How to Eat

by Nigella Lawson

  Then, when the beet greens are all but ready, sprinkle with salt and throw in the noodles, adding more soy sauce as needed. Stir around in the pan until the buff-colored noodles take on a deep, bronzy pink. Remove to a large plate and cover with the parsley.

  Serves 1.

  The following two recipes are both for beets, but because they’re for the beets you’ve got left from the recipe above, I make no apology for the purplish onslaught. I had never eaten beets raw until I came across Stephanie Alexander’s recipe in her Cook’s Companion for grated beets with lemon juice and chopped herbs, arranged around a central dollop of yogurt. I cannot tell you what a revelation it is. Something spooky can happen to beets when they’re cooked (and I don’t mean because of the vinegar that is often added): it’s as if the sweetness has a slightly putrid edge. Raw, the sugariness has a spiky sharpness about it that stops it from cloying, even in large quantities.

  SHREDDED BEET SALAD WITH YOGURT

  I have adapted the recipe a bit and also substituted fat-free yogurt. And as it’s what I make to go with roast poussin when a friend comes for a low-key, low-fat supper, I give quantities for two naturally big eaters.

  Peel the beets wearing rubber gloves if you don’t want to come over all Lady Macbeth later. Try changing the herbs, too. With chopped dill and dry-toasted mustard seeds, the salad’s magnificent with salmon, for example.

  good handful coriander

  good handful mint

  2 large or 4 small beets, about 1½ pounds, peeled and cut in small chunks

  juice of 1 lemon

  2/3 cup fat-free yogurt

  Put the coriander and mint leaves in the processor, chop, and remove. Using the grating disc, grate the beets by pushing them through the feed tube until you have a wonderful pile of dark crimson shreds. Toss these in a bowl with the herbs and lemon juice and then arrange them in a ring around the edge of a plate. Fill the hole in the center with the yogurt.

  Serves 2 with leftovers.

  BEET SOUP

  It seems odd not to be convinced about beets but to be passionate about this because, in a way, this thick, velvety soup is the sweet, smooth essence of beet. It’s difficult to say how many it will feed, as I make a big quantity and just keep a pitcher of it in the fridge for a few days.

  2 large or 4 small beets, about 1½ pounds

  1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

  1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

  buttermilk or yogurt (optional)

  Put the beets in a large pot, cover with cold water, bring to boil, and boil for 2 hours or until tender. Maybe 1¼ hours if they’re small. Beets take much longer to cook than anyone ever tells you (rather like chickpeas).

  Remove the cooked beets (retaining the cooking liquid) with a slotted spoon and gingerly pull off their skins before putting in a processor or blender together with the mustard and balsamic vinegar. Purée, adding the cooking liquid till the texture is as you like it. Keep some of the cooking liquid, as well, as the soup will thicken as it sits in the fridge and you will need to thin it out later. But if you want just to freeze individual portions, you can add water as necessary when you reheat. This soup is wonderful with a slash of buttermilk or yogurt added as you eat it.

  RESTRAINED MUSHROOM RISOTTO

  A low-fat risotto might sound suspect, but this one works because of its intense, mushroomy depth of flavor. This is the sort of thing I’d make when I have a girlfriend over to dinner, cooking it while we’re talking. I have specified garlic-infused oil and porcini stock made from cubes (see pages 457 and 459) just because this makes it easier for a scrabbled-together after-work supper; you can, however, use chicken, veal, or vegetable stock, as you wish. Boost whatever stock you use with dried porcini and their soaking liquid, as directed.

  1/3 ounce dried porcini

  1 teaspoon butter

  2 teaspoons garlic-infused oil

  1 small onion, minced

  8 ounces mixed cultivated and wild mushrooms, chopped or sliced, as size and shape recommend

  2/3 cup arborio rice

  ¼ white wine or vermouth

  1¼ cups stock made from porcini stock cubes, or chicken, veal, or vegetable stock, heated

  2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan

  3 tablespoons chopped parsley

  Soak the porcini in warm water to cover until soft, about 20 minutes; drain and chop them. Reserve the mushrooms and their soaking liquid.

  In a small frying pan or medium saucepan, heat the butter and oil. Sauté the onion gently until soft but not brown. Add the mixed mushrooms and cook for a few minutes. Stir in the rice and cook for 2 minutes. Pour in the wine and let it bubble away until it’s absorbed. Combine the reserved porcini and its liquid with the stock and add a ladleful of the mixture to the rice. Cook, stirring, until the stock has been absorbed. Carry on adding ladlefuls and then stirring over a low to medium heat until all the stock has been absorbed and the rice is creamy and just cooked, tender but still firm to the bite. In other words, until it tastes like risotto, which should take 18–20 minutes. Stir in the Parmesan and parsley.

  Serves 2.

  LINGUINE WITH CRAB

  This is one of the few non-Asian low-fat recipes that you could cook for a dinner party, although I always find pasta panic-inducing in large quantities. Crabmeat is so intensely flavored that fat is not required to add depth. The recipe might seem to be masquerading as an Italian dish, but that is not the intention; really the flavors are borrowed from Thai and Korean crab cakes, but they make a wonderful, resonant pasta sauce.

  1 garlic clove, minced

  ½ fresh red chili pepper, sliced finely, with seeds

  3–4 tablespoons chopped coriander,

  to taste

  grated zest of 1 lime, plus a squirt of the juice

  2–3 scallions (white and green parts), sliced finely

  2 teaspoons olive oil

  ½ cup white wine

  salt

  6 ounces linguine

  4 ounces lump crabmeat

  2–3 tablespoons chopped parsley

  Put water on for the pasta. When it’s almost boiling, start on the sauce. Sweat the garlic, chili, half the coriander, half the lime zest, and the scallions in olive oil until softened.

  Add the white wine and simmer for 5–10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it reduces and thickens to an almost sludgy texture.

  The pasta water should be boiling now, so add salt, put in the linguine, and cook according to package directions. Just before the pasta needs draining, stir the crabmeat with the remaining coriander and lime zest into the white wine mixture. Add the squirt of lime juice. Just before draining the pasta, lower a measuring cup into it and fill it up with the pasta cooking water. When the pasta’s drained, add it to the sauce or, if you prefer, put it into a warmed bowl and stir the sauce into it. Add some drops of cooking water if the sauce needs help to coat the strands of pasta. Bear in mind, though, that this strong-tasting sauce is meant to cover elegantly and sparsely; in this sense only, perhaps, it is an Italian sauce. Sprinkle with the parsley and eat quickly; the thinner the pasta, the faster it clumps as it waits.

  Serves 2.

  SALAD DRESSINGS

  * * *

  It’s one of the fallacies of trying to lose weight that the easiest thing to eat is a salad. There is no such thing as a decent low-fat salad dressing. I have tried everything. So I have come up with dressings that don’t exactly duplicate vinaigrette but will coat leaves without making you wince.

  MISO-MUSTARD DRESSING

  ½ teaspoon miso

  ½ teaspoon grainy mustard

  ¼ teaspoon strong, clear honey

  juice of ½ orange

  Mix everything together well and dress the salad. What else is there to say, except that you could add a splash of buttermilk as well.

  DIJON MUSTARD DRESSING

  Having said that low-fat dressing mustn’t ape proper dressing, I can see that this one does. But somehow it pulls it off.
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  ½ teaspoon Dijon mustard

  ½ teaspoon balsamic vinegar

  juice of ½ orange

  drops of soy sauce, to taste

  Put the mustard in a bowl and slowly stir in the vinegar and orange juice. Taste and add soy as wanted.

  THICK MISO DRESSING FOR BEANS

  The dressings above are runny and good for the robuster leaf salads—radicchio, frisée, or something with bite. This, though, is rich and thick and wonderful stirred into warm or cold beans.

  1 heaping tablespoon miso

  1 scant teaspoon balsamic vinegar or rice vinegar

  drop or two sesame oil

  In a little bowl, stir together the miso, balsamic or rice vinegar, and a tiny drop or two of sesame oil, and mix to the consistency of a thick dressing by adding a couple of tablespoons of water.

  ROAST GARLIC AND LEMON DRESSING

  This dressing takes rather longer to make, but you are not required to exert yourself while the garlic’s in the oven, so it’s still not the biggest deal.

  1 head garlic

  1 teaspoon vermouth

  juice of ½ lemon, plus more, if needed

  Preheat the oven to 400°F.

  Lop the top off the garlic, just so you see the cloves in cross section. Cut out a square of foil big enough to wrap the garlic in. Place the garlic in the center of the foil and bring up the sides, so that when you add the vermouth it doesn’t all dribble out. When the vermouth’s in, close the parcel by twisting the edges of the foil together and bake for 45 minutes–1 hour. Remove, let cool a bit, then squeeze the garlic into a bowl. Add the lemon juice slowly to the roast garlic purée, stirring as you do. If the dressing is as sharp as you want it to be before it’s as runny (though this is meant to be a thick dressing) as you want it to be, beat in a little water. Otherwise, add more juice.

  THE STATUTORY COOK-AND-FREEZE-AHEAD SECTION

  * * *

  Freezing some low-fat food will get you in the right frame of mind while setting the stage with the necessary props.

  VEGETABLE CURRY IN VEGETABLE SAUCE

  This is a recipe from Sue Kreitzman’s Low-fat Vegetarian Cookbook, which is so utterly virtuous that I regard it as eating that doesn’t count. I don’t cook it for other people; it’s what I keep for myself to balance out a week of intense going out or overeating at home. This amount makes about enough for 6 huge portions, which I freeze individually and thaw when required. Yes, it can go soggy and fuzzy around the edges, but I don’t mind.

  If I am being very severe, I eat this with just a raita made with fat-free yogurt, minced scallions, grated fresh ginger, and chopped mint and coriander. If following a middling path, I add some plain steamed couscous. If I feel I have nothing for which to atone, I buy hot, soft nan bread from my local Indian takeout to mop up the aromatic juices and eat nothing else that night, bar some fruit. This recipe is, I admit, time-consuming and labor-intensive, but is the low-fat culinary equivalent of a key text. You should tackle it when you’re all fired up to start. Put aside one Sunday evening and don’t think of doing anything else at the same time. It’s a worthwhile investment.

  2 large onions, each cut into 8 pieces

  2 garlic cloves, crushed

  1 tablespoon each ground cumin, ground coriander, and paprika

  ½ teaspoon each ground allspice, ground cardamom, and ground ginger

  1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

  2½ cups vegetable stock, plus more, if needed

  3 red or yellow bell peppers, peeled, deseeded, and chopped coarsely

  3 large carrots, chopped coarsely

  ¾ pound button mushrooms, halved or quartered

  2 medium turnips, cut into ½-inch pieces

  1 large cauliflower, separated into florets

  1 small parsnip, cut into ½-inch pieces

  1 fennel bulb, quartered and cut into ½-inch pieces

  3 celery stalks, cut into ½-inch pieces

  salt

  juice of ½ large lemon

  3 medium zucchini, cut into ½-inch pieces

  8 ounces green beans, cut into ½-inch pieces

  Put the onion, garlic, spices, and half the stock in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Cover, bring to the boil, and boil for 5–7 minutes. Uncover and stir in the peppers, carrots, and mushrooms. Reduce the heat slightly and simmer, stirring frequently, until the vegetables and spices are “frying” in their own juices and the vegetables are tender. Allow to cool slightly.

  Remove and purée half the mixture in a blender or food processor, then return the purée to the pan.

  Add the turnips, cauliflower, parsnip, fennel, and celery. Stir together very well. Add the remaining stock or enough to almost to cover the contents of the pot, season with salt, and bring to the boil.

  Reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes. Uncover, squeeze in the lemon juice, and add the zucchini and beans. Simmer uncovered for 10 minutes more, or until all the vegetables are tender.

  Portion this to suit your appetite.

  BEEF BRAISED IN BEER

  This is pretty much the English version of carbonnade, the Belgian dish of beef stewed with beer. The beer used should be stout, and I use Sam Smith’s Imperial Stout, which is available in America. The prunes—which are authentic, in the sense here of traditional—give a richness and depth, and so very little fat is needed or ends up in any one of its six portions. (Incidentally, prunes, puréed, can be used to replace their weight of butter in baking.) Like all stews, this is best cooked in advance and then reheated. And because the beef is cooked slowly, you can use very lean stewing beef and it will still be velvety and tender.

  Accompany this with mounds of green vegetables. And you could also make a version of the horseradish-chive sauce on page 265 using fat-free yogurt.

  1¼ cups stout

  8 ounces pitted prunes

  1 teaspoon English mustard powder

  ¼ cup all-purpose flour

  2½ pounds stewing beef, cut into thick strips

  2 tablespoons vegetable oil, or butter and the merest drop oil

  2 medium onions, sliced finely

  10 ounces medium carrots, peeled and cut into thickish sticks

  salt

  Preheat the oven to 300°F.

  Pour 2⁄3 cup water and the stout into a bowl, add the prunes, and soak until soft, about 2 hours.

  Mix the mustard powder into the flour and coat the beef with it. In a frying pan, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil and cook the onions in it for about 5 minutes; stir in the carrots and cook for 5 minutes more. Place the vegetables in a casserole and stir the prunes in with their liquid, with a pinch or two of salt to taste. Add the remaining tablespoon oil to the frying pan and brown the meat, then add meat to the casserole. Cover and cook in the oven for 2½–3 hours.

  When it’s cool, bag up into 6 equal portions and freeze. To do this, either thaw and reheat gently in a saucepan, or microwave the still-frozen stew.

  HALF-COQ AU VIN

  I don’t pretend this is the real thing, in the sense of the Elizabeth David adumbrated original. But it is a good chicken stew, cooked in wine, which borrows from the cuisine bourgeoise classic without running too severely into debt. Again, this is something I like to make for myself to reheat and eat alone for dinner when I want something proper and comforting and old-fashioned.

  2½ cups red wine

  1 celery stalk

  1 medium carrot, peeled and quartered

  2 garlic cloves, peeled

  1 sprig thyme

  few sprigs parsley

  3 peppercorns

  3 bay leaves

  1 tablespoon olive oil

  6 skinned chicken thighs

  salt and freshly milled black pepper

  1 medium onion, minced

  2 ounces Canadian or Irish bacon, in one piece if possible (otherwise 3 slices), diced

  6 ounces baby button mushrooms

  6 ounces pearl onions, peeled

  heaping tablespoon all-purpose flour


  1¼ cups chicken stock

  3 tablespoons brandy

  2–3 tablespoons chopped parsley

  Put the wine, celery, carrot, garlic, thyme, parsley, peppercorns, and the bay leaves in a saucepan on the heat. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat slightly, and let bubble away until reduced by half. Strain and reserve.

  Then, in a casserole that will take everything later, heat the oil, add the chicken, and brown a little; you will have to turn often to prevent the chicken from sticking, but persevere—the chicken will color. Season with the salt and pepper, turn in the pan, season again, and remove for a while.

  The chicken, although it’s lean, should have left a few oily juices in the casserole. Add to these the onion and bacon and cook, over medium to medium-low heat, stirring regularly, for about 5 minutes or until soft. Add the mushrooms and pearl onions and cook, pushing and prodding, for a further 3 or so minutes. Sprinkle over the flour, stir well to coat and cook out the flouriness, and cook over low heat for another 3 or so minutes. Gradually stir in the stock and the reserved wine. Replace the chicken thighs. Cover and cook very gently for 45 minutes to an hour or until the chicken has just begun to loosen on the bones.

  When the chicken is cooked, heat the brandy in a ladle over a low flame and tilt the ladle until the brandy ignites. Pour this into the casserole and stir well. The sauce-gravy should be just about right now—neither floury nor watery—but should you find it too runny, remove the chicken, raise the heat, and reduce to thicken a little more. Return the chicken to the pan, baste with the sauce, and sprinkle over the parsley. You will need, or might want, to add freshly chopped parsley if and when you freeze, defrost, and eat each individual portion.

  CHAR SIU

  This, to borrow from Dr. Jonathan Miller, is not quite char siu, it’s just char siu-ish.

  I’ve given a couple of different marinades for this basically Chinese-influenced barbecued pork; choose whichever you prefer, taking into account what is most convenient for you to produce. The first is adapted from Tiger Lily: Flavours of the Orient by Rani King and Chandra Khan; the second is just something I did with the ingredients I had lying about in the fridge.