You know, it’s funny. For most of my life thus far, I’ve professed to be a hater of salads. I know, it’s difficult to imagine hating something as innocuous and unassuming as a salad. It wasn’t a passionate hatred; I’ve always happily munched of lettuce and veg (no dressing, please) after dinner with the rest of my family. But as something to spend time making? As something to get excited about? As something to actually pay for in a restaurant? Please, I had better things to eat.

Which makes it all the more surprising that over the last few years, I’ve become obsessed with salads. My Mum might say that this is evidence of me “growing up”, but I know better. What really sparked this change of heart was discovering that salads don’t have to have lettuce. They can have vegetables. Or legumes, or cheese, or even pasta! Suddenly, a whole new world of dishes opens up when you realise that “salad” just means “dish served cold or at room temperature”.

This particular salad is an adaption of one in Falling Cloudberries by Tessa Kiros. I reviewed this book last summer and at the time gave it three stars, though I’m beginning to think it deserves more. Lately, I want to eat everything I see in this multi-cultural gem of a book. Tessa’s Greek-inspired Chickpea and Feta Salad takes chickpeas, feta cheese, red onion, green onion, fresh herbs, lemon juice and olive oil and somehow turns it into more than the sum of its parts.

It’s not the simplest salad you’ll come across. There’s rather a lot of simmering, chopping, sautéeing and marinating to do, but it’s worth it. This is by far the best chickpea salad I’ve ever had. Even if you’re a salad hater, a chickpea hater or a feta hater, I think you should try this. I know I’ll be eating it all summer (though I might munch on the odd bit of naked lettuce, too).

• Chickpea and Feta Salad
• adapted from Falling Cloudberries by Tessa Kiros
• serves 6 as a side; 3 as a main
• 1/3 cup + 2 Tbs. olive oil
  1 leek, sliced lengthwise and chopped (white and light green parts only)
  1 small red onion, finely chopped
  1-2 red chilies, de-seeded and finely chopped
  3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  approx. 500g chickpeas, either from a can or cooked from dried
  200g feta, crumbled
  4 green onions, finely chopped (dark and light green parts only)
  1/3 cup finely chopped coriander
  2 Tbs. finely chopped mint
  zest and juice of 1 lemon
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
• 1. Heat 2 Tbs. of the olive oil in a nonstick pan over medium-low heat. Gently cook the leek and red onion for 8-10 minutes, until very soft and beginning to turn golden. Add the chili and garlic and cook for another minute or two until very fragrant- be careful not to brown the garlic. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.
  
  2. Place the chickpeas, feta, green onions, coriander, mint, lemon zest, lemon juice and remaining olive oil in a large bowl. When it’s cool enough not to melt the feta, add the mixture from the frying pan and gently stir everything to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Leave salad for at least one hour (or as many as 24) in the fridge; the flavours will meld and improve.

You’ve probably all heard of Welsh rabbit/rarebit, the delicious late-night snack and lunch dish so beloved of the British Isles. It’s a simple idea, really: take some toasted bread and top with a mixture of egg yolks and cheese (often with flavourings like chili, Worcestershire sauce or ale), and put the whole thing under the broiler until bubbly and delicious. Apply to mouth.

Well this, my friends, is Leek rarebit, its slightly healthier (in that in contains something green) cousin. I came across this idea in the recipe section of February’s Living etc magazine and immediately marked it down as a must-try. Anything that involves the triple whammy of bread, cheese and leeks just has to be delicious, right? Unfortunately I left that magazine in Canada, but luckily Jamie Oliver came to my rescue.

I made this for lunch yesterday, using the Milk & Honey bread I baked earlier this week. On first bite, the cheesy, leeky goodness damn near blew me away, and it’s probably a good thing. I’m going to need lots of ways to use up all the bread I’ll be baking this year, and this is definitely one to add to the roster.

• Leek Rarebit
• adapted from Jamie Oliver‘s Leek Rarebit
• serves 1
• 1 Tbs. olive oil
  1 medium leek, halved lengthwise and chopped (white and light green parts only)
  1/4 tsp. fresh thyme leaves, picked
  1/4 tsp. grainy mustard
  1 egg yolk
  2 Tbs. crème fraiche
  75g grated cheddar
  1/8 tsp. chili flakes
  1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
  sea salt and black pepper
  2 thick slices bread of your choice
  butter (optional)
• 1. Heat the olive oil in a small nonstick pan and gently sautée the leek and thyme leaves until soft and translucent, about 8-10 minutes. When done, remove from heat, stir in the mustard and allow to cool slightly.
  
  2. While the leek cooks, mix together the egg yolk, crème fraiche, cheese, chili flakes and Worcestershire sauce in a small bowl. Add the cooled leeks, stir well and season to taste.
  
  3. Preheat the broiler or grill to high. Toast your bread on both sides and spread with a bit of butter, if you like. Spread the leek/cheese mixture over the toast to the very edges, and place under the heat for 3-4 minutes, until bubbly and golden brown (use a baking sheet to catch drips). Serve immediately.

Lean in close, and I’ll let you in on a shameful little secret of mine: I’ve never successfully made a gratin before now. Absurd, right? The easy-peasy staple of French cooking, winter cooking and (let’s face it) 1950′s home cooking has never been my forté. Until now, that is.

It’s not as though I’ve been slaving away over a hot stove (er, oven) trying to make the perfect gratin or anything; I’ve only really tried once, and the dismal scalloped potatoes that resulted were enough to put me off the whole idea. Rather than the creamy, cheesy dish I’d tried at my sister’s, my effort- with the same, borrowed recipe, I might add- was strangely both watery and lumpy. If I’m honest, my pride was a little hurt- I’m meant to be the cook in the family, after all.

Though for some reason, cooking au gratin was on my mind last week. Maybe it was the dawn of winter, or the delicious-looking Swiss Chard and Sweet Potato Gratin that Deb posted, or (and this is more likely) maybe it was the two potatoes and half a swede, left over from my Root Vegetable Korma, that were burning a hole in my crisper.

Somewhat imprudently for someone with acknowledged gratin performance issues, I didn’t follow any specific recipe for this dish. Instead I glanced in a couple of my favourite go-to cookbooks for a quick refresher on technique, and jumped in head first. I was unsure whether to pre-cook the vegetables (some recipes call for it, some don’t) but decided to err on the safe side. For cheese I chose a nutty Emmental, which I thought would be a nice change from my standby cheddar.

My “throw caution to the wind” approach worked, in this case. Hitting the nail on the head in both flavour and texture, the gratin was rich and creamy but delicately flavoured. Quite the coup- especially considering that I was only holding out for something edible.

• Potato, Swede and Leek Gratin
• serves 4
• 2 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced into 1/4″ rounds
  1/2 a swede, peeled, halved and sliced into 1/4″ slices
  2 leeks, white and light green parts only, sliced into 1/4″ rounds
  2 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
  2 1/2 cups milk
  1 bay leaf
  sea salt and black pepper
  1 cup grated cheese (Emmental, Gruyère or Cheddar)
  1 Tbs. butter
  1/2 cup single cream
• 1. Preheat your oven to 175°C/350°F, and lightly butter a 8 x 10″ gratin dish.
  
  2. Combine the potatoes, swede, leeks and crushed garlic cloves in a deep frying pan that has a lid. Pour over the milk, add the bay leaf and season gently (you can always add more later).
  
  3. Simmer, partially covered, over low heat for 15 minutes- until potatoes and swede are tender to the point of a knife. Remove from heat to cool slightly, then find and discard the bay leaf and garlic cloves.
  
  4. Using a slotted spoon, remove half the mixture to the prepared gratin dish, trying to get an even mix of potatoes, swede and leeks. Cover with half of the grated cheese, then repeat with the rest of the vegetables/cheese.
  
  5. Return the remaining simmering liquid to a low heat, and add the butter and cream. Whisk until the mixture thickens, about 5 minutes. You should have about 1 1/2 cups of liquid, which will be the consistency of light cream.
  
  6. Pour the liquid over the vegetables and cheese- it should come 3/4 of the way up the dish, but not cover it completely. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until bubbly and browned on top. Serve immediately.

In my family, we don’t really do lunch on the weekends. Maybe I should rephrase that: we eat, but we don’t do large, elaborate lunches. While some families might sit down to pastas, gratins, breads and salads at midday, mine tends to favour nothing more taxing than a grilled sandwich, and more likely a mug of soup.

My mum makes wonderful soups, and always freezes and stores her creations. At any given time, there are probably two or three delicious and healthy homemade soups in my parents’ deep-freeze. When I’m home for a visit, I know that a good modest (okay, frugal) lunch is just steps and minutes away.

When he first started spending holidays with my family, it took my boyfriend some time to adjust to this habit of ours. Andrew’s not really a soup fan, preferring heartier, more filling meals in general. Slowly though, he’s come around to soup, at least as a form of midday nourishment (I have yet to convince him of its dinnertime charms).

Lately, I’ve been trying to introduce these weekend soup-eating practices to our London home, making Sunday “Soup Day”. Often it’s carrot or lentil, sometimes tomato, but yesterday, after returning from the farmers market with some new season bounty, I thought I’d try my hand at the old peasant classic: Leek and Potato.

(OT, but this is one soup I definitely wouldn’t be served at home; my mum loathes potatoes. I’ve never really understood this dislike, because potatoes are just about the most inoffensive vegetable I can think of. To each her own, though.)

My version of this soup, with smoked paprika and sour cream, has just enough kick to keep it interesting without overpowering the subtle flavour of the leeks. Served with whole wheat toast and a dollop of sour cream on top, it was good enough for Andrew to proclaim it “amazing”. Of course, this was during daylight hours; if you’re planning this for dinner, proceed with caution.

• Leek and Potato Soup
• serves 4
• 2 Tbs. butter
  1 clove garlic, minced
  3 medium leeks, chopped, white and light green parts only
  1 tsp. sea salt
  black pepper
  3 medium potatoes (or 2 very large), peeled and cut into 1″ chunks
  1/2 tsp. paprika (if you can get the smoked kind, it’s good here)
  1 litre vegetable stock
  1/2 cup sour cream
  1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper (optional)
• 1. Heat the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. When it foams, add the garlic and chopped leeks, sprinkle over the salt and grind in some fresh black pepper. Cook gently until the leeks have softened but not browned, about 4 minutes.
  
  2. Stir in the chopped potatoes and the paprika, and cook for another two minutes. Pour over the stock and simmer for 20-25 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.
  
  3. Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Using an immersion blender, purée until smooth.
  
  4. Stir in the sour cream and if using, the cayenne. Re-heat gently if necessary.

You know how, as food bloggers*, we like to convince our readers that we always eat like this? That beautiful, creative, well thought out and healthy meals grace our tables daily and effortlessly? That we never succumb to take-out pizza, boxed cake mixes or store-bought vanilla extract?

(*I’m addressing this to “food bloggers” because I’m convinced that at least 90% of food blog-readers are food-blog writers, too.)

Well, in my house at least, the above is emphatically not the case. Sure, I try to eat healthily most of the time, and the last time I used a baking mix was years ago, but come on- I’m not Super Foodie Girl, here. To prove this, I feel like it might be time to come clean about one of my favourite meals, one that is eaten all too often in my house: macaroni and cheese. 

I’ve talked about my love for mac n’ cheese before, but I don’t think I really admitted how often we eat this around here. I’d say some variation of this dish graces our table every week, either because I’ve planned it, or because we’re too tired or uninspired to think of anything else. Plus, it’s the all-time favourite meal of my three-year-old child 26-year-old boyfriend, and what Andrew wants, Andrew gets. 

Luckily, no amount of fatigue can quell my kitchen creativity, so I’m always trying out new recipes for our favourite dish. Some experiments are deemed failures (Andrew wasn’t too keen on my Mac n’ Cheese with Caramelized Onions and Sundried Tomatoes the other week) and some are pronounced winners. Truthfully, the scale tips in favour of the latter (it’s sort of hard to make mac n’ cheese bad, after all), so we now have a lengthy roster of winners to choose from. 

This version uses the mild, onion-y flavour of leeks and the tartness of sour cream to keep things interesting, along with a healthy (er, unhealthy) dose of mature cheddar and parmesan. I usually use whole wheat pasta for it, if only because the extra nutrients soothe my food-blogging guilt, slightly. 

• Macaroni and Cheese with Leeks and Sour Cream
• serves 3
• 250g pasta, any shape you like
  1 Tbs. butter
  2 leeks
  1 Tbs. flour
  1/2 cup + 1 Tbs. milk
  1/3 cup sour cream (low-fat if you must)
  1 cup grated cheddar cheese
  1/4 cup grated parmesan 
  sea salt and black pepper
• 1. Bring a large pot of water to boil, and when it does, salt it generously. Cook pasta according to packet instructions. 
  
  2. While the pasta cooks, slice the leeks (white and light green parts only) into 1cm rounds, and rinse them well. Mix together the flour with 1 Tbs. of milk in a small cup, and set aside. 
  
  3. In a medium-sized saucepan, heat the butter over medium heat. Add the sliced leeks and cook for 5-6 minutes until softened.
  
  4. Add the remaining 1/2 cup of milk and the sour cream to the pan, and stir well. The mixture will begin to curdle- DO NOT panic! Keep stirring, and it will come together. 
  
  5. Stirring all the time, pour in the milk/flour mixture and wait until the sauce thickens- about three minutes. Add the cheeses and stir until melted. Taste, season with salt and pepper and take off the heat. 
  
  6. When the pasta is ready, drain and toss with the sauce. Serve immediately. 

I hope you’ll permit me to begin this post with a bit of a rant:

How unfair is it that it’s only the beginning of August, and the days are noticeably shorter already? Obviously I realize that science (or whatever- physics?) dictates that the Summer Solstice is sometime at the end of June, and after that the days get shorter. Fine, I get it. But if I was in charge of the world (and therefore physics answered to me), I wouldn’t let the days shorten until the end of August at least. The whole thing just puts a damper on summer, doesn’t it?

I didn’t know this until this year, but the whole thing puts a bit of a damper on food blogging, too. See, food blogging requires food photography, and food photography requires natural light. Andrew and I tend to eat our evening meal quite late, especially in the summer. I can’t get hungry for dinner until 8 or even 9 o’ clock on most evenings. So far, it’s been working well: I cook, snap a few photos in the kitchen, serve dinner, bask in Andrew’s praise of my prodigious talent, etc, etc. 

The other night though, I ran into a problem with this routine. I plated up the meal and set it on the kitchen table as usual, but try as I might, I just could not get a photo that wasn’t blurry, too dark, or comprised of odd pasta-shaped shadows. I’m loathe to use a flash (horrible invention, that) so in the end I just gave up. Luckily, the dish in question makes fantastic leftovers, so I was able to photograph some the next day, no problem. But it does beg the question: what on earth am I going to do come winter? Have dinner at 3 in the afternoon?

Well I won’t worry about that now, but I will share the meal that caused the question to pop up in the first place. This dish of leeks braised in white wine, served over pasta, is one of my favourite. I love leeks, and anything that gives them a starring role, rather than the bit-part they’re too often confined to, is bound to appeal to me. Braising them in white wine until they’re sweet and tender? I’m sold. 

Adapted from a Jamie Oliver recipe, I’ve simplified this a touch, doing away with the Porcini Pangrattato (though it is delicious, if you can be bothered), and adding a bit of cream for richness. It’s fantastic made fresh and works as leftovers too; great for the obsessively photographic among us, no?

• Pasta with Leeks Braised in White Wine
• serves 3
• 250g pasta, any shape you like
  3 good-sized leeks, outer leaves discarded
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  2 Tbs. butter
  2 cloves garlic, sliced thinly
  1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves (I’ve used dried in a pinch)
  3/4 cup white wine
  1/2 cup stock or water
  1/4 cup cream 
  salt and pepper 
  grated parmesan, to serve 
• 1. Put a large pot of water on to boil. When it does, salt generously and add the pasta to cook according to package instructions. 
  
  2. Meanwhile, slice the leeks into 1cm thick slices, white and light green parts only. Put in a colander and rinse very well- leeks can hide a lot of dirt! Drain and set aside. 
  
  3. In a large heavy-bottomed pan with a lid, heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat. When the butter foams, add the garlic and thyme and cook for one minute. Add the chopped leeks and stir until everything is coated well. 
  
  4. Pour the white wine and stock over the leeks and cover. Turn the heat down to low and allow to cook for 25-30 minutes, until the leeks are quite tender. You can stir occasionally and may have to add some extra stock or water to keep the dish from drying out- you want it thick and saucy, but not soupy. 
  
  5. When the leeks are tender, remove from the heat and stir in the cream. Salt and pepper to taste. You can serve this as a sauce over the pasta, or add the pasta to the pan and mix everything together- both are delicious. Serve with parmesan grated on top.