it’s tax deductible and it makes a nice corporate social responsibility story. However, it’s also because it’s practical and possible. Coffee is a commodity traded on an exchange so the base prices are not directly under the control of anyone, from coffee exporter to coffee shop chain. There are circumstances when it is possible to pay higher prices but it’s not easy to do.

There is no doubt that it would be nice for farmers to get a better deal but it’s also important to recognise the reasons why they don’t. You can’t change something without properly understanding the nature of the problem.

1. Moving up the value chain is not easy

It’s true that most coffee exporting companies are foreign owned and I would welcome it if countries such as Ethiopia started their own. It would benefit the Ethiopian economy, though it would not necessarily mean a better deal for farmers, unless the export company was actually owned by a farmers’ co-operative and the co-operative was actually well run.

It’s not practical to say that Ethiopian companies set up as roasters - and this is the most profitable part of the chain. Coffee loses flavour after roasting so this needs to be done as close to the consumer as possible. Also roasters are usually buying coffee from multiple sources, not just one country (single origin coffee is a niche).

2. The actual bean is only a small part of the value

It’s also true that to make an informed choice you need to know how much is going back to the grower. But you also need to know how much should go back to the grower. What are the beans actually worth, given how vastly different they are to an actual cup of coffee?

How much should the coffee exporter get for their work in travelling all over the country to buy the coffee, then the wet processing, the drying, the sorting, then selling to buyers abroad? Bear in mind that they employ a lot of local staff (such as these women at an export company in Uganda, pictured left) and take the business risk because if they can’t sell the coffee, they lose money.

How much should the roaster be paid for sourcing the beans, roasting them, packaging them, marketing and advertising, liaising with retailers and coffee shops, not to mention the higher overheads that come with a base in Europe or North America?

How much should a coffee shop in London get, bearing in mind profits will only come once they’ve covered the extortionate cost of rent in this city, electricity, insurance and wage costs?

3. Coffee is a commodity

It’s a phrase that’s often bandied around but I mean that in the literal sense. The price of coffee fluctuates according to commodity traders on the coffee exchanges in New York or London (depending on whether you are talking about Robusta or Arabica). It’s exactly the same process that sets the price for wheat and oil, for example. When coffee prices collapse it’s usually because of over-supply - countries that never previously grew coffee such as Vietnam now produce vast quantities of the stuff.

4. Don’t blame the coffee exporter

I have been privileged enough to meet coffee growers, coffee exporters and roasters and understand a bit about the economics of each piece of the puzzle.

If you are a coffee exporter it is very difficult to offer a higher price than the market rate because you have to be able to sell the beans on to a roaster in Europe or the US or wherever the end market is. You probably have a competitor just down the road more than willing to undercut your prices. Coffee exporters don’t make huge margins - the roasters (who brand and sell the coffee) sit at the most profitable part of the value chain.

However, in order to convince the roasters to pay more for their coffee, there needs to be an assurance that the money would benefit growers not just exporters, and that it could pass the cost on to consumers in some way, either through a quality premium or through an appeal to the social conscience. Certification schemes play a valuable role on both counts.

5. Quality premiums are hard to get

Coffee exporters can sometimes attract a premium - which is passed on to growers - for coffee of a particular quality but that means hard work and risk for both the coffee exporter and the grower. The export companies have to work with farmers - visiting farms all over the country in person to teach them pruning, harvesting and drying techniques. They have to convince the farmers that it’s worth their while to make the extra effort. They run the risk that another exporter or a middleman will buy the crop before them and cash in on the work. They also run the risk that they will pay the premium to farmers and then the roasters will reject the coffee and not pay the promised price, leaving them out of pocket.

If the premium is specifically for organic coffee there is also the risk the farmers breaking the rules and being de-certified. (Aid organisations can also be incredibly unhelpful here - I know of a case in Mount Elgon in Uganda where after several years of hard work on the part of farmers and a local cooperative, the area had been collectively certified for organic. Apparently USAid then showed up and, rather than go around the other side of the mountain where the coffee farmers were not yet organised, they muscled in and drove around handing out free chemicals to organic coffee farmers).

The best quality coffee comes when red cherry is picked off the tree and sent to the factory for processing on the same day. It ensures the coffee is fresh and the processing is controlled and consistent. But most coffee farms are remote and it can take days for the coffee to reach the exporter. So farmers need to dry the coffee cherry to parchment stage themselves - we’re talking smallholders with a family to feed and the coffee is exposed to the elements and often dried on the ground - if they’re really lucky they might have a tarpaulin, which reduces the contact with the ground but does nothing to protect it from the chickens and small children running across the beans or the rain and wind. It’s going to be a hard sell to get a premium price for this coffee!

6. Growing coffee is not a full-time job

The prices that coffee farmers get vary wildly. In Uganda, where land pressure is high, a farmer (such as this one, pictured left) might only have half an acre of land and he has to grown food to feed his family as well as coffee. He might earn $US200 per year from coffee to support a family of nine - although he is likely to own his land and grow enough food to feed his family, that still does not leave much surplus for school fees, medicine, clothing, mosquito nets and so on. In PNG, a vast country with only five million people, the income from coffee is closer to $US2,000 per year for an individual farmer, though he might be supporting his brothers’ families as well.

However it is worth pointing out that nowhere, except on the large corporate estates, is coffee the main activity. Coffee farmers spend most of their time growing food and generally only grow as much coffee as they can personally cope with. The annual income is low but it’s not a fair comparison to look at it as a wage as it’s not a full-time job.

7. Certification schemes do work

The main problem with certification schemes is that there so many of them. In the UK we’re most familiar with Fair Trade and organics, but there’s also Rainforest Alliance, Utz Certified (formerly Utz Kapeh), and a host of others.. Certification pays off with higher prices but it costs time and money to get certified and you have to take a punt on which scheme is best. Fortunately, if you meet the standards for one, it’s usually fairly easy to meet the standards for another, and increasingly you can get the same inspector to conduct multiple certifications.

Fair Trade focuses on the social side. The idea is that it pays a minimum that is above the cost of production so that even if commodity coffee prices fall dramatically, the farmer is guaranteed an income. The rest of the time, the Fair Trade price is always a certain margin above the traded price - and there is also a social premium that is invested back in the community (and the community decides where it is spent).

Rainforest Alliance has some social criteria but is also very concerned with the environmental side. Deforestation is a big issue in countries such as Uganda, mostly because of land pressure, and Rainforest Alliance is concerned to ensure that coffee farmers keep shade trees that provide bird and wildlife habitat.

Utz has similarities to both but is a bigger name in mainland Europe than the UK.

Finally, organic certification is primarily about how the coffee is grown rather than social justice, though many organic products are also Fair Trade and vice versa. To be certified organic, the grower has to show not just that they don’t use chemical fertilisers and pesticides but also that they are improving the soil naturally. (Organic farming is a great way to lock carbon into the soil for exactly this reason). I was really impressed with the small organic farm I saw in Uganda - it had nothing to do with my hosts, but was just a small farmer with a few coffee trees who used manure from the cows and droppings from the rabbit hutch (pictured) as natural fertiliser, and also had lots of leaves to mulch the ground, which locks in water and soil nutrients. Elsewhere I saw lots of farms where the soil was overly weeded and quite bare so it was quite a striking difference.

Choosing certified coffee is a great way to ensure that more of the money goes back to the farmer and also that communities and the natural environment also benefit. However, there are some concerns about quality - my favourite coffee shop in London is Monmouth Coffee Company, which is also a roaster. They don’t buy certified Fair Trade because they have been unhappy with the quality of samples in the past, but they have their own rigorous standards. At the other end of the scale, Nespresso, which is the premium brand of Nestlé, also does not embrace Fair Trade but has its own AAA programme, focusing on both quality and sustainability. The problem is that an internal scheme is not as transparent and accountable for consumers, but it’s a case of deciding whether you trust the companies in question.

The Black Gold post is highly critical of chains such as Starbucks. So am I, but for different reasons.

“These companies fail to disclose how much they pay the coffee growers and attempts by the media to find actual prices have largely failed. But they continue to hi-jack the language of fair trade and sustainability.”

The reason I don’t like coffee chains is because they generally sell overpriced crappy coffee. Starbucks buys some of the best coffee in the world but as far as I’m concerned they don’t make it well - you have to order a double just to get any taste at all. And Starbucks is miles better than some of its chain competitors like Caffe Nero and Costa.

But say what you like about Starbucks and their ilk, I don’t think they should be criticised for their stance on fair trade and sustainability. They don’t “hi-jack” the words - they sell certified Fair Trade coffee and the fact that they do this benefits farmers and educates consumers at the same time.

Our champion for England is Julia from the A Slice of Cherry Pie food blog. She has made the Full English Breakfast and has even gone the whole hog (literally) with the inclusion of black pudding.

I was delighted when Caitlin asked me if I would represent England in her Global Breakfast Tournament and immediately I knew the dish I would have to enter would be the Full English Breakfast, or ‘the fry up’ as it’s also known. We’re very lucky in Britain to enjoy a wide range of breakfasts from around the world, whether a croissant and latte grabbed on the way to the office, a bowl of muesli or even kedgeree. Toast and a cup of tea features heavily in British homes at breakfast time, as does cereal, but ask most Brits what the ultimate breakfast is here in the UK and the answer will be a resounding ‘the fry up!’. Now I know what you’re thinking; “Greasy, artery-blocking, heavy fried breakfasts served in greasy spoon cafes, well they may be classically British but what’s so great about them?”. Well, read on!

The great British fry up has regional variances across the country; in Ireland you may find white pudding or soda bread, in Scotland haggis or potato scones are often included and in Wales lava bread may feature. But regardless of where you are in the UK, at the heart of this fantastic breakfast you’ll pretty much always find bacon, eggs and sausages. Being from England, I’ve cooked the Full English Breakfast for my entry. After the bacon, eggs and sausages, generally any combination of mushrooms, eggs, tomatoes, hash browns, baked beans, fried bread and black pudding are added, sometimes with toast on the side for the very hungry. Eggs are sometimes scrambled, but more commonly fried and served runny, and you can’t beat the delight of that first burst of the egg as you dip in a piece of sausage or toast into that gloriously yellow yolk. In my research for this entry I’ve found that black pudding is something of a contentious issue. Many people insist that a full English breakfast must include it but quite a few people really dislike it and many don’t even get as far as trying it, being repulsed by the idea of a sausage made from blood. I have to say I don’t usually include it in my breakfast, but as I continued my research and spoke to various people it soon became very apparent that I would be committing blasphemy of the gravest kind if I didn’t include it for this post. So I made an exception and there it is, right next to the bacon, tomatoes and beans!

As always, the best ingredients will give the best dish. If you use poor quality ingredients you’ll get a poor quality breakfast, simple. So choose large free-range eggs, preferably organic, fresh ripe tomatoes, flavoursome mushrooms, thickly cut bacon and good quality black sausage from your butcher. And now for a few rules, meant light-heartedly but taken seriously by many; baked beans must be Heinz baked beans, sausages must be British, fat and juicy, and whether you prefer brown sauce or tomato sauce the choice can only be between Heinz ketchup and HP sauce.

Let’s talk about fat content for a minute. Now I do concede that the Full English isn’t the healthiest of breakfasts, not by a long shot, and if you eat it every day you’re going to pile on the pounds and give your arteries a challenge. But it really isn’t eaten every day by your average Brit. It’s something to be enjoyed in moderation, a real treat, generally eaten on an occasional weekend when there is more time to potter in the kitchen and really enjoy this hearty breakfast, or when staying in a hotel or bed and breakfast somewhere across the country. Those very concerned about the fat content could grill instead of fry, and many people do, but if you’re looking for true authenticity only the frying pan will do. You don’t need much fat for frying at all; some will come out of the bacon and sausages, and olive oil is a good choice, being healthier than most fats. After frying place the bacon and sausages on kitchen paper to soak up the excess fat before serving it.

So just what is it about this part of the British institution that makes it so special and dear to the hearts of so many Brits? Well let me see, could it be the gentle sound of the sizzling in the pan, the smell of the bacon and sausages making your tummy ache or the oozing yellow egg yolk? Maybe it’s the taste of the mushrooms or the sweet, warm tomatoes that burst in your mouth, or the taste combinations, different with each mouthful. Could it be the way this hearty breakfast fills your tummy, warms you up and puts a contented smile on your face as you read the Sunday papers? Or perhaps it’s the fact that this breakfast reminds us so much of home and makes us proud to be British; after all, whilst there are many fantastic breakfasts all around the world, no one can do a fried breakfast like the British. Whatever it is, I really don’t think that there’s a better way to start the day.

Forced rhubarb is available in England at this time of year. It’s notable mainly for the stunning colour, which ranges from pale pink to fuschia. The main crop rhubarb, which comes later in spring, is a darker, cherry red.

This month’s In the Bag event, which focuses on seasonal eating, has forced rhubarb as the star ingredient, along with orange and sugar. (Last month, the theme was pears, almonds and lemon and you can see my effort here and all the other recipes over on the A Slice of Cherry Pie blog, which hosts the event).

There is a debate among cooks about the best way to cook rhubarb and what the desired consistency is. Some cooks go to great lengths to ensure that rhubarb holds its shape. Recently I had a rhubarb trifle at Alastair Little’s in London, which featured small, defined chunks of rhubarb. Angela on A Spoonful of Sugar recommends oven poaching rhubarb to ensure this effect.

“This is the only way to cook rhubarb in my opinion. It preserves the gorgeous colour of the rhubarb and also keeps the shape of each piece intact - I suspect that many a child has been put off rhubarb by being served stewed rhubarb which is generally a rather dubiously coloured puree with stringy bits in it.”

I don’t subscribe to this school of thought. There’s certainly an aesthetic difference and some people think it is prettier with the rhubarb intact. However, I think that it compromises the flavour. Rhubarb is very tart and requires sweetening. I believe the rhubarb needs to fall apart in order to blend properly with the sugar - otherwise you end up with chunks of tart rhubarb sitting in syrup.

To my mind, the best and simplest way to cook rhubarb is to slice it into small chunks about 2cm long. This counteracts the stringiness, which usually comes from the cook trying to stew huge long chunks of rhubarb. Then put it in a pot with the juice of half an orange, stirring occasionally to prevent it sticking to the bottom. Do not add any water as the rhubarb will release water when cooking. If you are not using the orange juice, you could add a couple of tablespoons of water but that’s all. When the rhubarb is soft and starting to lose its shape, add sugar. How much sugar depends on your personal taste and the flavour of the rhubarb, but I used about 50g (half a metric cup) for 400g rhubarb and that seemed about right. Adding the sugar at the end, rather than during cooking, helps preserve the colour (as you can see in the picture).

The cooked rhubarb is lovely served hot with vanilla ice cream or cooled and mixed with custard or whipped cream (or yogurt if you’re trying to be healthy!) to make a rhubarb fool. The blend of tartness and sweetness is sublime, and fruit and cream is a classic that is hard to beat.

Rhubarb & Orange Cream Pudding

The whole point of these events is challenge and innovation, so I decided to try something new. (It also requires the rhubarb to be puréed, thus side-stepping the whole texture debate). I based this dessert on my aunt’s orange flummerie but I had to alter the recipe to accommodate the stewed rhubarb, which is not pure liquid. I also decided to made this with agar agar rather than gelatine. Agar agar is a flavourless Japanese gelling agent made from seaweed and it’s a vegetarian substitute for gelatine.

This recipe is also surprisingly low in calories and fat. There is sugar and cream but the recipe serves 4, so each person is getting 12.5g sugar (50 calories) and 12.5g double cream (55.6 calories; 5.9g fat).

Ingredients

Forced rhubarb, 400g

One orange, juiced and half zested

Caster sugar, 50g (adjust quantity to taste)

Agar agar, 2 tablespoons

Water

Greek yogurt, 50g

Double cream, 50g

Blanched almonds or hazelnuts to serve (optional)

Method

1. Wash and chop rhubarb into 2cm chunks. Cook with half the orange juice, according to the instructions above, then stir in the sugar. Leave to cool. (This step can be done in advance).
2. Blend the rhubarb in a food processor.
3. Pour 1 cup (250ml) water into a small saucepan and sprinkle with agar agar flakes without stirring. Heat and then simmer for 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally.
4. Add the rest of the orange juice and one teaspoon of orange zest to the rhubarb and top up with a little water to make 1 cup (250ml)
5. Pour the hot water and agar agar into the rhubarb and orange mix and stir thoroughly. Leave to cool.
6. Once it is tepid to cool, spoon in the yogurt and cream, and fold it into the jelly mix, which will be starting to set.
7. Transfer to 4 serving bowls or glasses, and cover with plastic food wrap before transferring to the fridge.
8. Serve with a garnish of blanched almonds or hazelnuts.

Notes

This was my first time using agar agar and it worked very well but it sets a lot more quickly than gelatine. You can’t fold in the dairy until it’s cool (or the dairy will curdle), but leave it too long and the jelly will already be solid. Check after about 20 minutes.

If you prefer to use gelatine, then you will need to read the instructions as the ratio of liquid to gelatine may be different. You will need to add enough gelatine based on the rhubarb being liquid, but dissolve the crystals in boiling water. You could also use packet jelly if you prefer but would suggest lemon flavour is best as it is not too sweet.

Results

The pudding was a pretty pale pink and tasted sweet and tangy. The texture was creamy and mostly smooth, with the occasional fleck of orange zest or titbit of rhubarb. It reminded me a little of the mango puddings you get in Chinese restaurant, though not quite as sweet (I believe they use sweetened condensed milk).

Everyone is familiar with Mexican food in some guise but usually what we get in the English speaking world and Europe is actually Tex-Mex - an Americanised version of Mexican food. I’m told that nachos, for example, is not traditional in Mexico, that the burritos are usually smaller and skimpier on the fillings, and that tacos have soft shells.

In Sydney, nachos were ubiquitous on café menus throughout most of the 1990s, though the trend seems to have died off now. They might not be traditional but they were very good - a rich spicy red kidney bean stew, crunchy corn chips, melted cheese and spicy homemade guacamole. Imagine my disappointment when I went to the United States for the first time and encountered the liquid cheese horror of Taco Bell!

That is not fair, of course. The US has some fabulous Mexican - or Tex-Mex - food. I encountered it in Brooklyn, in Mexican Town in Detroit, and of course, in California where the cuisine really comes into its own.

In London, one of my favourite places for a burrito is the Daddy Donkey cart on the Leather Lane street market in Clerkenwell. It’s not cheap - it costs around £5 - but they keep the quality of their ingredients very high. You can get either a wrap or a salad bowl and they have chicken, beef, pork or vegetarian options. The meat is always tender, the salad crisp, the guacamole fresh and tangy, and the black beans and rice marvellously satisfying. Buy it to take back to your desk or grab a seat on one of the picnic tables beside the van.

Restaurant Review: Taqueria

Sometimes you want to sit down for a meal and the sad truth is that London is starved of good Mexican restaurants. Enter Taqueria in Notting Hill.

I have never been to Mexico but I’m pretty sure that the food here is as authentic as you’ll get outside Mexico. It’s quite unlike any Mexican food I’ve had anywhere else, with homemade tacos and light, fresh toppings.

The website says the restaurant makes everything from scratch, from Mexican chorizo to the hot chocolate, which is ground in house. They go to great length to source Mexican ingredients - the parent company, Cool Chile Co imports dried chiles and herbs, masa harina (tortilla corn flour), corn husks and pozole (a stew made from hominy - a type of dried maize) directly from Mexico, while the Mexican chiles are from Dorset-based Peppers by Post. They use organic chickens, British meats and cheeses to supplement the Mexican ingredients.

The food is very good indeed. The best thing to get are the tacos, which come in pairs. If you have a group of people you can order an assortment of tacos and try a few different flavours. The portions are not huge so you will need 2-4 tacos per person, depending on whether you have appetisers or dessert as well. Flavours include “carnitas” (shredded slow-cooked pork, green salsa, diced onion, coriander), “spinacas y queso” (browned cheese with spinach and red salsa on large tortillas) and “camaron” beer-battered prawns, avocado mash, chipotle mayonnaise, Mexican salsa, limey shredded cabbage, doubled tortillas. Vegetarians are catered for but the selection is not overly large.

For the drinks, I recommend the Horchata, a rice milk drink flavoured with almond and cinnamon. It’s sweet and smooth and quite delicious. The Flor de Jamaica, or hibiscus juice, is quite nice as well, tasting, not surprisingly, quite like hibiscus tea.

It will be difficult to leave without doing dessert as well. My favourite is the “plátanos con cajeta”. A banana split by another name, it features fried plantain (cooking banana), coconut ice cream, cajeta (goats milk toffee) and toasted almonds. It is simply perfect. There is also a hibiscus pudding, ice cream or sorbet, and the classic option of churros (doughnut sticks) with Mexican hot chocolate.

The service is occasionally patchy but generally good and it’s always friendly. Aside from a slightly overdone taco on my last visit, the quality of the food is exceptional.

Taqueria
Address: 139-143 Westbourne Grove, London W11 2RS
Tel: +44 (0)20 7229 4734
Web: www.coolchiletaqueria.co.uk

Mexico is my third country to feature on my UN food challenge, after Ghana and New Zealand. There are 189 countries to go…

This is my entry for the monthly Waiter There’s Something in My… event. This month it is hosted by Andrew at Spittoon Extra and the theme is salad. He’s called for the salad to be seasonal if possible and for me in England that means a winter salad.

I eat a lot of salad at any time of year and I don’t generally follow too much of a recipe. The joy of a salad, as with a soup, is that I can use whatever is to hand. I recently made a fabulous salad with roast beetroot (following the Sophie Grigson method), clementine (small, sweet citrus fruit similar to mandarins), roast red pepper, pine nuts, lettuce, shallots and salad cress in a lemon and olive oil dressing. I have also been eating bufalo mozzarella with avocado, sweet green tomato, basil and a drizzle of olive oil on crisp bread, for lunch.

This week I bought some delectably creamy and sharp Devon Blue cheese from the deli and I wanted to base a salad around that. My mind leapt immediately to the ripe pears we had at home. My favourite variety is the conference pear, because it has the best flavour and it seems to stay in an optimal state - ripe but firm - for days, while other varieties seem to move from crunchy to slushy or brown too quickly.

What else would go with the blue cheese and the pears? Walnuts, of course, and the nice green lettuce with the wavy leaves in the fridge at home. Then, at the last minute, the addition of the roast parsnip and celeriac chips leftover from last night’s dinner. (I had  parboiled handcut wedges of parsnip and celeriac and then roasted them with vegetable oil, salt and pepper). The salad was lightly coated with dressing of balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

Balsamic vinegar is an attention seeker and should be used in moderation. Most people, restaurants included, use too much of it and end up overpowering the other ingredients. You need just a hint of it to add to the bouquet of flavours - I mixed equal parts of olive oil and balsamic vinegar in a jar and then used just two teaspoons of the mix for the salad. You need enough to coat the leaves, but if you end up with liquid at the bottom of the bowl, then you’ve used too much.

The salad was a wonderful mix of flavours and texture. The star ingredients were the blue cheese and the sweet, firm pear, which made a glorious combination. The walnuts, which I crumbled with my hands, were creamy and sweet, and the substance of the root vegetables was a nice counterpoint to the light, crunchy leaves.

The lettuce, parsnip and celeriac were organic from my weekly vegetable box. The pears were British grown from Waitrose, though not organic. The blue cheese is from Devon and bought from a small shop in my local area. The only imported ingredients were the olive oil and balsamic vinegar, both from Italy, though the olive oil was organic, and the walnuts, organically grown in India.

For more winter salad inspiration, I like the look of this beet salad on Sugar Plum.

Who can resist these beautiful macaroons from Yauatcha? See how pretty they are in their box with all the different colours lined up. Even the packaging - a hard box with a ribbon and a frosted stiff plastic bag - is gorgeous.

After reading about the macaroons in Time Out and blogging about them yesterday, our fate was sealed. We had to try them out. It’s an enormously decadent treat - one box of 18 macaroons cost about £25 - but oh boy, are they good. So far we’ve tried a blue one with a blackcurrant filling, a white speckled one with a sesame paste, and a green tea-flavoured one.

At those prices, I can’t see us bringing them home terribly often, but they would make a lovely gift for someone. Meanwhile, I’m definitely going to try making them.

Yauatcha
Address: 15-17 Broadwick St, W1F 0DL
Tel: +44 (0)20 7494 8888
Tube: Oxford Circus or Piccadilly Circus

• * Get cheesy! My friend Jessica who blogs over at Ripe London has written a lovely piece for Times Online on the art of constructing a good cheese platter. Or you could do as the Americans do (or some of them at least) and carve your cheese rather than eat it - Word of Mouth has the details. And Lee at The Unbearable Lightness of being Hungry has blogged about how cheese healed the britpop rift between Blur and Oasis. (Woo hoo!).

• * I have been posting a lot about pancakes recently, but who can resist these poppyseed darlings on 101 Cookbooks? They look delicious! There are instructions for both dessert or savoury versions.

• * Attention coffee drinkers! Science blog Developing Intelligence tells you how to optimise your caffeine hit - small, regular doses are key. (Link via LifeHacker).

• * Travel blog The Window Seat has a guide on how to eat like a local, wherever you are in the world. Not surprisingly, it talks a lot about farmers’ markets - and here is Ivy at Kopiaste’s description of her local farmers’ market in Athens.

• * Apple & Spice celebrates its first birthday with, what else, a spiced apple cake. Mmm… looks delicious! Happy birthday! By the way, you can see a recipe for my namesake here.

• * I gave my recipe for spinach pie earlier in the week. Here’s Rose’s recipe at You Say Tomahto, I Say Tomayto - she has used puff pastry, only 100g of spinach, and ricotta, while I used filo, a whole bunch of chard, and both feta and cottage cheese, so the result would be very different, but I’m sure no less delicious. Rose, who is part Maltese, calls her version “Maltese spinach pie”. I’ve called mine “Greek” (though I’m not Greek), but really variations on this recipe can be found all over the eastern Mediterranean - my friend Tamara from Sydney makes the same dish and calls it “Bosnian pie”.

• * I’m loving the increased coverage of food and drink in Time Out London. This week the mag takes lessons on how to make macaroons from the pastry chef at Soho tearoom Yauatcha and shares the recipe.

My mother sent me off to university with a folder full of her recipes, including this one for spinach pie. It’s one of my very favourite meals and always a hit in my household. I love the combination of sweet spinach with rich, salty feta, wrapped in delicious flaky pastry.

You can use the same filling for cheese and spinach triangles, which make great party food. I usually make a pie, which is less fiddly and makes a good vegetarian main course. It’s actually incredibly easy - about 20 minutes prep and then it bakes in the oven for 45 minutes to an hour.

Spinach and friends

The pie is named after Popeye’s favourite food but you can actually use a variety of leaves, not just spinach. The term “spinach” has different meanings in different countries anyway.

In Australia, there is a vegetable with white stems and shiny, rippled, dark green leaves that tastes very similar to spinach. Australians often call this “spinach” or, when they are being precise, they call it “silverbeet”. True spinach is usually called “English spinach”.

In the UK, “English spinach” is just called “spinach”. It’s fine to use this, though I would recommend you get the adult leaves if you can. The baby spinach leaves used for salad are expensive and the flavour is not as strong, which is great for eating them raw but not so suitable for cooking. I have also tried frozen spinach and this works fine but the flavour is not as good.

You can also get “silverbeet” in the UK except here it’s called “Swiss chard”. There is also a variant called “rainbow chard”, which has a bright red stem and some red colouring on the mostly green leaves. You can use either type and the taste will be similar, but obviously the rainbow version will add pretty red streaks to the white and green of the pie filling.

Last year I did a food writing course at the Arvon Foundation with Sophie Grigson and Alastair Hendy. With eight budding food writers on the course, plus our tutors and the Arvon staff, we ate fabulous meals almost every night. Since we had vegetarians on the course, I contributed this pie to one of the meals. We had a bit of a shortage of either chard or spinach but Sophie taught me that you can use the stems and leaves of beetroot. Meanwhile, John who works at Arvon, taught me that you can use the tender new leaves of stinging nettle, and we actually went out the back of the farmhouse in Devon where the Arvon courses are taught and collected nettle to add to the pie.

Sophie suggested it should really be called “green pie”, but I persist in calling it “spinach pie” since that’s what I grew up calling it, and I think it’s more meaningful to most people.

My personal preference is to use silverbeet/chard, which has a sweeter flavour than English spinach, and I use the stems as well, finely sliced to give it extra texture and flavour. Some spinach pie recipes use ricotta but I prefer my version, with feta and cottage cheese.

Pastry and friends

A friend in Austria told me that he makes his filo from scratch. This impresses me enormously but it’s a highly specialist skill so I do recommend you buy filo - this is what most professionals do anyway. Filo is generally for sale in both the refrigerated section and frozen aisle of the supermarket. I prefer the refrigerated kind as it’s ready to work with immediately. If you can only find the frozen kind, you will need to let it thaw as it is very brittle when frozen. Don’t try microwaving it as the pastry will stick together and turn into glue! It sometimes comes in two sizes - buy the bigger one if possible, but you can get pretty good results by layering smaller sheets if necessary.

It is essential to brush oil or melted butter between each sheet of pastry as this is what gives it the lovely flaky layered effect. Otherwise the pastry sticks together in clumps and is quite dull. My mother always used melted butter but I generally use oil as it’s healthier and also easier since you don’t have to melt it first. I’ve been told that egg whites are a substitute but this didn’t work for me - I just wound up with all the pastry sticking together in one ultra crunchy sheet. I’ve also been told that a mix of whole eggs and milk beaten together can also work - this worked better but was not wholly satisfactory either. I would say stick to oil and if you are trying to reduce fat, you could probably get away with only brushing every second sheet.

Recipe

Ingredients

Filo pastry, 12 sheets

Oil (olive oil is nice but any plain cooking oil is fine) or melted butter, 100g

Spinach or silverbeet/chard or other green leaves, 2 bunches or 1 generous bunch

Plain cottage cheese, 200g

Feta cheese, 200g (chopped into small cubes)

Eggs, 3 (it doesn’t really matter if they are medium or large but do buy free range or organic if you can!)

Garlic, 1 clove (crushed or finely chopped)

Salt and pepper

Method

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180C.
2. Rinse the spinach well. Plunge it into boiling water for a minute or two and then drain. Leave to cool and then ring the leaves out by hand to remove as much liquid as possible.
3. Mix the eggs, feta, cottage cheese, garlic, and salt and pepper in a bowl. Mix in the leaves.
4. Take a rectangular baking dish and layer six sheets of pastry, brushing oil or melted butter between each sheet.
5. Spoon the spinach and cheese on top of the pastry and spread evenly.
6. Add another six layers of pastry, brushing oil between each layer and on the top sheet (this will make it brown).
7. Bake in the oven until golden brown. This will take at least 45 minutes and may take up to an hour and 15 minutes depending on your oven. You can turn up the oven a little but not too much as you want the filling to cook through without burning the pastry.
8. Serves four to six people. It’s nice with a green salad or some roast pumpkin/squash.

I hope you enjoy it! This is definitely something that I would recommend trying and you can make adjustments to suit your own taste and lifestyle.

When I grew up in Australia in 1980s, beetroot was something that came on a hamburger and it was always canned. Even now, I think fresh beets are quite rare in Australia.

I’ve always loved beetroot but it wasn’t until I came to the UK that I realised quite how good it can be. When I first came I was quite impressed with the vacuum packs of beets because of the freshness and sweetness of the taste, compared with the canned product, which is generally boiled in malt vinegar. This is because vinegar is a preserving agent but food writer Sophie Grigson calls this “abuse” and she has a point as the vinegar seriously affects the flavour of the beets, which are naturally sweet.
However, if you really want to know how good beets can be, you need to make your own - the results are far superior. I get a weekly box of organic fruit and vegetables from Abel & Cole and beetroots make a regular appearance. I have also discovered other varieties of beetroot on my forays to Borough Market (one of my favourite places in London). As well as the deep red-purple variety we all know, there are also golden beetroots and candy beetroots with an exquisite pattern of white and pink cocentric circles (pictured). The other cool thing about beetroot is that the stems and leaves are also edible and make a nice substitute for spinach or chard (silverbeet) in most recipes.

One of my favourite things to do with beetroot is to make a salad. All you do is chop the ends of the beet and peel it and then grate the beet. You also grate a carrot. Then you toss the grated beet and carrot together with a lemon and olive oil dressing and two teaspoons of sunflower seeds. You get the deeper flavour of the beet combined with the sweetness of the carrot, the nuttiness of the seeds, the acidity of the lemon, all coated in a light layer of extra virgin olive oil. Delicious and healthy too.

I also often roast beetroot. Usually I peel the beet and cut into chunks, then toss with oil, salt and pepper and perhaps some rosemary, before roasting it in the oven. Half a beetroot takes about an hour to cook using this method and smaller chunks closer to half an hour. It’s far quicker than roasting potatoes or most other root vegetables.

I did try boiling beetroot in salted water once and it worked fine but was nothing special.

Tonight I had a bit of time on my hands so I thought I would try Sophie Grigson’s method of oven roasting whole beets wrapped in foil and then peeling them afterwards. I’ve wanted to try this for a while but it does take quite a bit longer than other methods, so this was the first time. This is from her 2006 book Vegetables, which is an excellent accompaniment to any kitchen but particularly useful for households who participate in a vegetable box scheme. This is from the general introductory section to the chapter on beetroots.

Beetroot - Cooking

“Although it is not the only way to cook beetroot, by far the best general method is to roast them, guarding all their juiciness and flavour. For most purposes, the process is as follows: wash the beetroots well (but don’t scrub brutally, which will rupture the skin) and trim off the leaves, leaving about 2cm (3/4 inch) of stalk in place to minimise bleeding. Do not trim off the root. Wrap each beetroot individually in foil, place in a roasting tin or ovenproof dish and slide into a preheated oven. For the finest results the temperature should be fairly low - say around 150C/300F/Gas 2. You should allow 2-3 hours for the beetroots to cook. They will still turn out well at a higher temperature if you want to speed matters up a little, or have something else cooking in the oven - anything up to 200C/400F/Gas 6 will do nicely. To test, unwrap one of the larger beetroot and scrape gently at the skin near the root. When it comes away easily, the beetroots are done. Take them out and cool slightly, then unwrap and skin each one…”

Beetroot - Partners

“Despite, or perhaps even because of, its distinctive presence, beetroot has an affinity with a remarkable number of other ingredients. In eastern Europe, where it is used most famously to create borscht - beetroot soup in several different forms - beetroot is often combined with aniseed flavours (fennel seed, aniseed, dill and so on) and with soured cream. Try serving cubes of hot cooked beetroot tossed with fresh dilland butter, or fry it briefly with cubes of eating apple and bruised fennel seeds, then serve topped with a spoonful of soured cream (or stir creme fraiche, not soured cream, which will split, into the pan to make a light sauce). Cooked beetroot (puréed or finely diced) is also a brilliant addition to mashed potato, turning it a startling bright pink, which will wow children as much as it amuses parents…”

Road test

Of course, Sophie has far more to say on the subject of beetroot but I thought that was a good starting point. I followed her instructions on roasting the beetroot to the letter and then I interpreted her suggestions for how to serve it, according to the ingredients I had to hand. I went with the suggestion of fennel as a good flavour partner and used mayonnaise rather than creme fraiche or sour cream. There’s no point doing this with cheap mayonnaise as that would ruin the flavour - you need to either make your own or buy the most expensive, unadulterated product you can find.

Ingredients
3 beetroots, including one candy beetroot
1 head of fennel
1 shallot
Tablepoon of mayonnaise (I used Delouis Fils brand of French mayonnaise)
Salt and pepper

Method
Sophie’s instructions were very easy to follow. I had the temperature at 160C for one hour and then moved it up to 200C for the second hour. They peeled easily though I should have waited a few more minutes before I did this, as it was very hot.

Meanwhile, I chopped the fennel and shallot finely, mixed it with a tablespoon of mayonnaise and added salt and pepper.

I sliced the beetroots and served it with the mayonnaise and fennel as a condiment.

Results
The beetroots cooked beautifully using this method. Roasting them in foil and with the skins on preserves the flavour and colour but, unlike boiling, does not add an element of wateriness or acidity. They were good with the mayonnaise and fennel, though I think creme fraiche or sour cream would be even better.

I served this with a frittata, a green salad, and oven-roasted celeriac and parsnip chips. Look how pretty it is with the two varieties of beetroot - almost like a dessert!

Verdict

I would do this again when I have the time. It’s not a method that is practical for making dinner after work since it takes at least two hours to make it. But for weekends, it’s fine - the actual preparation time is minimal and the beauty is that you can put them in the oven and then more or less forget about them - perfect for pottering about the house on the weekend.

I had never considered fennel as an accompaniment but will definitely try that again. Overall it contributed to a delicious meal and was a hit with everyone in the house.

Wild Blueberry Pancakes

Our champion representing Canada in the Global Breakfast Tournament is Tamara from Muskoka in Ontario.

Over time, I’ve altered my mom’s original pancake recipe to make a version that’s a little healthier and lighter.

The trick of beating the egg white separately is something I picked up from my husband’s favourite waffle recipe. It adds “puff” to the pancakes, which helps counteract the heaviness you can encounter when you introduce whole wheat flour into a recipe.

Blueberries can be folded directly into the batter, but you often end up with purplish pancakes (tastes the same, just different aesthetic.) By dotting blueberries into the pancakes while they’re in the pan, you can preserve batter colour - and also ensure that
you end up with lots of berries in your pancake!

We love to make these pancakes during summers at the lake, when Muskoka wild blueberries are prevalent at roadside stands. The wild berries are small, but pack a lot of flavour! For authentic Canadian taste, serve drizzled with REAL maple syrup (please, not that fake substitute!), Canadian back bacon, and some fresh hot coffee.

Ingredients

1.25 cups unbleached all purpose flour
0.75 cups whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon sugar
0.5 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs
2 cups buttermilk
3 tablespoons canola oil
2 cups blueberries, sorted and rinsed
NB Measurements are imperial: 1 cup = 8 fluid ounces.

Method

1. In a large bowl, sift together the dry ingredients.
2. Separate the eggs, placing the egg whites in a clean, dry bowl. Whisk whites until soft peaks form. Set aside.
3. In another bowl, combine yolk, buttermilk, and canola until blended. Add all at once to the flour mixture, stirring gently until just combined. There will be lumps in the batter. Then carefully fold egg whites into the batter until just combined.
4. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium heat until hot enough to make a drop of water sizzle. Gently brush on a little canola oil. Carefully ladle batter into the pan - I use about a quarter cup of batter for each pancake, although sometimes the kids ask for Tinkerbell (tiny) or giant pancakes. Turn the heat down to medium-low. Get a handful of blueberries, and dot them over each pancake in the pan, gently poking the berries down a bit into the batter. Cook until bubble start to form on the tops of the pancakes, and the edges are setting. (It’s crucial to watch the temperature - if the pan is too hot, the bottoms will burn before the pancake cooks through; if the pan is too cool, the pancakes just won’t cook.) Carefully flip the pancakes and
   cook until golden on the other side.
5. Repeat with remaining batter. You may wish to quickly wipe off the skillet with a soft cloth between batches. If bits of berry are stuck to the skillet, the sugar in the fruit will start to burn and spoil your next batch. If you wish to make up all the pancakes at once before serving, cover a cookie sheet with a dishcloth, and spread out the pancakes in a single layer before putting them in a low oven to keep warm. (Stacking them will cause the pancakes to become soggy).